Commander Li’s guard lieutenant called the American crewmen to order and told them to halt and stand at attention in the presence of the most honored Head of Security for the China’s Southern Fleet. Then Commander Li himself stepped forward and informed everyone they would be kept here in the jail on this island for a period of perhaps three weeks; then, depending on their degree of cooperation, they would be sent home in their submarine. Meanwhile there was much to do, and cells were being allocated temporarily. They would be given permanent quarters later in the afternoon, “pending reports.”
Commander Li then left the jail complex, marching out through the still-open gates, accompanied by an escort of four guards. Once clear of the main south wall they swung into the smaller of the two buildings the Americans had seen, the one with the radio aerials, the one designated Camp HQ and Commandant’s Quarters, Commander Li’s own little kingdom until further notice. The much bigger building was the main administration center, including stores and accommodations for the guard force.
Meanwhile, Commander Li was in conference with his four accompanying guards, all of whom were professional PLAN interrogators who had been silently studying the Americans for two days, including the sea voyage. And the first thing Li wanted to know was which of the senior officers might be vulnerable.
He was told that the captain was probably out of the question. They all assessed Judd Crocker as a hard and dangerous opponent, who not only would never tell them anything, but would probably take great joy in telling them a pack of lies about Seawolf and its workings. They felt the same about Brad Stockton, whom they assessed as “very dangerous” and the kind of man who might lead a breakout if he had the chance. They thought he was a man who would think nothing of killing for his freedom, and they recommended he be kept as far away from the captain as possible.
Commander Li was thoughtful. “A breakout would of course be childish,” he said. “There is no escape from this island. At the slightest hint of trouble we would helicopter in reinforcements from Canton, if necessary move warships and patrol craft into the area. From the air, we could wipe them all out if we felt like it, or leave them to starve in the jungle. Remember, they only get off Xiachuan Dao if we say so.”
The interrogators compared notes. They were agreed on two things: Lt. Commander Cy Rothstein might not stand up to physical abuse, and Lt. Commander Bruce Lucas was very, very frightened. The sonar officer, Frank, was very young and might be intimidated if he thought there was no way out except to reveal the intricate details of his electronic systems.
“How about the officer in charge of the reactor?”
“Well, you remember the captain ordered him to tell us what we wanted to know after we executed the American seaman in Canton? He was very difficult, and it was necessary to punish him before he would even assist us in shutting down the reactor.”
“Do you think he learned a lesson, or will he continue to try to block our questions?”
“I think we have to work on the theory that he cracked last time and did what we asked.”
“Yes. But, of course, he was also under orders from his own captain to comply with our wishes.”
“Yessir. And we had to put someone to death to get Captain Crocker to agree to issue that order.”
“Then we will put someone else to death…and then someone else…and then someone else…until they obey.”
Admiral Zhang Yushu occupied the main desk in Zu Jicai’s office, as he always did on his visits, the Southern Commander deferring to his C-in-C. And now the two men sat together pondering the latest communication from the Chinese ambassador to Washington, His Excellency Ling Guofeng, a.k.a. Who Flung Dung, in a corner of President Clarke’s White House.
The official communiqué revealed that the first editions of the American Saturday newspapers were carrying a small inside-page story about the crippled Seawolf. There had, apparently, been a press release from the Navy Department at the Pentagon quite late on Friday evening.
The three newspapers studied by the ambassador had carried only four or five paragraphs, all under headlines along the lines of, “U.S. SUB GETS CHINESE HELP.” Only the New York Times carried the paragraph that stated that the U.S. Navy’s CNO had personally thanked Admiral Zhang Yushu. But the Washington Post had cross-referenced the story on the front page: “U.S. SUB STALLED IN CHINA.”
Admiral Zu thought it was all extremely good news. “Well, sir, they believe us, at least for the moment. There’s no sign there of any hostility, no sign even of American unrest. It is my view that our ambassador is doing a most excellent job.”
Admiral Zhang was not so sure. “I don’t trust them, my friend Jicai. I do not trust those men in the Pentagon one inch. And there are several things bothering me at this time.
“First, why did they take so long to issue a press statement — they could have done something last Wednesday. And why Saturday night, so late? That’s unusual. There are few people in the Pentagon on Friday night at nine-thirty, and even fewer in the newspaper offices. Why not issue it on Friday afternoon, when there are people everywhere? Or even save it until Monday morning? No, Jicai. This was deliberate. Very curious.
“Second, the New York paper mentions a personal word of thanks to me from the Chief of U.S. Naval Operations. Remember, this press release was written on Friday. It is now Sunday, and I have received no word of thanks from anybody. That makes it a lie.
“Third, I notice they do not mention Canton, as they would call the city. Why not? It’s almost as if they do not want their own newspapers to be aware of the whole truth. Why not say where Seawolf is? Maybe they do not want American journalists snooping around the Navy base in Guangzhou and finding out there is high security. If this press release were true, if they really believed there was cooperation, they would surely encourage their own reporters to come to Canton and see our two great nations working together to repair the submarine. Excellent public relations, excellent for them and for us. Excellent for future trade.
“I smell a very large rat, my Jicai. And he’s not even due here for two years.”
Admiral Zu smiled. “Are you sure you are not being a little too suspicious, Yushu? Perhaps they really do believe us, and are just wishing to remain our friends.”
“I wish that were so, Jicai. And I agree there is much for the Americans and the Chinese to share. Unfortunately, I must quote one of our oldest proverbs to you: tongchuang yimeng…to sleep in the same bed, but to have different dreams.”
Admiral Morgan and Colonel Frank Hart were deep in conference, and had been since 0800. Three times the admiral had called his old office at the ultrasecret National Security Agency at Fort Meade, Maryland, to inquire if there was any news on the whereabouts of the crew of Seawolf. But the agency had little to add. All anyone knew was that the prisoners had all been removed from the Canton jail and been taken to the naval base. Since no warship had been observed anywhere on the Pearl River, nor even moving across the Delta, the conclusion was that the men were still on the base, though precisely where was a mystery. The satellites were transmitting many excellent images, but the area seemed quiet and there did not appear to be a building that would hide more than 100 newly arrived prisoners.