Nathan nodded. “Department of Defense don’t know about our Ops. It’s strictly Joint Chiefs, Sooty and us. They just picked a bad time to do one of their Freedom Of Navigation Operations.”
“Yeah,” said Larry, “it’s just a pissing contest.”
“How close to the Islands will they get?” asked Kaminski.
“Depends on what’s going on topside. A few miles, a few hundred yards,” said Larry.
“Joe Chinaman might bring some air down from the mainland.”
“He might have it here,” said Nikki, “he has two kilometre plus airfields on those reefs. He’ll have boats down here too.”
Nathan leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “I’ll bet some Goddamn REMF in the Pentagon thought this one up.”
Nikki frowned. “REMF?”
“Yeah,” Nathan grinned, “Rear Echelon Mother Fucker. A desk driver.”
Kaminski sipped her coffee, then stood and started to pace the room.
“I hate it when she does that,” said Larry, watching her. “You just know the shit’s about to hit the fan.”
“What do we do?” she asked.
“Lie low till she’s gone by,” said Larry. “Go on Princess Leia, what would you do?”
“We take advantage of the confusion and chaos the Destroyer’s presence will cause, to climb up their ass.”
“I like it Nikki,” smiled Nathan, “bring up the Johnson’s Reef South info on the tablet. Let’s take a look at our options.”
CAPTAIN JANE BROCKMAN took a last look at the azure sea, and the wind ruffled her red brown hair. She put her peaked cap on and opened the hatch, stepped inside, and headed for the control room amidships.
It would be a grand tour; Mischief, Johnson’s Reef South and Fiery Cross Reef, then up to the Paracels and Woody Island. Get ‘em stirred up, and give ‘em the finger.
The control room was gloomy; men and women stared into monitors and spoke into the headsets they all wore.
Brockman listened in to the Principal Warfare Officer ASW.
“PWASW from blue dog one, blue dog one, we are at datum two, pass one. The MAD is streaming, no contact. Radial search on you over.”
“Copy blue dog one. Good hunting.”
He was speaking to the Airborne Tactical Officer. Blue dog one would be a Sikorsky SH-60 Seahawk helicopter, capable of dropping sonobuoys and towing a MAD — a magnetic anomaly detector. If a submarine contact was made, then Mk 46 torpedoes would be dropped.
Hours later, the USS Kimberley Peer sailed two miles off the south coast of Mischief Reef, to a diatribe of threats and accusations of violating Chinese waters. Patrol boats flying the red flag sailed between them and the island a couple of hundred yards away.
She picked up the microphone and broadcast to the Chinese.
“We are the United States Navy ship USS Kimberley Peer exercising our right to sail through international waters.” She replaced the handset. That was enough for now. “Discharge the ship’s waste.” Sewerage, dirty oil and waste food were pumped out, in view of the watching Chinese patrol boats. “Have some of that.” She smiled. “Navigator, course to Johnson’s Reef South?”
“Two six three sir.”
“Helm, make that your course, fifteen knots.”
The Destroyer sailed off and left Mischief Reef behind.
“Sir PWOA, we have two contacts heading our way. AN/SPY 1D radar reports two bogies, speed 480 knots, altitude 500 feet and dropping. Range three point four miles. Activating AN/SLQ 32 countermeasures.”
The Principal Warfare Officer Air, came over as clearly concerned by the tone of his voice.
“PWOA, don’t activate the fire control radar.”
“Bogies closing low to our starboard. Closing, closing, mark. Five hundred twenty knots.” Captain Brockman heard the two jets rushing by, even in the control room.
“Sir, Officer of the Deck reports two Shenyang J-11s passed low to our starboard.”
“Ok, maintain course. Monitor them for fire control radar emissions. If they do, paint em and get a RIM 162 SAM locked on.”
“They’re coming in again sir.”
“Aren’t you going to paint them with the SPG 62, just for a warning?” asked the XO.
She smiled. “No, this is all just one dick measuring contest. Good job I’m a woman.”
SHE STARED OUT OF THE wide full height window door, looking over the forest slopes below. The sun had risen, dispelling the faint ethereal fog.
Zhi Ruo smiled it was, simple yet beautiful.
It was a soft haunting, painted land. But it was not her land. Paul had left several days ago, but he’d be back soon.
She’d contacted someone, a diplomat who posed as a heating engineer, of all things.
There was a surprisingly good cell phone service here and she’d used one of her alternative SIM cards to make contact. Her package would arrive today. She’d be able to rig up the surveillance bugs and cameras. It wasn’t difficult; she’d been trained well. Zhi knew she’d be pin up of the week among the dirty bastards of section 3, padding around naked, fucking her CIA client. But she knew her friend Tang Tian would remove them quickly.
She admitted to herself, she did like him. He was quite caring and kind. Paul could be funny in that western way. He knew how to use his man stick on her. But they where from different lands and served different masters.
First, that day, it would be a walk, get to know the area better, get to know escape routes if needed. She’d take her Pentax out and take some pictures. Zhi slid the door open and walked out into the beautiful West Virginia forest.
LATER SHE RETURNED, after lunch the UPS truck arrived, she signed for the package, opened it and set to work, then surveyed the cameras and bugs.
It was time for a test.
“Living room. Text if you see and hear.” A double ding sounded.
“Kitchen.” A double ding.
“Hallway.” A double ding.
“Bedroom.” A double ding.
“Bathroom.” A double ding. Soon all were checked out.
Early evening she called the Chinese takeout delivery, Great Wok in Harrisonburg, pretending to speak poor English.
“Hi, I wan hot soup, sour. Treasure Szechuan Garlic Style. Egg rol. No, rol, rol. Egg rol. Ya roll. Ju-long to bring. Only Ju-long. I pay him dollar.”
An hour later, Ju-long knocked on the door and handed over the delivery. She paid him in dollar bills.
“Xiexie.”
First things first, she tucked into the meal. Not bad, not bad at all. A bit of home cooking, not up to her favourite Niu Dian on Kunming Street, but quite good. The hot and sour soup was very Kekou.
Then she returned to the delivery box, lifted away the covering paper and took out a flat plastic pack.
She opened it and took out the documents. The heading of the Ministry of State Security was clearly visible to anyone who knew what they were looking at. Zhi read it and smiled. Nice one.
THE NEXT NIGHT PAUL was due around eight. She changed into a bathrobe and let her silky black hair down. She heard his car rolling up the drive and then the car door slamming shut. Zhi turned her body to face a camera and gave it the finger. “You dirty bastards.”
The door opened.
“Hi, Paul, I’ve something for you.”
“Oh, what’s that? Is it nice sweetest?”
She approached him, undid her robe and let it fall to the floor.
“That’s for you to decide.”
She took his right hand and placed it palm towards her, between her legs. She rubbed herself with his hand.
“Well, is it nice?”