U.S.S. Seawolf

“But if we want to have a look around, we have to go all the way to the surface?”

“Yessir. ’Fraid so.”

“Well, we better not do that, Tom, in case that fucking destroyer has another whack at us.”

“We sure hadn’t.”

“I guess if push came to shove, we could just go ahead and sink the bastard,” said Judd, whose proximity to the free-wheeling warriors of SPECWARCOM had plainly had a profound impact on his psyche.

Commander Wheaton smiled grimly and replied, “Well, sir, we have been fired upon, so it would be self- defense, if anyone questioned us.”

“Yes, it would. But there’s something damned odd about this. The frigates should have frightened the Chinks away. But they weren’t frightened, they blew our sail away without even thinking about it. Didn’t give a rat’s ass for the frigates.”

“Hmmmmm,” pondered Captain Crocker. “We stick our head out of the water, they’ll blow the bastard off.”

“Looks that way, sir. And we can’t fire at them. We’re still just in Chinese territorial waters, and they have a right to want us out. Anyway, you know how damned tricky it is to fire torpedoes in water this shallow. Goddamned things will probably go deep right out of the tube and then hit the bottom.

“Fact is, we gotta get back to the carrier. But the damned racket up in the sail is making our bow sonar next to useless. We need a guide dog. And the only one we got right now is Kaufman.”

Tom moved over to the underwater telephone and picked up the handset.

“Kaufman, this is Greenville. Execute Plan Kibbec Five. Read back. Over.”

Slightly to his surprise, Kaufman came straight back, faintly, but only slightly distorted: “Greenville, this is Kaufman. Roger. I read back. Execute Plan Kibbec Five. Out.”

Tom replaced the handset. “Beautiful. We’re in business.”

“Huh?” said Judd. “What’s up?”

“It’s a DEVGRU plan — not yet for general use, but by chance Carl Sharpe and I were working on it a few weeks back. It’s just a way of getting an SSN in from the deep field, in a big hurry, without radio comms.”

“Oh, right. I gottit…er…at least I think I have…er…how?”

“No sweat. Kaufman switches on her high-power active sonar in a certain pattern, so we know it IS Kaufman—Pattern Five — and we just home in on her, treat her like she’s some kinda underwater lighthouse. Get underneath and stay there. Then we got full comms, through her. Got ourselves a guide dog. Better still, he’s a guide dog who’ll run interference for us.”

Ten minutes later, Tom Wheaton had driven Greenville underneath Kaufman. And they both headed out at 12 knots. The two CO’s talked easily on the UWT. The new guidance plan was in place, but Commander Sharpe was still concerned about the proximity of the Chinese destroyer. “She closed to within a mile, and then stood off, just watching, appeared to show no interest in the frigates…as if she was waiting for you to reappear.”

“Well, we’ll give ’em a damned long wait, right, Carl?”

“That’s what we’re gonna do. This is going to work.”

And so they set off, Reuben James, two miles astern of Kaufman and a half mile astern of Xiangtan, heading home to the carrier group.

Kaufman kept station above Greenville, and its boatload of SEALs, right underneath. The distance to the Ronald Reagan was some 200 miles, but Admiral Barry had the 100,000-tonner in retreat, heading farther east.

If Xiangtan was determined to continue firing on the Americans, the carrier must be removed from harm’s way. Never, as they say in the trade, lose your “mission critical”—especially if it is currently home to a private air force of 84 fighter-attack bombers and a billion gallons of fuel. The carrier makes the difference. It represents the frontline muscle of American naval power. If it really should come down to a real shooting war, or even a full-scale battle, the Ronald Reagan wins it, hands down, with whatever means are necessary. The U.S. Navy would regard the early loss of the “mission critical” as negligent in the extreme. Admirals commanding the CVBG are apt to take no chances. Which was why the Ronald Reagan was essentially on the move.

And it was wise to do so. In the CIC of Kaufman, the CO could see the Chinese destroyer on radar, but 10 miles astern was another contact on precisely the same course, but catching them up. It was most probably Chinese, plainly a second warship backing up whatever the destroyer’s ultimate task was.

And inside the communications room of Xiangtan there were extraordinary exchanges taking place. Colonel Lee was far too old a commander to be certain he had sunk the Greenville. He had watched the shells go in, and so far as he could tell only one had hit, deep in the sail. He could not tell whether one had penetrated the pressure hull, but he thought not. If it had, he had not observed it. And he knew that Greenville had been in the process of diving at the very moment he had ordered his gun into action.

In his opinion, the American submarine was very much alive. They had twice picked up UWT transmissions — always a solid indicator of the presence of a submarine. But the “noisemaker” Kaufman was towing, designed to confuse the life out of all acoustics, was making such a buzz that passive sonar detection of Greenville was impossible. And active contact was at best tenuous through the swirling wake of the frigate.

Colonel Lee thought the submarine must be heading out into the open ocean, and feared that she might stay underwater for days. All he could hope was that the damage might force her to the surface. He could not get close enough to depth-charge her because of the Kaufman. And they were already clear of Chinese waters, where the law was no longer on his side.

As such, he opened up the line to Southern Fleet Command, and once more reported his actions to Admiral Zu Jicai. He stressed that he could not recommend further pursuit, since he was powerless under the present circumstances to take any measures against Greenville—“Not until she returns to the surface.”

Admiral Zu asked him to remain on the line while he spoke again to the Commander-in-Chief. But when Colonel Lee next heard a voice on the line, it was not the calm, measured tones of his immediate superior. It was the raging voice of the C-in-C himself. And, as voices go, this one was (a) loud, (b) furious, and (c) owned by a man who had apparently lost it.

“HAVE YOU GONE MAD, LEE? ANSWER ME THAT!” screamed Admiral Zhang. “YOU MUST HAVE GONE MAD. THERE CAN BE NO OTHER EXCUSE FOR YOUR CONDUCT. MY ORDERS WERE CLEAR — SINK THE AMERICAN SUBMARINE. NOT GO AND PUT A DENT IN ITS HULL. SINK IT. SINK IT. THAT’S WHAT I SAID. AND YOU HAD THE MOST POWERFUL DESTROYER IN THE NAVY TO DO IT. I REPEAT, LEE — HAVE YOU GONE MAD?”

Colonel Lee kept his cool. “Sir, I do not believe I have lost my senses. But the submarine was in the process of diving when we first saw her. The only target we had was her sail, which we hit with a one-hundred-fifty- seven-millimeter shell. Also, she is guarded by two guided missile frigates.”

“I DON’t CARE IF SHE’s GUARDED BY THE ENTIRE UNITED STATES NAVY,” raged the C-in-C. “I ORDERED HER TO BE SUNK AND MY ORDERS WERE NOT CARRIED OUT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?”

“Yessir.”

“WELL, WHY WERE THEY NOT CARRIED OUT?”

“Because it was impossible, sir. We were only able to see her for less than a minute, and we were eight miles away.”

“AND WHERE IS THE SUBMARINE NOW?” he yelled.

“Under the water, sir. Following one of the frigates. I presume back to the American carrier.”

“PRESUME NOTHING!” roared Zhang. “NOTHING! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

“Yessir.”

And now the C-in-C spoke in more measured tones for the first time. “Colonel Lee. You are the most senior surface ship commanding officer in the Navy. Your record until today was exemplary. And because of that I am