Tiger's Claw: A Novel

responded and said they will remain clear but stand by in case they’re needed.”

Finally, Sheridan thought, some cooperation and a friendly warship to help out. He would’ve preferred it to be an American frigate, but any friendly help would be appreciated. “Very good. What’s the frigate’s position?”

“Thirty miles southeast of the southern search box. About two hours’ steaming time.”

“Request that they move closer to the box but remain clear for the time being, and pass along my . . .”

“Bridge, Tactical, lost contact with the Eagle Eye!” Fells interjected, using the direct “CALL” function of the intercom to interrupt all other communications.

Sheridan swore aloud. “Shit! What the hell happened, Ed?”

“Don’t know, sir. No malfunction annunciations. The thing just went dark.”

“Crap,” Sheridan muttered. All they had in the southern search box was the Global Hawk now. On the radio, he spoke, “Mohawk Zero-One, how’s it going?”

“Swimmer’s in the water,” Coffey replied. A moment later: “Sir, swimmer says the person in the water is alive! He’s busted up very badly and may not survive the return flight, but right now he’s breathing!”

“Sweet Jesus, that’s incredible!” Sheridan said. “Head back to the barn at best speed as soon as your swimmer’s aboard.”

“About five more minutes, sir.”

“Call sick bay, tell them we have a survivor inbound, ETE about an hour,” Sheridan said to the officer of the deck. “I want this guy alive.” He switched channels on the telephone. “Tactical, Bridge, Ed, any ideas on what the hell happened to the Eagle Eye?”

“None, sir,” Fells replied. “But from the initial reports I read about the P-8 incident, they reported the same thing: sudden loss of contact, no indications of a malfunction. It’s possible that whatever hit the Poseidon hit the Eagle Eye too.”

“Hit it? Like what? A missile, fired from a sub?”

“Possible, but unless the missile was some kind of a magical silver bullet, the aircraft would have reported multiple malfunctions before losing contact—engine fire, electrical, hydraulics, so on,” Fells said. “Whatever hit the P-8 and the Eagle Eye shut them down in the blink of an eye, before any malfunctions could be reported.”

“Mohawk One, Zero-One is RTB,” Coffey radioed.

Thank God, Sheridan breathed. With first the Poseidon gone and now the Eagle Eye gone but hopefully automatically on its way back, the South China Sea suddenly felt like a very dangerous place, and the quicker he got his last air asset back on the deck, the better. “You got the Jayhawk on radar, Ed?”

“Affirmative, sir,” Fells reported. “He’s doing a hundred knots, and his fuel reserves look good.”

SOUTH SEA FLEET HEADQUARTERS, ZHANJIANG, PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA

THAT SAME TIME

“Admiral Chen of the Zhenyuan is on the phone, sir.”

Admiral Zhen picked up the telephone. “Go ahead, Admiral Chen.”

“Sir, radar reports another aircraft, possibly a patrol helicopter, heading north away from the search area,” Chen said. “It was observed hovering for several minutes in an area just north of the search box.”

“A second search helicopter?”

“The high-endurance American cutters embark two rotary-wing search aircraft, sir, one manned and one unmanned,” Chen said. “The unmanned aircraft has been neutralized, but the second one is heading north at high speed.”

Heading back to its mothership, Zhen thought. And if it was hovering, it means it could have found something—and if that something could implicate China in the downing of the American search plane, his mission would have failed.

“Bring down that second patrol helicopter with Wusheng Leiting, Admiral Chen,” Zhen said. “I do not want that helicopter to return to the Coast Guard vessel.”

“Stand by, sir,” Chen said. Zhen’s anger rose as the seconds ticked by. Finally, Chen reported: “Sir, the helicopter is out of range of Silent Thunder.”

“Then order one of your screening vessels to shoot it down.”

Another maddening pause; this time, Zhen anticipated the reply: “Sir, we have no destroyers or frigates in position.”

“Then launch the alert fighter, Chen,” Admiral Zhen said. “Shoot down that helicopter.”

“Repeat that last, sir?” Chen asked in a high, squeaky voice, obviously not expecting that order whatsoever.

“That is the second time you questioned an order,” Zhen said. “I repeat, shoot down that damned helicopter! I do not want that helicopter to get back aboard that cutter! Acknowledge my order!”

“But sir . . . sir, none of our pilots are night carrier landing qualified, sir,” Chen said.

“What did you say, Chen?” Zhen thundered.

“Sir, this was a shakedown cruise for the deck handlers and propulsion section crews, not for night flight operations. Our pilots are day carrier landing qualified only!”

“I do not want excuses, Chen!” Zhen shouted. “Get a fighter and your best pilot airborne now. I do not care if he has to recover on a land base or if he has to ditch, but I want him airborne now!”

ABOARD THE PEOPLE’S LIBERATION ARMY NAVY CARRIER ZHENYUAN

THAT SAME TIME

“Acknowledged, sir,” Admiral Chen responded, but the secure connection had already been broken. He immediately selected the telephone channel for carrier flight operations.

“Flight operations duty officer Lieutenant Wu, sir.”

“Captain Zhang, immediately.”

“Shi de, xiansheng,” the duty officer replied. A few moments later: “Hai Jun Shang Xiao Zhang, sir.”

“Captain Zhang, launch the alert fighter,” Chen said. “Vector the pilot to an American helicopter flying north. I want it shot down immediately.”

“Dui-bu-qi, xiansheng?” Zhang replied in disbelief.

“Immediately, Captain,” Chen said in a completely toneless, almost dead voice.

“Sir . . . Bolin . . .” Zhang said. He was one of the few junior officers on the entire vessel—in the entire fleet—allowed to call the admiral by his first name; they had known each other for years. “Are you damned sure you want to do this?”

“I have orders directly from South Sea Fleet headquarters, Peiyan,” Chen said in a low voice. “Directly from Admiral Zhen.”

“But you are still the captain of the Zhenyuan battle group, Bolin,” Zhang said. “You took a chance by complying with that order to shoot down the American patrol plane if it appeared it would not crash. I think you can escape retribution for that. But shooting down an unarmed patrol helicopter?”

“I have my orders, Peiyan.”

“I say again, you are the commanding officer of this entire battle group, Bolin,” Zhang said. “You have the ultimate authority and responsibility to refuse any order that might endanger your men or your vessels. Shooting down that helicopter will certainly result in immediate American counterattack on this battle group. Their carrier battle group will be within striking range in just a few hours!”

Chen hesitated for several moments, scanning the bridge and noting the duty officer and a few of the