U.S.S. Seawolf

“First, why did they take so long to issue a press statement — they could have done something last Wednesday. And why Saturday night, so late? That’s unusual. There are few people in the Pentagon on Friday night at nine-thirty, and even fewer in the newspaper offices. Why not issue it on Friday afternoon, when there are people everywhere? Or even save it until Monday morning? No, Jicai. This was deliberate. Very curious.

“Second, the New York paper mentions a personal word of thanks to me from the Chief of U.S. Naval Operations. Remember, this press release was written on Friday. It is now Sunday, and I have received no word of thanks from anybody. That makes it a lie.

“Third, I notice they do not mention Canton, as they would call the city. Why not? It’s almost as if they do not want their own newspapers to be aware of the whole truth. Why not say where Seawolf is? Maybe they do not want American journalists snooping around the Navy base in Guangzhou and finding out there is high security. If this press release were true, if they really believed there was cooperation, they would surely encourage their own reporters to come to Canton and see our two great nations working together to repair the submarine. Excellent public relations, excellent for them and for us. Excellent for future trade.

“I smell a very large rat, my Jicai. And he’s not even due here for two years.”

Admiral Zu smiled. “Are you sure you are not being a little too suspicious, Yushu? Perhaps they really do believe us, and are just wishing to remain our friends.”

“I wish that were so, Jicai. And I agree there is much for the Americans and the Chinese to share. Unfortunately, I must quote one of our oldest proverbs to you: tongchuang yimeng…to sleep in the same bed, but to have different dreams.”

1100 (local). Sunday, July 9.

The White House.

Admiral Morgan and Colonel Frank Hart were deep in conference, and had been since 0800. Three times the admiral had called his old office at the ultrasecret National Security Agency at Fort Meade, Maryland, to inquire if there was any news on the whereabouts of the crew of Seawolf. But the agency had little to add. All anyone knew was that the prisoners had all been removed from the Canton jail and been taken to the naval base. Since no warship had been observed anywhere on the Pearl River, nor even moving across the Delta, the conclusion was that the men were still on the base, though precisely where was a mystery. The satellites were transmitting many excellent images, but the area seemed quiet and there did not appear to be a building that would hide more than 100 newly arrived prisoners.

It was the CIA that received the first break. Jake Raeburn from the Far Eastern Desk came through at 1105. He’d just heard from his field officer in Canton. Their man inside the dockyard had reported the prisoners had left, sometime on Saturday evening. No one knew their destination, but their information was they had headed downstream toward the Delta, under heavy guard, in a civilian ferryboat. So far as the local CIA man could ascertain, there were no American personnel left at the base. “He does have a report the evening ferry trip down the river for tourists had been canceled, so it sounds as if the Navy may have commandeered it.”

Admiral Morgan was grateful and asked Jake to keep Fort Meade posted, and to “tell ’em to beef up overhead surveillance along that stretch of the Chinese coast.”

To Colonel Hart he said, “We have to find them, Frank. We have to locate these guys in the next forty-eight hours, and right now I’m doing everything I can to throw the Chinese off the scent, make ’em think we believe their goodwill messages and have no intention of making any kind of an aggressive move.”

“Yessir. I read the stuff thoroughly. And so far only one thing bothers me…you know, where the press release says there was a personal message sent from Joe Mulligan direct to Zhang Yushu…did you actually send that message?”

“Hell, no.”

“I think you should.”

“Why?”

“Because that statement of courtesy, one senior naval commander to another, falls into the category of politeness and respect. The Chinese specialize in offering compliments, polite, restrained and sometimes obsequious. And they have no problem with insincerity. In fact, that’s a national pastime. But I sense that to mention a courtesy, and then deliberately not make it, might be seen as an insult or loss of face. They are very tricky about that, and I’d bet you anything Admiral Zhang will want to know if that courteous message from the White House actually arrived.

“If he’s a very suspicious type, he’ll be mystified at its nonarrival, and may even begin to doubt the validity of the whole thing. Send it and hopefully he’ll continue to think we’re all soft.”

Arnold Morgan knew sense when he heard it, and he said instantly, “Good call, Frank. I’ll jump right on it… KATHY!! NOTEBOOK!”

Ms. O’Brien appeared in a major hurry.

“Okay…take this down, will you? ‘Admiral Joseph Mulligan, Chief of United States Naval Operations, presents his compliments to the High Command of the People’s Liberation Army/Navy, and wishes to thank Admiral Zhang Yushu, Commander-in-Chief of PLAN, for his generosity in assisting the U.S. submarine Seawolf in her time of need. Please be assured that the U.S. Navy will pay for all costs incurred in the repairs, and be assured that if we are ever called upon to offer similar help to one of your ships, we will not hesitate to do so. Again, my thanks and best wishes. Admiral Joseph Mulligan, the Pentagon, Washington, D.C., USA.’

“Right, Kathy, call Joe’s office and have them dispatch that electronically directly to the PLAN Headquarters in Beijing…tell ’em they don’t need to bother Joe. It’s my orders, direct from the President. Tell ’em to do it NOW. If not sooner.”

“Yessir.” Kathy left.

“Okay, Frank…now, where do we stand?”

Just then the phone rang, the admiral’s secure line from Fort Meade, and the conversation was brief.

“You did? Uh-huh…uh-huh…gotta be right. We don’t know when it sailed, right? No…guess not. Okay…keep me posted.”

The admiral banged down the phone. No good-byes today. No courtesies, except to Yushu.

“They think they picked up the ferry, Frank. Caught it on the overheads making its way back up the Pearl River around twenty-one hundred local.”

“Might be significant, might not,” replied the ex-London naval attache. “Because right here, in these Canton guidebooks you gave me, I’m showing an evening ferry trip downriver and back by twenty-two hundred. That could be just the regular tourist voyage.”

“Hell, Frank. I forgot to mention it. That ferryboat trip was canceled at short notice.”

“Then we just located the transport at least for our guys, right?”

“Right. And now we can get some kind of a handle on the distance — like the ferry probably took off at around twenty hundred. They plainly wanted it before twenty-two hundred and took possession around eighteen hundred…here’s the ferry terminal…here’s the Navy yard…it’s only a couple of miles.”

“And if the damn thing got back by twenty-two hundred Sunday, that means its journey took twenty-six hours,” added Admiral Morgan. “Give ’em a couple of hours on station, to disembark the crew and refuel, and we’re looking possibly at twelve hours out and twelve hours back…how fast do ferryboats travel?”

“On reasonably flat water, probably better than twelve, slower than twenty…”

“Well, if we settle for say fourteen…because they probably got as far as the ocean where they run into a bit of chop…that means they took the guys somewhere fourteen times twelve away…what’s that…one hundred and sixty-eight miles?”

“The merit of that number is not its accuracy, sir,” said Colonel Hart. “It’s the knowledge that they could not have gone a whole lot farther than that. The weakness of the number is that the ferry may have stayed on station a lot longer, maybe allowing the Chinese officers to dine aboard, maybe using it as an office. And of course we don’t know which way it went when it reached the bottom of the Delta. It could’ve gone east, right around Hong Kong, and then up the coast or even to an island. Alternatively, it could have gone west…maybe as far as these two little islands right here. What are they called?…Shangchuan Dao and Xiachuan Dao…that’s about the limit of the ferry’s range, given the twenty-six-hour envelope for the whole journey.”

“Fact is, they could have pulled in anywhere along that coastline…”

“Yessir. Bat I’d say they at least reached the mouth of the Delta and went out into the sea, one way or