U.S.S. Seawolf

signal apart a lot faster than it had been put together. And now he was ready for the course change to three-six- zero.

“Right standard rudder…make your course north…speed ten.”

And for 15 minutes they ran on, from two miles off the Xia’s port quarter and crossing her stern, heading inshore. The navigational plot confirmed she was still heading west.

So far as Linus could see, the situation was precarious enough already without heading straight for the Chinese southern naval headquarters.

Clarke was now seeking reassurance from the captain, not directly, of course, but there was anxiety in his voice as he ventured, “Probably lost ’em now, right, sir? Guess we got away with it? Time to head for deep water?”

But Judd Crocker was deep in thought, and he believed they had most definitely been located. “Make your speed eight knots…up periscope. Comms-Captain…be alert for a contact report from Xia…any second now…lemme know when it’s in.”

“Comms, AYE.”

Another five minutes went by, and Seawolf continued northward.

“Captain-Comms…contact report coming in…translating.”

“Captain, aye.”

“Captain-Comms…reception completed.”

“Captain…roger. Down periscope.”

“Send it right up to the conn.”

“Aye, sir.”

Petty Officer Chase Utley brought it up in person and handed it to the captain, who scanned it quickly.

“Good. They have us headed south at twelve knots from datum position 20.00N 111.30E.

“Rig for silent running. Make your speed seven knots.”

“But, Captain,” said Linus Clarke, “you givin’ up? That’s steering straight for the Chinese blowhole, straight for the Southern Fleet’s biggest base. That’s crazy.”

“Not at all, Linus. That’s strategy. Because the last place they’d ever dream of looking for us is straight up their own ass.”

0705. Tuesday, July 4.

Office of Southern Fleet Commander.

Zhanjiang.

Admiral Zu Jicai stared at an amplifying signal from the Xia III: “0655. July 4. 20N 112.46E. Positive periscope contact visual close aboard. Assessed POSIDENT U.S. nuclear submarine. Last known course south. Speed 12. Clearing area to west.”

Admiral Zu hit the buttons ordering his operational fleet into action: “Execute ASW contingency Plan Seven…search datum 20N 111.30E…search orientation one-eight-zero. Speed of advance 12.”

The Southern Fleet had been on high alert for this for the past 24 hours, and the ships detailed for this mission prepared to leave, seek out, and if possible blow apart the American marauder.

Four destroyers were casting their lines by 0742—three of them, Changsha, Nanning and Guilin, were almost identical to the Nanchang, which had taken part in the underwater barrage off Taiwan. They were all 3,500-ton heavily gunned guided-missile warships with antisubmarine mortars and depth charges, a bit slow but dangerous when they arrived. The fastest of the four was the updated Luda III, Zuhai, with its very advanced sonars and specialist CY-1 antisubmarine weapon.

Admiral Zhang himself had personally ordered the Zuhai straight to Zhanjiang from the failed Taiwan trap, in readiness for the task Admiral Zu’s fleet now had to tackle.

Five Jangjui-class frigates were also on their way. These were small antisubmarine specialists, similar to the Shantou, which had been in action off Taiwan the previous day. Zigong, Dongguan, Anshun, Yibin and Maoming, their sonar Echo Type 5s ready, were preparing to load their depth-charge launchers before they’d cleared the harbor wall.

Two fast-attack craft were also dispatched, 500-ton Haiqing Type 037s, which carried China’s biggest ASW mortars, and were currently being built at the fastest rate of any patrol boat in the Chinese Navy. The Haiqings had very hot sonars, hull-mounted, active search and attack only at slow speed.

From the naval airstrip, two frontline attack aircraft, Harbin SH-5s, were preparing for takeoff, engines screaming as they waited for clearance, their big powerful depth bombs and state-of-the-art Russian sonobuoys loaded.

Two French-built Aerospatiale Super Frelon ASW helicopters were already in the air heading south. And these were really dangerous. They ran above the water at a steady 140 knots, and they carried HS 12 dipping sonar, with superb French-built search radar. Their specialist weapon was antisubmarine torpedoes, and they had the capacity to find their quarry. They’d be out in the ASW search area well inside the hour.

Two Haitun helicopters were also dispatched. These refined Dauphin 2s, locally built, would travel at 140 knots all the way, with a range of almost 500 miles. Once out there, they could do a lot of searching, and they carried medium-range, radar-guided anti-ship missiles, should Seawolf be forced to surface.”

Admiral Zu picked up the telephone and reported his actions to the Commander-in-Chief, who listened carefully. “I told you so, Jicai. They’re out there. They’ve been out there for days.”

“But how did they avoid the underwater barrage yesterday?”

“Because the American commanding officer knows precisely what he’s doing, that’s why. Remember, he’s faster than us, he’s quieter than us, and he’s a lot cleverer than us, because he’s had a lot more practice driving state-of-the-art submarines. Remember, too, Seawolf is lethal. Her combat systems officer is probably the smartest man in the U.S. Navy, next to her CO. I don’t know what weapons she’s carrying, but if she decided to sink one or all of our ships, she could probably do it.

“Of course, I doubt she would. The Americans don’t really want a hot war any more than we do…but she mustn’t be provoked. We just want to blow a big hunk off her hull while she’s under the water, and then let her sink gracefully to the bottom…such a pity, Jicai, to lose such a fine ship under such unfortunate, accidental circumstances…if only we had known she was there.”

040845JUL06.

20.20N 111.30E. Speed 6.

Periscope depth.

Course three-six-zero.

Seawolf crept north, toward Zhanjiang. She made no sound, and she left no wake. At 10 minutes before 10:00 A.M. Judd Crocker ordered her periscope up for a few seconds only, and instantly comms reported, “Multiple danger level X-Band rackets. CHAOS…no other word for it.”

Though Judd could not know it, the sky was already alive with clattering naval helicopters a few miles to the south of them, and two patrol planes were making long circles around the central operations area. He risked a quick all-around look, and spotted the Xia four miles over to the west, heading north in the now-improving visibility.

Putting the periscope down, he risked a 45-second exposure of the ESM mast. And they picked up signals nineteen to the dozen. In the communications room the spooks were translating from the Chinese at their fastest possible rate. There was no doubt, the PLAN’s Southern Fleet was conducting a major search for an’ UNIDENT submarine, last seen three hours ago.

Perhaps even more important, less than eight miles off Seawolf’s bow, traveling fast on a southerly course, was a fleet of at least six Chinese warships, maybe more. Kyle Frank had detected certainly one destroyer, five frigates, and maybe a fast-attack patrol craft. Seawolf’s comms room was working overtime.

So was the sonar room. Exit routes from the base sounded like an angry hornets’ nest. As the minutes ticked anxiously by, the plot showed eleven different surface contacts heading south toward Seawolf.