Standard communications procedures had messages for deployed submarines — attack boats on ASW duty in particular — stored for burst transmissions from orbiting communications satellites at specified times of the day. The sub skipper needed only to bring his boat to receiving depth and trail the antenna at a specified time to pick up his mail. Garrett looked at his watch. Seawolf's next scheduled CVLF receiving time was set for 1720, another three hours. Having the Titan Spear message transmitted by satellite rather than waiting for the VLF window seemed a hit-or-miss way of doing things. Either the message was of very low priority or someone back in the World didn't know what the hell they were doing.
And that hardly bode well for the cruise.
However, until the skipper decided to share the contents of the message with the other officers of the boat, it wasn't his worry. Garrett continued listening to the snorkeling noises of the Kilo, pulling them from the heavier pounding of the surface traffic, burning them into his brain until he was sure he could recognize their distinctive feel at another time.
"Mr. Simms, Mr. Garrett. This is the captain. Report to my office, on the double."
Toynbee looked at Garrett, then rolled his eyes. "No rest for the wicked, sir?"
"True enough, Chief."
"Now what did he do?" Grossman asked just before Garrett was out of earshot.
Garrett couldn't help a lightly malicious chuckle at that. Apparently the crew had noticed how hard Lawless was riding him. It suggested that they both liked and respected him, which was important. A boat's XO needed a close rapport with the crew.
The fact that the captain had called for both him and Seawolf's Nav officer suggested that they were about to learn the contents of that UHF message. Garrett had expected Lawless to sit on it for as long as he could, if only to show that he had the power to do so. Much of Lawless's behavior, Garrett thought, seemed centered on his need to prove to all concerned that he was in command.
Then another thought occurred to him: What if that UHF message had been transmitted as it had just in case Seawolf was on or near the surface? That might mean considerable urgency in the matter.
And the only thing Garrett could think of that might be that urgent was the possibility that the United States was now at war with the People's Republic of China. Washington would want to warn its most valuable submarine asset in this part of the world as soon as possible, without waiting for the 1720 VLF transmission window.
A war with China… and the Seawolf was already in the middle of it.
Captain George Lawless looked again at the printout flimsy in his hands, fresh from the radio shack and decoding. "I still don't know what to make of this, COB," he said.
Master Chief Dougherty had been in the control room when Lawless had emerged from the radio shack, and he was summoned to the office with a curt wave of the hand. They were just waiting for—
Three sharp raps on the door announced their arrival. "Enter."
Garrett and Simms came in. "You wanted to see us, Skipper?" Simms said.
"Sit," Lawless said, nodding at a pair of empty chairs squeezed into the claustrophobic space. "Read."
He handed Garrett the message flimsy and watched with mild amusement the play of emotions over the man's face: worry… puzzlement… surprise… consternation…
Garrett handed the message to Simms and said, "I don't understand this, Captain. It's insane!"
"Neither the hell do I," Lawless replied. "Neither the hell do I!"
"It doesn't strike me as an especially sound decision tactically," Simms said.
"I was expecting a message to the effect that we were at war," Garrett added. He almost sounded disappointed. "What does it mean?"
"Damfino," Lawless replied, taking the flimsy back from Simms. "But we will follow orders. By the book, gentlemen, by the book!"
He looked at the flimsy again, reading the decoded message.
CLASSIFIED: TOP SECRET
FROM: OFFICE OF MILITARY AFFAIRS LIAISON, STATE DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, D.C.
TO: NAVY DEPARTMENT, PENTAGON, ARLINGTON, VA
CC: COMSUBPAC, COMFLEACTWESTPAC, COCBG 24, COSSN-21
DATE: 17 MAY 2003
TIME: 1210 HRS, LOCAL
OPENING OF NEW NEGOTIATIONS WITH BEIJING AIMED AT DEFUSING CURRENT CRISES OVER TAIWAN MAKES IT NECESSARY TO ASSUME OPEN, PEACEFUL POSTURE IN EAST CHINA SEA/SOUTH CHINA SEA AO. PURSUANT TO PRESIDENTIAL DIRECTIVE THIS DATE, SUBMARINE SEAWOLF, SSN-21, IS HEREBY DIRECTED TO PUT IN TO PORT AT HONG KONG AT EARLIEST OPPORTUNITY BOTH TO SHOW AMERICAN PRESENCE IN AO AND TO ASSURE PRC OF AMERICAN FRIENDLY INTENTIONS.
FOR DURATION OF VISIT, OFFICERS AND CREW OF U.S. VESSELS MAY GO ASHORE AS PER SOP. HOWEVER, ALL PERSONNEL MUST BE ENJOINED TO OBSERVE PROPER PROTOCOL AND THE MAINTENANCE OF FRIENDLY RELATIONS WITH THE HOST NATION…
There was more, a lot more, but most of it was little more than bureaucratic garble about the need to impress China with America's essentially peaceful posture in the West Pacific. It was signed by none less than Paul Duggin, Undersecretary of State.
But Garrett was right. The whole thing was categorically insane.
But the USS Seawolf was going to follow orders.
By the book.
10
The locals called it Kinmen. The island had another name, however… and westerners who knew something of China's bloody recent history knew the place by that name: Quemoy.
Jack Morton stood on the outside parapet of a concrete tower, binoculars in his hands, staring north toward the lush, green folds of the foothills of the Shiniu Shan Mountains. That was Mainland China over there, fading into the evening mist across a scant three miles of open water. He raised the binoculars to his eyes and studied the far shore. He could see the beach, the play of low surf on rock. A water buffalo chewed endlessly on whatever it was that buffalo chewed. Tangles of barbed wire lined the beach above the high-tide line.
Westward, to the left, a military base or fortification of some sort sprouted in ungainly, weedlike fashion from sand and tropical greenery. The flag flying over the walls was the bloodred banner of the People's Republic. Morton could see a sentry on a parapet behind the gray wall, staring south across the water toward Kinmen. He couldn't make out the soldier's expression but had to assume it was a bored one. The silence was heightened by the gentle hiss and splash of the surf. The place seemed unnaturally peaceful.
"That, my friend, is our objective," Commander Tse told him. "Do not let the fortifications daunt you. We infiltrate people through that beach all the time."