PAUL WICKS SAT AT HIS desk; he was reading material on Chinese intel activities in South East Asia. The section director appeared.
“Paul. Come with me, we need to make a call.”
He followed him to a secure conference room. The director punched in a code on the large meeting phone. It was on speaker.
“We’re going to call the Chief of Naval staff, Admiral Kamov. Just tell him what you know, don’t disclose anything about our sources or activities. Any doubt, just shrug and nod to me. Ok?”
“Yes sir.”
The phone rang.
“Kamov.”
“Admiral, CIA Asia section Director. I have Jackpot with me. I understand you’d like a word.”
“Yeah, this Chinese Ministry of State Security document I’ve got from you, it’s a bit drastic on their part. Jackpot, this contact you’ve got; are you close to him?”
Paul thought, it’s not a man and I couldn’t get much closer.
“Yes sir.”
“So you’re confident?”
“Yes sir.”
“I wanted to ask you because I want you to know what you’ll be putting in place. Some of my people could be in grave danger acting on the causes of this situation. They’re depending on this information.”
“Sir, I believe it’s good information. It’s not first hand, of course.”
“Ok, son. It’s going to get awful hot in the South China Sea. The shit’s not going to hit the fan. It’s going to blow the living fuck out of it.”
The connection was cut.
“You did ok,” said the director. He sighed. “I hope we’re right Wicks, we have our dicks out on the chopping block.”
Paul returned to his desk. I’ve done the best I know how. I hope it’s good enough.
“SONAR, GIVE ME A SITREP,” asked Nathan.
“The Luyang is nine miles to the northwest, heading east, no sonar activity. No evidence so far that it’s operating a Helix.”
That was odd, he knew. It was classic tactics to scout out the area ahead with a Helix helicopter, sonobuoys, dipping sonar, the lot.
“Why no Helix, XO?”
Larry shrugged. “It may be that it’s unserviceable.”
Nathan shook his head. “I don’t get that lucky.”
“Shit happens to them too, sir.” He knew that was true; how many times had he been on the shitty end of it? He knew they where almost halfway along the south end of the Cay now.
“Planesman come about, head north.” The boat leaned to port as it turned; the crew leaned to the right to keep their balance. Seatbelts kept the seated officers at their consoles.
“Ok Weaps, give me an update from the dummies guide.”
“Sir, she’ll have the usual launchers for Yu-7 torpedoes. But probably no ASROC equivalent.
Yu-7, range nine miles, forty-three knots. If the Helix is down, they’re her teeth.”
“Ok, stay on our heading; let’s keep a bit of room though. Weaps, get a big fish ready.”
The Weapons Officer’s hands ran over the console. “Mk 48 CBASS ready in tube one. Firing solution laid in, designated target Tango one, sir.”
“Flood tube one.”
“Aye sir. Tube one flooded. Fish is ready in all respects.”
For several minutes he cruised slowly north as the Destroyer followed the line of the Cay and headed northeast.
“Sir. We have an active ping from Tango one. He’ll be getting a good return from that.”
“Let me know if we get a course change from him. Planesman, come to eight five degrees.”
“Active ping. Course change to our bearing, speed 27 knots.”
“Come to one five degrees, speed 20 knots.” The Destroyer would gain on them, there was no getting away from that.
“Benson. Range to Tango one?”
“Ten point seven miles and closing.”
He had to take action soon, there wasn’t much time left.
“Sir, surface impact. It’s ASROC. Torpedo prop sounds, sinking, searching.” So much for the Destroyer not having an ASROC equivalent. They’d launched a rocket propelled torpedo. It had descended on a parachute, detached it and then entered the sea above; it was now searching for them.
“Enemy fish has found us and gone active, sir. Range three miles.”
“Ready countermeasures. Stream the lure fish.”
“Closing sir. Now one point eight miles.”
The lure was towed behind the boat; the TB29/A1 was a product of the high priests of underwater deception, L-3 Chesapeake Sciences Corp.
“Weaps, dance the lure.”
In this mode, the lure would attempt to confuse the torpedo's sonar by emitting simulated submarine noise, such as propeller and engine noise, which was more attractive than the boat to the torpedo's sensors.
“The lure’s dancing sir.”
“Call out the range, Sonar.”
“One point two miles…point eight miles…point three miles…Three hundred yards.” Nathan counted down.
“Deploy countermeasures port side. Blow one and two forward. Come hard to starboard.”
The boat’s bow rose alarmingly and it came hard to the right. The crew hung on for life.
The Chinese homing torpedo streaked in fast, with one thing on its mind. Death.
The Jackson’s death.
Chapter 10
THERE WAS A LOUD DEEP impact to the left and the boat shifted hard to the right. Explosive gas boiled and bubbled into the sea. The crew hung on.
“Shit.”
“Damage control.” The boat wallowed in the turbulence.
“Weaps. Open outer doors tube one,” said Nathan, “firing solution status?”
“Tube one ready in all respects. We are locked and loaded, sir.”
“On my mark. Launch tube one.”
“Launch. Fish away and hungry.” The Mk 48 sped off north for its quarry.
“Weaps, program the fish for a belly shot.”
“Ready Mk 48.”
“Tube two ready sir.”
“Flood tube two.” The first could miss, a backup was a wise move.
“Aye sir.”
“Fish range one point five miles,” said Weaps. “Active, acquired Tango one. Cutting wire. Running in, running in. The fish is greedy now. Closing, closing.” Benson stood and raised his forearms.
“Goddam it. Yes. Hot datum Tango one.”
Nathan grinned. “Good shooting Weaps.”
Now it was time to take on the second Destroyer.
“Come to four zero degrees, speed 12 knots.” After cruising to the east for several minutes, Nathan called a stop.
“Rig trim to ascend fore and aft. Up bubble 15. I want periscope depth. Come to zero degrees.”
“Aren’t we better out east sir?” suggested the XO. “That way we can surprise them. Get a fish in as soon as they show.”
Nathan looked at his XO with a knowing smirk. “No. I’m going to surprise them alright. Weaps. What’s our war shot?”
“Sir, tubes two to four Mk 48. Tube one is being loaded with a Mk48 right now. Tubes five and six Harpoon.”
“Select tube five, Harpoon. Firing solution. Program for autonomous search.”
“Sir?” asked the XO.
“We’re going to launch the missile over the Cay. The Harpoon will search for the target with its on-board radar. The PLAN Destroyer won’t have a chance. The missile will appear over the Cay and be on them in a minute. They use the type 730 Close-In Weapon System. It’ll throw a wall of lead out, but it needs time to acquire its target. I won’t give it that time.”
He turned to the alluring siren at the navigation station. “Kaminski, best estimate to the target’s position?”
She worked at the computer. “Twenty degrees Sir.”
“Come to 22 degrees.” Nathan left a little allowance for a delay. “Weaps. Flood tube five, open outer doors. Let the bird fly.”