Takishi’s dual purposes came to fruition as Kinoga’s modified vessel sat silent in the wind-whipped sea. They rocked aimlessly in the churning water. His anxiety mounted as Kinoga ordered the helmsman to turn the bow to the east.
“What makes you think we can get this close, Admiral?” Takishi asked. It sounded like an accu-sation.
“Mind your own business, politician,” Kinoga spit. “They think we’re fishing.”
“Fishing? I see,” Takishi said. His deal with China had increased their fishing rights along the twelve-mile border. The fishing vessels had made the People’s Liberation Navy defenses less sensitive to boundary incursions.
“Are you worried about your Chinese friends?”
“Do not accuse me of conflicting loyalties,” Taki-shi countered, perhaps the first inkling of his getting his sea legs.
Takishi examined Kinoga, a very different man from himself. Kinoga was a career seaman, waiting for the day his country could erase past embarrassments. Takishi was a stockbroker turned politician, hoping to rule Japan sometime in the not-too-distant future. They were two men with different aspirations which led to the same end state that night.
“Initiate jamming,” Kinoga said harshly into a gray microphone, his voice transmitting to his reliable crew of six. Takishi stepped back as the jammers commenced the attack by deliberately sending bursts of radiation to momentarily short-circuit the Chinese radar and interrupt commu-nications systems. It was a silent attack, and he wondered if anything had worked.
“Fire the pods,” Kinoga said. Takishi held firmly to the dashboard of the attack ship as fire bellowed from the foredeck of the ship. The rockets burst away, burning brightly, momentarily silhouetting the ship against a bright fireball, then dove quickly into the water five hundred meters off stern. Nine others followed.
Ling, who had his feet up on the metal table beneath the radar monitor, slammed his chair into the floor and stood, staring at the sudden appearance of ten flashing radar indicators. Taiwan, hell, he thought. Ling had a horrible image of American nuclear submarines poised off the coast, ready to launch their weapons. It would be his fault. Speechless, he grabbed his section chief and pointed at the screen.
“Where did they come from?” the chief shouted.
“They just appeared out of nowhere, sir,” Ling stammered, knowing his response sounded lame.
“You moron, radio the strip alert. Now!”
“Admiral, they have launched two bombers and a reconnaissance plane with the rest of the squadron to follow,” Kinoga’s Chinese linguist remarked, lifting one earphone away from his head.
Takishi snapped his head toward the admiral.
Kinoga had only two 20mm guns and four useless ship-to-ship missiles to protect his vessel. Even though the guns could fire three hundred rounds a minute, they would be ineffective against the high-tech Chinese aircraft.
“Full ahead,” Kinoga said. Takishi felt the boat move slowly almost immediately after the admiral’s order.
Takishi saw Kinoga watching the radar. The Chinese aircraft pursued his vessel as it strained for the safety of international waters and ultimately, the southwestern shores of Japan. Takishi knew that success depended entirely upon the avoidance of conflict or capture in Chinese seas.
Takishi settled into a calming routine, part of his jujitsu training. He watched Kinoga and his crew. In his dark blue utility uniform, Kinoga looked like any other sailor. His eyes seemed closed as he watched the radar screen. He periodically looked over the bridge of the vessel and into the black night.
“Scared, Takishi?” Kinoga prodded.
“The only thing that scares me, Admiral, is taking unnecessary risks. What happens if they capture our ship?” Takishi muttered.
“Then we die. Remember, or did the prime minister forget to tell you, that we are rigged with explosives.” Kinoga grinned.
Takishi looked away, shaking his head. He began to wonder if he was in too deep, but he had made commitments to his prime minister and to others. He had no option but to continue, and there were more dangerous tasks ahead. The prime minister had guaranteed him that the emperor would crown him upon successful accomplishment of the entire plan. Thinking of this seemed to motivate him.
There were no beacons or lighthouses to guide their retreat through the dangerous seas. Black water crashed against the angled hull, spraying a thick, salty mist high into the air that opaqued the cabin glass. Takishi thought that it was like trying to look through a thin veil of milk. The ship accelerated, riding the swell, then slowed, boring through the mass of water at the bottom of the pitch, only to repeat the process.
He pushed it too far.
Kinoga smiled at Takishi.
Takishi smiled back, denying the admiral satisfaction. Yes, indeed, he would be getting satis-faction soon.
But right then he was infinitely more concerned with Kinoga’s ability to outrace the rapidly ap-proaching aircraft.
Two Chinese Shenyang J8D fighter/interceptor aircraft cut through the night sky. Last year, a J8D fighter had bumped an intruding American P3 reconnaissance aircraft, setting off a firestorm of geopolitical machinations. The MiG-21 knockoffs sucked the cloudy night through their turbines and spit it out the backside in a twirling vapor. The pilots carved through the thunderheads, feeling their way in the night as they searched for that magical bit of airspace where they could range the enemy ships with their weapons, while remaining out of harm’s way from any retaliatory means the ships might possess.
Their instructions were to prevent the seaborne intruders from escaping.
They were beginning to circle the ships to the east into what was international airspace, the ungoverned common area where contests could take place fairly; much like a dueling field. And so, after repeated warnings via their communications systems, the two fighters separated to begin the destruction of the invading fleet.
Each pilot acquired radar lock on a ship and fired a missile.
By Takishi’s calculations, they had to be close to international waters and their relative safe harbor from Chinese attack. The plan was for them to turn southeast and aim toward the island of Yonaguni, whose port would indeed provide shelter and whose proximity to Taiwan would offer the intended ruse.
Then it happened. Takishi heard the steady, high-pitched sound of radar lock screeching through a speaker in the cockpit.
“What’s that?” Takishi asked nervously.
Ignoring Takishi, Kinoga studied the night sky, watching the two bright flashes punch through the cloud cover and streak through the blackness, searching for an illusory target — his ship. He reached down and pressed a gray button, employing additional countermeasures. He released three SIREN electronic chafflike rockets, hoping to confuse the missiles by sending a strong electronic signal from a battery-powered amplifier floating beneath a parachute. The SIREN rockets screamed into the air, quickly deploying their parachutes and high-technology merchandise below.
“What the hell is going on, Kinoga? You went too far! Now we are in combat!” Takishi screamed.
Kinoga lurched at Takishi and grabbed the lapels of his heavy jacket. He moved his face within centimeters of Takishi’s, who could smell the captain’s stale breath.
“Don’t question my authority on my ship!” Kinoga hissed. “I am the captain. I am in charge. Now shut up before I throw you overboard and grieve your accidental loss before the prime minister!”
Takishi’s body was limp in Kinoga’s powerful grasp. His back against the wall, Takishi ran one hand lightly over the pistol inside its holster beneath his jacket.