“And what about land-based radar?” Walker inquired pointedly.
Amanda shrugged. “Fixed systems are easier to avoid than mobile ones. And there’s always the hope they’ll mistake you for a fishing boat.”
Admiral Tallman frowned and gave a brief acknowledging grunt. “About how many more times do you think you’ll need to go into Chinese territorial waters?”
So that was the bite. Amanda shifted slightly in the chair.
“That’s hard to say, sir. As of yesterday, the net’s fully deployed. We shouldn’t have to do any more work along that line except to replace a malfunctioning or a compromised unit. On the other hand, to react to a possible collection opportunity … We’ll just have to see how the situation develops.”
“We’ve received the post-action report on this last sensor insertion of yours, Captain,” Commander Walker interjected. “Frankly, there are certain aspects of it that concern the hell out of us. You damn near got your ship trapped in the middle of a major firefight out there.”
“I agree it was tight, but we were able to successfully disengage. That’s been the only really close call we’ve had so far on this deployment.”
“‘So far’ is the operative phrase here Captain. What happens next time?”
“They haven’t caught me yet. Commander.”
“It is a point of concern, though, Captain,” Admiral Tallman said. “We’re operating right on the edge of a major shooting war out here. It wouldn’t take a whole lot to tip us over that edge.”
“I am cognizant of that point, sir,” Amanda replied. Like the boss mare of a band of mustangs, she was beginning to scent a trap. Best to bring up a few heavy guns of her own. “And I’m sure my superior officer, Admiral Macintyre, is aware of it as well.”
She saw Tallman’s eyes momentarily flick over to his chief of staff. Ah, they were running a ‘good cop-bad cop’ on her. The loop would be coming soon, she’d better be ready to duck out from under it.
“The problem is that the Cunningham isn’t the only American naval vessel out here,” Walker said, pushing the point, “and the Red Chinese aren’t going to worry too much about American chains of command. If you hit the trip wire out there, it could be one of our ships that gets targeted for retaliation.”
“That is a valid point, Commander,” Amanda replied cautiously. “Do you have any suggestions about how we should address it?”
The “good cop” took over. “We think we do, Captain,” Admiral Tallman said, smoothly picking up the line of the conversation. “Now, Operation Uriah is strictly NAVSPECFORCE’s baby, but since we’re both sharing the same MODLOC out here, I’d like to establish a set of liaison protocols. Our intel people are already working together routinely and doing a good job of it. We ought to be doing the same thing operationally. It just makes good sense for the right hand to know what the left is doing.”
There it was. It was very subtly and politely worded, but the literal translation was still “Hey, lady, this is my sandbox and you, by God, better start playing by my rules.” Amanda smiled.
“That does seem reasonable, sir. However, I don’t think that I have the authority to amend my mission parameters to that extent. I think that the best call would be for you to contact NAVSPECFORCE directly and work up a set of protocols through them.”
Literal translation “Fuck off You’re not my boss and we both know it.”
Amanda awaited the followup. Walker straightened angrily at the desk, but before he could speak, Tallman caught him with a slight shake of his head. “You’re right, Captain Garrett,” he replied quietly. “That would be the proper way to handle this We’ll look into it.”
He rose to his feet and extended his hand “I expect you’ll be wanting to get back to your ship here presently. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Amanda stood up as well and accepted the handshake “It’s the same for me, sir. I appreciate the opportunity to meet the people I’m working with face-to-face.”
“It does promote understanding. Captain.”
After Amanda Garrett had departed, Admiral Tallman and his chief of staff worked through a well established ritual. Commander Walker drew two mugs of heavy-caliber Navy coffee setting them on Tallman’s desk, while the Admiral unlocked the bottom drawer and removed a contraband bottle. Opening the fifth of bonded Kentucky bourbon, the senior officer poured a carefully metered ounce into each cup.
Recorking the bottle, Tallman restored it to its hiding place and returned his attention to Walker.
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think she’s a rogue and a glory hound, and I think she’s going to be a lot of trouble.”
Tallman laughed briefly “Now, don’t hold back on me, Nolan. What’s your real opinion?”
“I’m serious, sir. Garrett is a loose cannon, and a loose cannon with an attitude. We do not need that out here just now.”
“Yeah, I might buy in on the attitude. But then, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” The Admiral took his first experimental sip of his laced coffee. “She’s a destroyer driver, and destroyer drivers are like fighter pilots. They’re no damn good unless they’re just a little bit cocky.”
“She’s also a risk taker.”
“That’s also part of the job. Just as long as they’re calculated. Let’s face it. Maybe she is nosing into our territory, but she’s also coming across with some of the best tactical intelligence we’re getting off the Chinese coast.”
Tallman tilted his chair back. “Eddie Macintyre seems to think that she’s the greatest thing since the invention of the screw propeller, and he does not impress easily. Maybe we should just let it ride.”
“Sir, we don’t have a handle on this woman!”
“That may not necessarily be such a bad thing, either if something blows because of her, well, she’s NAVSPEC FORCE’s baby. If we don’t have any operational linkage, we can just slough it off on them If she keeps doing things right, hell, it’s going to be happening in our bailiwick, and we’ll catch the glow off of it.”
Walker frowned and reached for his coffee mug “I still don’t like it, sir.”
“Maintain the even strain, son. We’ll just give this lady all the rope she wants. She’ll either hang herself with it, or she’ll bring it back wrapped around something real pretty.”
16
Rizal Park was the place to be on a warm summer evening in Manila. Young people and families enjoyed the abating of the day’s heat, their laughter and the mixed musics of a myriad of radios and disc players drowning out the sounds of the traffic-crowded streets. In much the same manner, the park’s gardens and the freshening sea breeze held at bay the ranker aromas of a city in the tropics.
With his tie tugged down a couple of comfortable inches and his suit coat slung over his shoulder, Hamson Van Lynden paced slowly along one of the paved footpaths. Since the beginning of the crisis talks, he had taken advantage of the great park adjacent to the Hotel Manila, this postdinner walk becoming something of a ritual for the secretary of state. Not only did it work out accumulated tension, but it also gave him the opportunity to mull over the events of the day’s session and to plan his next day’s strategies.
Absorbed in thought, he didn’t notice the figure cutting across the lawn to intercept him.