“A helicopter,” Ching said, “heading from sea toward land.”
“It didn’t show up on the sensors,” the officer said. “Are you sure you saw it through the fog?”
“Yes,” Ching said loudly, “I saw it.”
He walked over to the screen and stared at the radar returns.
“What’s happening?” he asked a few seconds later.
The electronics officer was short and slim. He looked like a jockey in a fancy uniform. His hair was jet black and straight and his eyes brown-edged with bloodshot red from staring at the radar.
“Sir,” he said finally, “I’m not sure. What you see has been happening intermittently since we began the chase. One second we seem to get a clear return, then it jumps to the other side of the screen like it’s a video game playing hide-and-seek.”
“The image is not even the correct size,” Captain Ching noted.
“It grows, then diminishes to a pinprick,” the officer said. “Then jumps across the screen.”
Ching stared out the window again; they were drawing closer to the
“I can detect that,” the officer said.
“Then what is it?” Ching asked.
The officer thought for a minute. “I read in a translated science journal about an experimental system an American engineer was building. Instead of making objects disappear, as with stealth, or using extra signals, as on most jamming equipment, this system has a computer that takes in all the signals from our hull and reforms them into different shapes and strengths.”
“So this system can make them appear or disappear as they decide?” Ching said incredulously.
“That’s about it, sir,” the officer said.
“Well,” Ching said finally, “there’s no way an old rust bucket has anything like that on board.”
“Well, let’s hope not, sir,” the electronics officer said.
“Why’s that?” Ching asked.
“Because the article also stated that by changing the object dimensions, they can increase the targeting potential.”
“Which means?”
“That if the frigate to the rear or the fast-attack corvette coming up quick on our stern fires anything other than bullets, and they have a system like this, they could redirect the fire to us.”
“Chinese missiles used to sink Chinese ships?”
“Exactly.”
“RAMMING and jamming,” Eric Stone shouted. Lincoln was on the far side of the control room at the primary fire control station. He was running a quick diagnostic check on the missile battery. He stared intently at the bar graphs as they filled the computer screen.
“Mr. Chairman, I’m good to go,” he shouted toward Cabrillo a few seconds later.
Cabrillo turned to Hanley. “Here’s the deal as I see it. The entire thrust of this operation was the retrieval of the Golden Buddha. We have it, but it’s still inside the circle of Chinese influence. Our first priority must be to get our teams and the Golden Buddha safely back on the
“I hate to say it, Juan,” Hanley said, “but I wish the weather wasn’t clearing.”
“A wasted wish, but I agree,” Cabrillo said.
“We don’t know what the navy is sending,” Hanley noted, “but we can safely assume there won’t be surface ships involved—our sensors don’t detect any other vessels for a hundred miles.”
“They launched cruise missiles from the Persian Gulf into downtown Baghdad,” Cabrillo said, “so we can assume either missile or aircraft support.”
“The enemy has rockets on the fast-attack corvette, and some long guns that can fire high-explosive rounds, plus the frigate should have some Chinese-made cruise-type missiles.”
“They any good?” Cabrillo asked.
“Not as accurate as ours,” Hanley admitted, “but they can sink a ship.”
“The hydrofoil?”
“Deck-mounted machine guns only,” Hanley said.
“And the Zodiacs are being pursued by harbor patrol boats?”
“Correct,” Hanley said. “A pair of forty-six-foot aluminum cruisers with diesel power. They each have a single bow-mounted machine gun.”
“Radios?”
“Nothing special,” Hanley said.
“So even if we took out the harbor boats,” Cabrillo said, “the Zodiacs would still need to pass the trio of vessels on our tail.”
“I’m afraid so,” Hanley agreed.
