U.S.S. Seawolf

“The truth is that in the field of negotiations, we can’t win,” said Harcourt. “Because time is not on our side, it’s on theirs. They want slowness while they copy the submarine. We want action this day.”

“So whatever we do, we better do it quick,” said General Scannell.

“That’s the trouble, Tim,” added Admiral Morgan. “We don’t know what to do. Because if we make any kind of an attack, they may just start killing Seawolf’s crew.”

“I cannot believe we are powerless,” said the President.

“Nor can I,” said Admirals Morgan and Mulligan in unison.

“Well, how about a systematic, controlled cruise missile attack on their navy bases, right down the coast from Xiamen, then Ningbo, Canton, Zhanjiang and Haikou? Tell ’em we’ll stop when they hand back the submarine and the ship’s company?” Defense Secretary MacPherson looked thoughtful.

“Two reasons,” said Arnold Morgan. “First, they’ll start killing the prisoners, and second, we do not know how far they can throw an ICBM from the Xia III. I suspect only Judd and Linus know that, and they’re not available.”

For a moment there was silence around the table. And then the chairman of the Committee, Admiral Morgan, began to roll his gold pen between his thumb and forefinger, a sure sign that something was formulating in his mind.

“I just want to clear up one thing,” he said. “Because it’s too easy to take your eye off the ball when you are watching a very great President, and a very dear friend to some of us, agonizing over a dreadful personal tragedy. Well, it’s not a personal tragedy yet, but it seems like one from where he sits.

“What I wish to clarify is this. The issue is about one submarine, an attack submarine that cost us a billion dollars in research, a submarine that if it became a production model for Beijing would give us one hell of a headache. Because in their hands it could virtually lock Western shipping out of Chinese offshore waters. They could also dominate the narrow Strait into the Gulf of Iran, through which passes one-third of all the world’s oil, and it would enable them to blockade and then retake Taiwan.

“Seawolf is the best stealth/attack underwater ship ever built. You can’t hear it if stays under twenty knots, it packs a terrific wallop, and it escapes at over forty knots if necessary.

“Gentlemen, they must not have it.”

“Arnie, I thought they’d already got it,” said the President.

“Right. But they can’t keep it. I’m afraid we’re going to have to obliterate it, right there in Canton Harbor, before they finish their work on her.”

“You mean send in a team and blow it up. We’d never get ‘em out,” said Joe Mulligan.

“No. That’s not going to work. We’ll have to hit it with a smart bomb, bang in the middle of her reactor room.”

“Jesus, Arnie, that would turn the Canton dockyard area into a no-go radioactive nuclear zone for two hundred years,” said the President.

“Yes. I suppose it would.”

“And that’s World War Three.”

“It would be if they knew who did it. But how about we hit it from a great height, maybe sixty thousand feet, within hours of the time when they take the reactor critical? According to Fort Meade, it’s shut off right now.”

“Well, how do you know they plan to fire it up again?”

“They’ll fire it. You wanna get right into a submarine, find out how it works, you want its power supply running. My guess is that Seawolf will be running hot sometime in the next week. We catch it chock full of Chinese technicians and blow it off the face of the earth from a Stealth bomber way up in the stratosphere. No one will even see our bomb, which will come in vertically after dark.

“And all anyone will ever know is that stupid Chink technicians blew up the submarine while they were working on it. Crazy pricks had no idea what they were doing. No Americans around for miles.”

“Neat,” said the President. “Pretty damned good waste of a great boat, though.”

“That boat’s already wasted as far as we are concerned. We’re never going to see it again. But by hitting it, we ensure her secrets remain safe.”

“At least until we get a new Democratic administration,” said Harcourt.

“Don’t make me shudder,” said Arnold Morgan. “I’m already under severe stress.”

“Okay if I conclude this meeting, Mr. Chairman?” said the President. “I understand what you have outlined. And I think it would be better if we reconvened this afternoon, say at fifteen hundred. Meantime you could get a quick feasibility study done about such a bombing raid. Then we could talk more about the crew, and maybe we’ll have a few updates from the overheads, and possibly a reply from the ambassador. Let’s plan on working through dinner. Let’s face it, there’s nothing else matters like this matters.”

“Okay, sir. Just as you say. I’ll get all the stuff together and we’ll meet right here at fifteen hundred.” Admiral Morgan motioned for Joe Mulligan to join him, and the two men stood up and left immediately.

They walked in silence for a few paces before the CNO muttered, “You know, Arnie, I hate to go around in circles, but aren’t we always returning to the same problem…like any attack, they start killing the prisoners? I’m not sure it’s much different if the submarine blows up, however it happens. Might they not just start getting rid of the prisoners since they don’t really need them?”

“They might, Joe. And worse yet, they might start torturing them, trying to force information out of them about the systems. And that might be terrible. But I did not especially want to mention that in front of the President.”

“No sense doing that. You can see how upset he is.”

“Right…but Joe, we gotta think. We gotta get into my office and come up with something. And we gotta have it in the next four hours. Meanwhile, we’ll bounce their ambassador around some more. And their naval attache… but my God, Joe, this is a real bastard of a problem. Because we’re dealing with a hostage situation, whatever the Chinese say. And that’s always trouble.”

“Especially one particular hostage.”

“You got that right.”

For the next four hours the two admirals went around and around the puzzle. And every time they were blocked by the same threat — that of the Chinese starting to kill the captive crew of USS Seawolf. Every hour Admiral Morgan called and threatened the ambassador, assuring him that American revenge would be swift and devastating. And every time, the reply was the same: “No problem here, Admiral. My government has no problem. Submarine being fixed. You have it back very soon. Crew honored guests of my government. No problem.”

Admiral Morgan could have throttled him.

And all the while, a new plan was circulating through his subconscious. It was a plan driven by his natural flair for the subversive, the stealthy, and the downright underhanded. In his heart, Arnold Morgan loathed the idea of crash forward, kick down the unlocked door, and blast your enemy to pieces.

Admiral Morgan was an ex-nuclear submarine commander and his natural kingdom was the kingdom of the devil, the kingdom of deceit, stealth and cunning. Never in a thousand years would he have bombed Libya, Iraq, nor the Sudan nor Afghanistan, nor even Belgrade. He might have sanctioned a small, devastating sneak attack that left no trace. But more likely he would have sent in a Special Forces team to move quietly around, stalking the enemy, and then pouncing, grabbing and executing the leader and all of his cabinet. Good-bye Muammar, Saddam, Bin Laden, and Slobodan. Arnold Morgan loved Special Forces and the mass confusion they left in their wake.

And now, faced with an apparently insurmountable conundrum, complicated by a priceless American hostage, his thoughts returned to the kingdom of the night, in which brilliantly skilled American operators moved swiftly, silently and to brutal effect. He was not quite ready to articulate it. Yet. But Arnold Morgan, in the deepest canyons of his soul, was planning to spring the American captives right out of that Chinese jail. Every ounce of common sense told him it was probably impossible. But every instinct he had about the capabilities of Special Forces told him there was a chance. Not much of a chance. But one which, in this instance, he would have to take.

He dismissed the possibility of any strategy that would involve direct attack, any attack that would involve direct confrontation, indeed any confrontation whatsoever. Arnold Morgan’s military brain was telling him to isolate the jail in which the prisoners were held. Then have the guys go in, take out the guards and release the American crew.

“Two things, Arnie,” said Joe for the umpteenth time that day. “How do we get a dozen guys in there? How