great cities.
Madame Mao employed the young Kan for four years, at the end of which she personally granted him his wish to join the People’s Liberation Army-Navy. And as a kid born a block from the Shanghai waterfront, he made the most of his chances, quickly attaining officer rank. He was a tall, distant man, dark, smooth, and friendless, but he was an efficient commander of a surface ship. Never popular, he was involved only once in a scandalous incident when he was suspected of cutting the throat of a Shanghai prostitute. It was however never proven.
When Kan made the transfer to submarines his stature improved rapidly. He became a fearless underwater commander, reputed to be the best Weapons Officer in the entire Navy. A few senior commanders, however, knew of his terrible past, and most of his colleagues preferred to give him a wide berth.
Admiral Zhang had known all along that the bloodstained hands of this strange and emotionless killer were the precise hands he wanted at the helm of K-9 or K-10. Zhang knew instinctively that if the US Navy was hunting down the Chinese submarines, it was being done by a Black Ops nuclear boat. He also knew that the American commanding officer on such a mission would be a merciless opponent.
Whoever the American was, he would have a good match in Captain Kan, who would shoot to kill at the slightest provocation. And these were orders Admiral Zhang had no compunction about issuing. Not in this instance. And the new satellite message to K-10, as it headed for Shanghai, bore out his views to the letter.
231730SEPT. In the Shanghai Naval Base. Admiral Zhang Yushu threw his arms around Captain Kan with delight as the commanding officer of K-10 stepped ashore from the submarine, which had journeyed the Siberian route from northern Russia. He instructed his staff to ensure that the Russian liaison team that had accompanied the Chinese Captain halfway around the world be treated with honor. He then invited the six Russians to dine with him and the senior Chinese officers that evening.
Before dinner he would personally debrief Captain Kan. But in the ensuing hour he learned little that he did not already know.
No, the submarines had never been aware of a pursuing US nuclear boat. Yes, the underwater sound barrier, which they had believed would keep them safe, did in fact block out everything. No, they had no hard evidence of an attack. If the ninth Kilo had been hit by a torpedo it had to have been brilliantly delivered. Yes, they had been almost a mile away at the time. Yes, their sonar room had reported an explosion at that time, but it was just impossible to conclude what had caused it, with all the tremendous noise they were surrounded by. As indeed they had been since the Bering Strait.
Admiral Zhang finally asked the one question that would plague him for all of his days: “Do you think it would have been better to make the Americans aware of the presence of the Typhoon running south between the two Kilos?”
“Yessir. Yes, I do. As a matter of fact I assumed they were aware. You have surprised me greatly…I cannot believe no one knew the Typhoon was in attendance.”
On October 1, Admiral Zhang dispatched the new Kilo to Canton, a 1,200-mile journey south from Shanghai that would take six days, under the command of Captain Kan, now with an all-Chinese crew.
On October 7, at the new submarine docks on the Pearl River, the Kilo was formally handed over to Vice Admiral Zu Jicai, the Commander of the Southern Fleet. Admiral Zhang believed that the submarine’s business was better conducted from Canton, because he might soon send it much farther south, to find out precisely where the Taiwanese were conducting their nuclear experiments. The actual recapture of the Island of Taiwan would have to wait until he had negotiated a new deal for more Kilos from the Russians.
At 1030 on October 14, a Field Officer in the Chinese Intelligence Service reported to General Fang Wei that Professor Liao Lee of Taiwan National University had suddenly vanished. He had failed to show up after the Double Tenth National Day vacation. Students mystified. Faculty silent.
General Fang hit the secure phone line to Admiral Zhang’s office in nearby Naval Headquarters, Beijing. He reported the conversation with the Field Officer and requested any information about the departure of Hai Lung 793.
Admiral Zhang suggested the General come to his office instantly. One hour later they had ascertained that the Dutch-built submarine had already left two days previously, on October 12. Both men were now certain that the renowned nuclear physicist was on board. They were equally certain that something important had happened at the mysterious nuclear laboratory, wherever it was in the cold south.
But Zhang thought he knew where, and he sent an immediate signal to Admiral Zu Jicai in Canton: “
Twelve hours later, at 1100 local — it was still October 14 at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia — the Far East Chief Frank Reidel fielded a coded satellite message from Taipei. It had plainly originated from their priceless dock foreman in the submarine base at Suao…Carl Chimei.
It stated that he was almost certain he had recognized a civilian passenger boarding Hai Lung 793 at first light on October 12, two days previously. He had recently read an article in a Taiwan National University brochure that carried two photographs of the man. Carl Chimei would swear the passenger was Taiwan’s most eminent nuclear physicist, Professor Liao Lee.
Frank Reidel cast protocol to the winds and opened up the ultra-secure line to the White House straight through to Admiral Arnold Morgan.
“Morgan…speak.”
“Frank Reidel here, sir.”
“Hi, Frank, what’s hot?”
“Our man in Taipei is certain he saw the most important nuclear scientist in Taiwan board one of the Hai Lung submarines, hull 793, at first light on October 12. It left almost immediately, no one knows where.”
“Hey, Frank. That’s good information. Real good. Keep it tight.” At which point he just slammed down the phone.
“Rude prick,” said the CIA man, grinning. But added to himself, “Some kind of an operator that ignorant sonofabitch…and the worst part is…I almost like him.”
Admiral Morgan told his secretary to get Charlie right outside the door and then to call Admiral Mulligan and tell him to “sit still, till I get there.”
In the Pentagon an hour later, it took only a few minutes for the two Admirals to agree it was about time they took a serious look at the activities of the Taiwanese on “that goddamned island.” “Jesus Christ,” said Arnold Morgan. “Those crazy pricks might be into germ warfare or something…they’re so damned neurotic about the mainland Chinese.”
“More likely nuclear, especially with this hotshot professor on his way there in a goddamned submarine,” growled the CNO.
At 1237 Admiral Mulligan put a secure signal on the satellite to
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151200OCT. China’s newest Kilo Class submarine left Canton and ran fair down the Pearl River for fifty miles, past the twin cities of Kowloon and Macau, which stand on opposite banks guarding the huge Chinese estuary. Beyond the myriad of tiny islands that litter the hectic expanse of the South China Sea, the Kilo dived and headed east, making nine knots. It would take her three and a half days to clear the northern point of the Philippines, before turning south for the distant Lombok Strait and then Kerguelen. Captain Kan Yu-fang was in command.
151936OCT. USS
