Barracudas. And sends one of them all the way around the Arctic Circle to Petropavlovsk, with a view to making an excursion into U.S. waters, that's the relatively short passage across the northern Pacific past the Aleutian Islands.
'At around the same time, they pop out the bloody decoy and send the bastard around the world. Except no one admits the decoy is floating, right? So when old razormouth starts banging out the refinery, then the power station, the decoy shows up, bold as brass, in Zhanjiang, proving beyond doubt it could not have been the Barracuda, because they know we think there is only one of 'em.
'However, they had two mishaps. One, the decoy 'cuda gets heard off the coast of Ireland. Two, the other 'cuda hits the sushi boat, proving it's not where it ought to be, right?
'So now we are alerted to the possibilities of two Barracudas, not one. Although we can't prove it either way.'
'So far, well summed up,' said Arnold.
'Well, sir, I think we would all agree that whoever came up with that scheme was one clever little bastard. And when you think about it, there was a kind of advantage in it for everyone. The Ruskies needed, and got, the $600 mill, right? The Chinese, in my view, are not the principals in this, but they may have acquired the submarines for someone else. It's dollars to doughnuts if they get caught, there won't be a fucking Chinaman on board that submarine.
'But, a United States with a totally chronic shortage of oil is fantastic for the Chinese. They've picked up a whole bunch of contracts in the Gulf, they own the main southern pipeline out of Kazakstan, right across Iran to their terminus in the Strait of Hormuz. And crude's just hit seventy-five dollars a barrel. Not too bad, right?'
'So, for whom did they buy the submarine? Who could afford it? Had to be a State Government,' Admiral Morgan was pondering.
'In a sense, yes,' said Jimmy Ramshawe. 'But in another sense, no. Because when you're dealing with international terrorism, you've got all kinds of fucking maniacs involved. Not one country. The Islamic Jihad, which works against us and the Israelis, crosses borders. Look at that fucking nutcase Bin Laden, he had all kinds of nations involved — Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, possibly Pakistan, Iran, Iraq, maybe Syria, and even Jordan.
'I think that's what we're up against. Oh, sure, we can ask the Chinese what they did with their two Barracudas, but they will never provide a straight answer. And in the end, they'll say that if there is one, off California right now, it has never been within two thousand miles of China. Why not ask the Russians? And Admiral Rankov will say we don't even own the submarine, why not ask the Chinese?
'And where does that leave us? Nowhere. With options only to nuke Moscow or Beijing, which we are not about to do because we just don't have enough to go on.'
'Well, James,' said Admiral Dixon. 'What's your conclusion?'
'There is only one conclusion, sir. Whoever planned and carried out this program was nothing short of a fucking genius. More clever than any terrorist who's ever lived. That's my conclusion.'
Arnold Morgan was thoughtful.
'I believe you know what I'm thinking, sir.'
'Jimmy, I don't know what you're thinking. But I do know what you and I both are wondering.'
'Yes, sir. Where's that bloody Major Ray Kerman, right?'
'Yes, Jimmy. That's it. Where indeed?'
12
The most powerful electricity generator within a few miles of the darkened city of Los Angeles was continuing steadily away to the southeast, its big turbines idling along at only five knots, 300 feet below the surface. The lights in the submarine were bright, the refrigeration system perfect, the air clean and fresh, the water pure, and the temperature steady.
However, the irony of the situation was somewhat lost on General Ravi and Captain Ben Badr's Barracuda crew. They had made the journey across the Pacific and successfully shattered the electric power system of the two biggest cities on the American West Coast.
They were not, of course, completely aware, but they had left both San Francisco and Los Angeles in chaotic, dangerous darkness, with schools and shops closed, hospitals desperate, and thousands of tons of food rotting without refrigeration. All while Ravi and Ben casually accepted the benefits of their own private nuclear power cell, which, on its own, could have cheerfully restored full electricity to the entire district of Hollywood, and indeed most of Northwest Los Angeles, without missing a beat.
The navigation officer had them at 28.151 N, 117.00' W, eighty miles southeast of Guadalupe Island, 130 miles off the coast of Mexico. Thus far, they had found no need to avoid or in any way change course for searching U.S. warships or patrol aircraft. Their speed had been five knots all the way, and it was still five knots, leaving no telltale pattern on the surface.
There were, of course, several U.S. Navy frigates and three Los Angeles Class submarines working off San Diego, listening for the engine beat of a rogue foreign submarine. And a couple of them had ventured south into international waters, but the ocean was too vast, and the Barracuda too slow for a positive detection, and both hunters and quarry knew it.
Captain Badr had no intention of altering his plans, his direction, or his speed for three weeks. And he and Ravi sat in the Control Room, moving slowly southeast, gleefully going over the plan of escape masterminded for them by the Chinese.
General Rashood had collected the instructions from the timed safe on board, way back in the Gulf of Alaska. And with Ben Badr, he had made a cursory study of the meticulous orders drafted by the Intelligence Command Center in Shanghai.
For the moment, it was simple to follow. Maintain submerged course one-three-five… speed five… then periscope depth into the Gulf of Panama. Surface the submarine 08.20' North, 78.30' West… proceed on surface maximum speed to Panama's Pacific Anchorage Expansion… course three-six-zero to latitude 08.51'North, 78.30' West-depth ten fathoms — for rendezvous with PLAN patrol boat 1330,11 April 2008…
Well, it would be one hell of a long way at this slow speed to the Gulf of Panama, 3,000 miles and about twenty-six days, but at least they knew where they were going. Like everyone involved, the Chinese had a plain desire for the utmost secrecy. In fact, the Chinese had a greater desire than anyone: If anyone even suspected they had been behind the monstrous attacks on the American mainland, that was very probably World War III.
Silence, thy name is Zhang Yushu.
It was with obvious satisfaction that General Rashood and Captain Badr now contemplated the escape route that lay before them. Both men knew the entire operation was predicated on the fact that China now controlled the Panama Canal, to the horror of the U.S. military, and to the embarrassment of the more astute Democrats who somehow had allowed their party to be represented in the White House by the former Governor of Arkansas.
Nonetheless, when the United States finally handed over the Canal Zone to the Panamanian Government in 1999, they gave away a great deal more than anyone had bargained for. Because the wily leftist rulers of that sweltering, tropical isthmus at the southern end of Central America, immediately began negotiations with the equally wily rulers of Communist China.
As a moneymaking scheme, this was a golden goose for the cash-strapped Panamanians. At either end of the Canal was a huge U.S. Naval dockyard/city: Cristobal on the port side of the Atlantic entrance, bordering the primitive and unsafe city of Col6n; and Balboa on the port side of the Pacific exit, bordering Panama City. These two massive U.S. strongholds dominated and controlled the canal for almost a century.
In addition, the sprawling Rodman Naval Base, exactly opposite Balboa Harbor, formed an impregnable U.S. choke point. Since 1914, ships had transited the Panama Canal only when the United States authorities issued clearance, which was right and proper, since the United States built the gigantic structure in the first place, supplied the manpower, and bound the great concrete walls together with New York cement.
Without that Yankeee know-how, there would never have been a Panama Canal. It is, to this day, regarded
