The Shark Mutiny

of the carrier, undetected by the outriding nuclear submarine. The Viking picked it up and signaled the flag. Admiral Holt briefly changed course, and as he did so, Guangjin activated D-2. Just a transient, seven-second transmission, which had the effect of pushing the carrier toward the waters south of the tiny island chain, to Ishigaki, where the water was deep, and which, by a grand design hatched in distant Zhanjiang, lay neatly in two outer squares of Lt. Commander Guangjin’s grid.

Admiral Holt was forced to turn north again, and he reasoned that the Kilo force, however many, was now to his left and right, but falling astern. If they wanted to get at his carrier, they’d have to transit northwest through the massive ASW barrier he’d set up. The decoy Kilo-buoys were indeed on either side of him, but the wily Zhang had stationed two real Kilos just 30 miles ahead of the CVBG. And he’d done it seven days ago.

And now they were almost stationary, transmitting nothing, preparing to launch a copybook attack on the U.S. carrier, identical to that of Commander Ben Adnam when he destroyed the Nimitz-Class carrier USS Thomas Jefferson in the Arabian Sea five years previously.

They had chased and pursued nothing. They had just waited, silently, for the prime moment to fire, when Lt. Commander Guangjin’s ingenious invention had done its work. Unlike Ben Adnam they had not needed to assess the wind and the carrier’s time of approach. The very occasional transmissions from the floating electronic buoys had “herded” Big John into the appointed place like so many sheepdogs.

The Chinese submarines were in there, in 600 feet of water, the Kilo-Class hulls 366 and 367, jet-black 3,000 -ton diesel-electrics built in Russia’s Admiralty Yard at Saint Petersburg. They were each armed with 18 TEST 71/96 wire-guided passive-active torpedoes, homing at 40 knots to 15 kilometers. But the Chinese COs would fire their two torpedoes, with their 205kg nonnuclear warheads, from a lot closer than that.

But Admiral Zhang was not out to create world havoc and mass destruction. He just sought, quietly, to cripple the great U.S. warship, despite all the difficulties that would involve.

And at 2100 that Monday evening, his underwater commanders drew a bead on Big John.

Same time (0800 local, Monday).

The White House.

Everything about the goddamned Chinese baffled Arnold Morgan. He had no idea why they would have wanted to infuriate the entire Western world, not to mention much of the Eastern world, by assisting the goddamned towelheads in mining the Strait of Hormuz.

Maybe just for money. Maybe they really thought they could make a huge financial killing by selling their oil from Khazakhstan at the massive world prices that would follow the blockade of the Gulf of Iran.

Maybe. But maybe not. It made some sense to the President’s National Security Adviser. But not enough. Well, the USA had slammed back hard, as China must have known they might. And no one had complained to anyone. Certainly the USA knew there was no point remonstrating with the Chinese over the minefield, because they would say nothing. Equally the Chinese had said nothing to anyone about the destruction of the oil refinery.

Admiral Morgan knew he was not going to receive any answers to anything. Which was why he had summarily requested the presence of the Chinese ambassador to Washington, the urbane Ling Guofeng. Arnold might not be getting any answers, but he was about to deliver one or two truths.

Kathy O’Brien politely ushered the ambassador into the main office at 0815. The two men knew each other, of course, but it was always a cool relationship. The Admiral had passed one or two withering broadsides across the bow of the Chinese ship of state in the past few years, and Ling Guofeng had frequently been obliged to keep his head well down.

In another life, they might actually have been friends. Both of them knew more about the world than was good for anyone. And both of them knew implicitly where their loyalties were. Arnold Morgan, a natural aggressor, was constantly issuing warnings, making threats and, occasionally, carrying them out. The veteran Ambassador Ling, in his role as China’s chief appeaser in Washington, was thus obliged to absorb a substantial amount of grief from the Admiral. But the diplomat from Shanghai knew how to roll with the punches.

“Good morning, Admiral,” he said, bowing. “What a very kind invitation. It’s been too long.”

Arnold Morgan raised his eyes heavenward…Too long! Never mind the blown-up tankers, never mind the minefield, the world oil crisis, Japan almost going bankrupt because of it. Never mind that the blasted refinery’s still spouting flames one hundred feet into the air…. Will someone ever save me from this Oriental bullshit?…“Too long,” he says. Jesus Christ.

“Ambassador, the pleasure is, as always, mine,” replied the Admiral. “Please sit down. I have ordered a pot of Lapsang Suchong, your favorite China tea, I believe — at least your favorite in this country.”

“Now that is very kind of you, and I hope it will smooth our way during our discussions.”

And Arnold slyly congratulated himself on Kathy’s call to Ling’s secretary on Friday afternoon to establish the subtleties of the ambassador’s tastes. He had no recollection that Kathy had made the call without even asking him.

Anyway, the tea was delivered and poured by a polite and attentive waiter, and Arnold Morgan stepped up to the plate.

“Ambassador, there is much that cannot be said at this discussion — much, possibly, that never will be said. I have asked you here because I believe that you and I understand each other.”

“I think and hope that we do,” replied Ling in his impeccable English accent.

“Well, let me begin by saying that we are very well aware of China’s complicity in the placing of the minefield in the Strait of Hormuz.”

“Oh, really?” replied Ling. “I have not been so informed.”

“And I guess, if I wanted to, I could inform you myself of the origin of the mines, the date they left Moscow, the times of the refueling stops for the Andropov freighter that delivered them, and the date the PLAN assisted the Iranians in laying the fields.”

Ambassador Ling said nothing, betrayed nothing, not a flicker of understanding — the precise way all great ambassadors are supposed to operate under this kind of pressure in a foreign capital.

“But there is no need for me to do so, since we both understand the…er…rather heated game we are playing. But I would like to mention the fire that is still raging in the strait at the Chinese refinery. That, ambassador, represents the collective wrath of the entire industrial world. So I would warn you about the danger of writing it off as an accident and blithely rebuilding it.”

“Am I hearing an admission that the United States of America actually attacked and destroyed the ten-billion-dollar Chinese refinery in the strait?”

“No more than I am hearing an admission that China purchased hundreds of sea mines at vast expense from Moscow, and then tried to shut down the principal power supply of every oil-consuming country in the world. Damn nearly all of them, that is.”

Ambassador Ling said nothing.

And Admiral Morgan continued: “And so, my good friend, Guofeng, I would like to conclude with this piece of advice for you and your government. In our opinion, and in the opinion of all our allies, you have committed a crime of vast proportions in the Strait of Hormuz. And it is a crime that must not be repeated. It is therefore my rather sad duty to advise you”—and here his voice rose to its familiar growling quality—“to stay the fuck out of the Middle East oil routes.”

“And if we should insist on our right to trade in any international waters?”

“You would find no objection from us, because your ships are welcome to visit us at any time. But if you continue to put Chinese warships anywhere near the north reaches of the Arabian Sea, inside the Strait of Hormuz or indeed in the Gulf of Iran, we shall have no hesitation if it comes to sinking them. Your nation has committed a terrible crime, for reasons best known to your masters in Beijing. But the rest of the world will not permit you the leeway to repeat that crime. Ling, old buddy, your Navy is on its way right back to the South China Sea.”

“I shall indeed report your views to my government. But do I have your permission to inform them that the United States willfully destroyed the Chinese refinery?”

“No, Ambassador. You do not. You may tell them that the elimination of the refinery was in your opinion an act of retribution against your government for crimes committed by China in the strait. You may also say that the U.S. government was not unsupportive of the action against the Chinese oil. But as to who perpetrated the destruction, that may never be known. But if I had to guess, I’d say you should look to some of those Arabs who are