U.S.S. Seawolf

would, just to check.”

“Conn-Sonar. Range rate now opening…the Xia has probably resumed her course, sir. She bears one-eight-zero…speed twelve knots like before.…”

“Excellent,” said the CO. “She was just checking, and I expect she’ll do it again before we’re much older. Stand by, Kyle, it could happen anytime.”

They ran on south for another 100 miles before the Xia turned again, and again Captain Crocker evaded, moving east and waiting for the Chinese captain to return to his course.

But the pattern changed as they approached the 26-degree line. The Xia, now running south-southwest in line with the islands, made as if to turn, but then took an even more westerly route, heading quite suddenly for the northern waters of the Taiwan Strait.

Judd attempted to follow, at least up to the line of the Japanese current, where the water was still 3,000 feet deep in places. But beyond there it began to shelve right up to 150 feet. Seawolf could not go into the Strait without being immediately detected, because of the surface wake.

And to no one’s surprise, Xia III came suddenly to the surface 30 miles off the northwest coast of Taiwan, before proceeding down the much-disputed stretch of seaway that separates mainland China from her wealthy independent neighbors.

Seawolf was stranded, and with mixed feelings Captain Crocker turned around and headed back into the deep water east of the island.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “we’re going to plan B. My guess is that the Xia is heading for one of their bases, maybe with a problem, or two, or ten. I expect she’ll make for Xiamen. From there when she continues, I think she’ll go south and exit the Strait at the far end. We, meanwhile, will make a fast run around the seaward side of Taiwan in deep water, and then creep up the south coast to wait for her.”

Wednesday evening. June 28.

Gulangyu Island, Xiamen.

Admiral Zhang’s summer home, with its curved red roof and lush trees and flowers, was situated across the narrow Lujiang Channel, on the Isle of the Thundering Waves. Tonight, he and his wife, Lan, enjoying the soft sea breezes, sat quietly sipping white wine with their great friend Admiral Zu Jicai, Commander of the Southern Fleet.

Both men had flown into Xiamen by Navy aircraft that morning, Zhang from Shanghai, Admiral Zu from his Fleet HQ in Zhanjiang way down in the south.

“And so, my friend Yushu, you really believe there is an American submarine out there in the China Sea tracking the new Xia?”

“I do, and I dearly want to do something about it. But I don’t know what I can do. I know they’re out there, but heaven knows where.”

“It’s a big ocean, and we don’t really know where to start, huh?”

“No. We don’t. But I am wondering whether that slight valve problem that has caused our submarine to put into Xiamen tonight might, in the end, be good for us.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, if you were the American Commander and you were quietly following the Xia down the Yellow Sea and she suddenly broke off and headed down the shallow Taiwan Strait on the surface, what would you do?”

“I don’t know, really, but with a big ship like Seawolf, I obviously could not follow her.”

“Correct. So what would you do? Wait…I’ll tell you. First, you would guess there was a problem and that she was heading for one of our bases on the far shore, right? And you, my friend Jicai, driving that very fast American attack submarine, would race right around the outside of Taiwan and try to pick her up again when she exits the Strait at the south end.”

“Well,” said the Southern Commander thoughtfully, “you could send the Xia back to the north end, leaving the Americans stranded 300 miles away in the south.”

“No point. The American satellites would pick the Xia up in an instant, and simply- let Seawolf know where she was.”

“You don’t think the Americans would actually hit the Xia, do you?”

“Jicai, I really do not know. The trouble with submarines is they don’t get hit. At least not publicly. They just vanish, usually in thousands of feet of water. If Seawolf did hit our new submarine we would have no idea where it was. It could take years to find. We don’t have the technology — and even if we found it, we could certainly not bring it to the surface. It would just be another of those submarine mysteries. And there would be no point even asking the Pentagon. They’d just say they had no idea what we were talking about.”

“That’s why you are so anxious to get them out of our waters, eh?”

“Precisely. But I do know one thing. They are out there. I feel it. I am certain of it. I know them so well.”

The following morning, Admiral Zhang went for a long walk very early, before the heat of the morning set in. Then he and Admiral Zu had a light breakfast of tea and pastries before taking the short walk down to the shore, where the naval launch picked them up and ferried them over to the base.

Although Zhang was technically in charge of the entire Chinese Navy, it was Admiral Zu, working now in one of his own Southern Fleet bases, who called a staff meeting of six commanding officers currently in residence with their ships’ operational, destroyer and frigate captains.

He carefully explained the suspicions of the Commander-in-Chief, who sat impassively beside him. And he mentioned to them the possible detection by the Kilo, three days previous, of an American nuclear submarine.

He outlined an area off the southwest coast of Taiwan where he expected the American boat to be waiting tomorrow around midday. He pinpointed the position, 22.45N 119.50E, in the southern entrance to the Strait, 20 miles west of the Taiwan Banks, where the ocean shelves away from 300 feet to 1,000 feet. “That’s submarine country, gentlemen,” he said. “As you all well know.

“Tomorrow morning the Xia will leave Xiamen and head back out to deeper water to continue her trials,” he told them. “The American satellite will undoubtedly observe this. We thus expect the Americans to be on station somewhere around the area I have just given you, and the wishes of our Commander- in-Chief are that you open up with a barrage of depth charges and mortars. We want you to make enough noise to suggest a war is starting.

“Essentially we want to frighten them off — send them back to Pearl Harbor. But if one or more of you happens to blow the American hull apart and sink her, then you will receive the unspoken but nonetheless heartfelt thanks of our country.”

All six of the commanding officers smiled, and for the first time Admiral Zhang himself stood up and spoke to them. “Gentlemen, I am sure you understand. Such a terrible shame if the Americans brought their best submarine blundering into our waters, without telling us, right into the middle of one of our frequent fleet exercises in antisubmarine warfare. Such a pity for them to lose a great ship like that…but what can we say? We had no idea they were there. Most unfortunate. Most unfortunate.”

That speech received a serious laugh, with much nodding of heads, as the captains left to rejoin their warships.

Their little fleet would comprise the two heavily gunned Luda-class guided missile destroyers, Zhanjiang and Nanchang, both equipped with two FQF antisubmarine mortars (range 1,200 meters) plus four BMB depth-charge projectors. The new updated Luda III- class destroyer Zuhai, the fastest of the three, would be the only one carrying the CY-1 antisubmarine weapon.

The three light frigates were all of the Jianghu-class (Type 053), Shantou, Kangding, and Jishou, 1,500-tonners, all with A/S mortars and racks of depth charges, plus the Echo Type 5 sonar system, hull-mounted, active search and attack, medium frequency.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” said the C-in-C. “I know you will not let me down.”

300700JUN06.

22.00N 120.10E.