Kilo Class

“There were no survivors from the crew, sir. And I am afraid we may have killed one or two passengers. Plainly we were not able to leave any of them alive to tell their story.”

“Quite. But I did understand there were some prisoners.”

“Yessir. We found a small group of scientists in a cabin below. They were unarmed and very frightened. I could not bring myself to have them shot in cold blood. I am a soldier, not a murderer.”

“You took them prisoner?”

“Yessir. We towed the ship into a small cove, slightly beyond the main entrance, and secured it under a curtain overhang. Then we collected every document, every scrap of paper from the ship, and burned everything.

“The generators and engines still worked, and we just kept her running, the same as the nuclear submarine. We had plenty of fuel and food. And it just took one guard to ensure they remained aboard. I thought the best thing would be to keep them incarcerated until we eventually close down the facility and leave the island. So far as I know, none of them knew who we were, nor what we were engaged in. We did interrogate them, and none of them even knew where they were.”

“I see. Presumably they are still in the ship?”

“Yessir.”

“It will be difficult to release them.”

“Yessir. But you will recall, sir, that some of those Middle East terrorists incarcerated some quite eminent people for years on end and were mostly not caught because the hostages did not know where they were. I have been telling myself this is precisely our situation. I am, sir, most reluctant to have unarmed, nonmilitary US citizens put to death for no reason.”

“No doubt. But if anyone ever found out, the consequences would be monumental. The United States government would react violently to public opinion. It may be better to dispose of them.”

“Sir, I have spoken to my superiors about this matter. And I do not think any branch of the Taiwanese Armed Services would be anxious to carry out such executions.”

“Admiral Shi-Ta?”

“Nossir. That is not an order I would wish to issue. It would be different if the prisoners were in the military.”

“I too think the execution of American civilians is a very bad idea. And I accept the wisdom of my Commanders. We must however think long and hard about the method of release, when the time comes. Although they do not know who we are, or where they are. Which is to our advantage.”

“Yessir.”

“Do we have any contingency plan, should a Chinese warship come visiting?”

“Nossir, we do not. Though in that case I believe we would have to sink it, instantly.”

“Yes, I’m inclined to agree with that. Which would mean we might need another submarine down there, which we do not have…Admiral, I think we should discuss that with General Jin-Chung, at the conclusion of this conference.”

“Sir.”

And now the Captain of the Hai Lung was summoned to give his report, which was brief and efficient. There had been no problems with either submarine, they were running down to Kerguelen submerged, right on time, and had become experts at sliding into the fjord still underwater, and not coming to periscope depth until they were well down Repos.

The question of using the submarines as freighters was also working extremely well, particularly in the transportation of the unrefined Uranium-239, which was relatively easy to obtain, even while avoiding the international supervisory bodies. Packed in specially designed lead and polyethylene canisters, the radioactive uranium was transported in the safest possible environment — underwater, where it was undetectable from any form of surveillance, on or above the earth.

When the meeting broke for lunch at 1300, tea was brought in, served in the most beautifully painted china, which looked a lot like Royal Doulton but was, unsurprisingly, made in Taiwan.

The President went to the window with his Foreign Minister, Chien-Pei Liu. The two men were thoughtful as they stared east, beyond the spectacular gardens that surround the wondrous architecture of the Chiang Kaishek Memorial.

There was so much to protect here in this scenic, mountainous island, where the glorious rivers flow with money and the great oceans wash billions of American dollars into the economy each year. “Here in Taiwan we are on the verge of creating the world’s first genuine Shangri-la,” the President said. “We have opportunities that no nation has ever enjoyed. Only one nation stands in our way. I pray we will be in time to frighten them off, for good.”

He did not, of course, know that China was keenly aware of precisely what he was up to — although Beijing did not know where. Neither did he realize that America knew precisely where he was up to something, although they did not know what.

11

A warm, subtropical rain swept across the narrow two-mile-long causeway leading to China’s island seaport of Xiamen. Hunched against the stiff, offshore sou’wester, all alone, strode the unmistakable figure of Admiral Zhang Yushu. He was bareheaded, wearing dark blue foul-weather gear, and was without his customary horn- rimmed spectacles. It was 0700, and the overcast sky and rain stretched all the way to the eastern seaward horizon, beyond which lay the rebel island of Taiwan.

Occasionally a passing worker on a bicycle would nod to him in greeting as he pedaled past. Zhang was a familiar sight around Xiamen, particularly in the summer months, when he and his wife and family tried to spend time in their big villa on Gulangyu Island, known as the Isle of the Thundering Waves, which lies right at the front of the town, across the Lujiang Channel.

Admiral Zhang had been born right in these waters, on his father’s elderly freighter, and for as long as he could remember, he had loved the long walk along this rocky causeway from the mainland. Then, as now, the lazy, gaff-rigged junks in the distance made their way ponderously across the mouth of the Nine Dragon River.

When his father died, the ship was sold, and the young Naval officer had invested the proceeds in a broken- down property on the nicest side of Gulangyu, overlooking the rugged coastline of the Strait, close to the southern beach. Over the years he had improved the property, which was set amid abundant trees and flowers, building a beautiful house with a curved red roof. Now, should he ever sell, he would become a relatively rich man. His wife, Lan, whom he had met at the university, was also a native of Xiamen, and their dream was to retire here, deep in South China’s green and mountainous Fujian Province, home to both of their families for a thousand years.

Zhang was grateful that the Navy had maintained a Naval base on the edge of Xiamen, a base equipped to deal with submarines, and where he had established a summer office. Each morning a Naval launch arrived at the Gulangyu dock to ferry the C in C to his office at the Xiamen base. For the remainder of the year, the Admiral and his family lived in Beijing.

In the early hours of this morning, July 21, he had made the eight-mile journey down to the causeway by ferry and car, specifically to walk its length and back. It was a place where he could think, where the fresh ocean breezes cleared his mind, and where he could remain undisturbed for hours. The Admiral walked like a marching army, illusively fast.

Zhang’s task was of such a highly secretive nature he had elected to spend two hours at his villa with the South Sea Fleet Commander, Admiral Zu Jicai, and to draft a plan to nail down the precise destination of the vanishing Taiwanese Hai Lungs. It was obvious to him that the government across the Strait was in the process of creating its own nuclear deterrent. The question he had to answer, for his great mentor and supporter, the Paramount Ruler, was where? And to do that he had to find a way to track Taiwan’s two