Then
“Down.” Jack yanked Adele down under the water momentarily, but his strength was insufficient to keep them down with their personal flotation devices. She looked up through the water and saw debris shooting over them. God, if it hit the life raft, what if they were trapped here in the water with sharks? They popped up to the surface and saw that the life raft was still intact.
FOURTEEN
Aside from launching the rest of her USW assets and moving further out to sea, there was little that
The compartment was beginning to smell of too many people too long between showers. Batman surreptitiously checked the odor emitted by his own armpits and winced. No matter — they’d all been there before, and a little body odor wasn’t going to keep anyone from doing their duty.
And he was willing to bet that the guy on the other end of the SINCGAAR line smelled even worse. Yet, there was not even a trace of exhaustion in the calm, confident voice coming over the circuit.
“Nukes — no doubt about it. The Chinese have demanded that we withdraw from the area or they’ll detonate one on the CINCPACFLEET compound. Sir, there’s no doubt in my military mind that they mean it.” There was no panic in the SEAL’s voice, just sheer, gritty determination. “Give us twelve hours, Admiral. I think we can solve this problem.”
Batman swore silently, then picked up the mike. “You have RADIAC equipment?”
“Negative, sir. But we’ve got other intelligence that tells us it’s stashed in a truck. We know where to look, and we know what we’re doing. It’s not like there’s many other options, sir. As long as they’ve got that nuke ground zero at CINCPACFLEET, we’re short on options.”
No mention of the hostages, Batman noted. It gave him a brief chill. But the SEAL officer was right — the probability was not high that anyone located within the compound would survive the conflict, anyway. Odds were that when the Chinese got ready to pull out — and pull out they would eventually — the hostages would be executed. There was little or nothing that they could do about that, but they could lose that battle and still win the war. And the key to that was eliminating the nukes.
Air superiority — that was the other problem, Batman reflected wearily, running one hand over the slightly gritty, greasy skin on his forehead. No matter which way he turned the problem, he didn’t see much of a way around having to engage the Chinese directly over the city. And that meant casualties, lots of casualties, and most of them civilians. There was absolutely no way to evacuate the island, especially not after the demonstration of power involving the airliner as they’d taken possession of the island. No, the people that were on the ground would have to remain there for the duration, although Batman would do his damnedest to try to avoid collateral damage.
“Twelve hours, you say?” Batman asked again.
“Yes, sir. If we’re not clear by then, the admiral may wish to consider a surgical strike on the compound itself. Kill the bomb the hard way.” No trace of fear showed in the SEAL’s voice.
Batman ran the list of hostages’ names through his mind again, recognizing that most of them were old and dear friends. They’d all started out together in the Navy, some in the surface pipeline, some in the air pipeline. But the more senior you got, the fewer peers you had, and he knew each one of those men well. Could he order their death?
Of course he could, just as he ordered pilots into the air every day, knowing that they might not come back. But this had a different feel, that the men on the ground would die without having a chance to fight back. “Twelve hours,” he said finally. “After that, we’re coming in.”
Batman clicked the microphone off and then hauled himself out of the elevated chair that was his in the center of TFCC. “I’ll be in the conference room if you need me,” he said to the TAO. “Get the rest of my staff in there.”
Adele felt the deep, hard ache in her muscles as she wielded the paddle. They’d only been at it for thirty minutes, yet the aircraft carrier seemed no closer than it had when they’d started. The seas were running against them, not a good sign. Yet Jack’s face was a mask of grim determination as he relentlessly dipped, pulled, and swung the paddle back over for another stroke. The muscles in his back bulged, and Adele could tell from the slight angle on the lifeboat’s bow that he was doing more work than she was. She threw herself into paddling with renewed determination.
Aircraft and helicopters from the carrier were filling the air over them. At first she thought that they were the rescue forces, but Jack explained that they were all anti-submarine assets. They might catch the attention of one of the pilots, but rescuing the Simpsons would take a distant second place to tracking down the sub.
Suddenly, Jack stopped paddling. He leaned over the rubberized bow and peered at the water ahead. Then he turned back to Adele, an expression of disbelief on his face. “There’s someone in the water ahead,” he said.
“Another boater?” Adele asked.
Jack turned forward, then motioned at her to keep paddling, picking up his own paddle at the same time. “We have to pick him up,” Jack said. “Of course we do.”
Adele groaned when she saw how far off their course the rescue mission would take them. Every foot lost in the battle against the waves was a foot that would have to be regained later if they were to make safe haven at the aircraft carrier. Yet Jack was right. The international law of good seamanship said that every vessel — and that would include their life raft — was obligated to assist in rescue-at-sea operations. She put too much force into her next stroke, broke the rhythm of the movement of the boat through the water, and silently offered up a prayer and a request for forgiveness.
Within five minutes, they closed on the figure in the water. Adele could see that he was almost unconscious, floating partially on his back and held aloft by a personal flotation device. She slowed her strokes in time with Jack’s as he maneuvered the life raft upwind of the figure. When they were within ten feet, she gasped.
“He’s — he’s Chinese!” she said.
Jack nodded but didn’t answer. She saw his knuckles turn white on the paddle.
And what the hell were they supposed to do with a Chinese? Had he been part of the crew responsible for directing the submarine to attack them? Had he fueled an aircraft that now flew over Hawaii, or loaded the weapons that had killed so many already?
She could tell that Jack was going through the same thought process. Finally, he sighed, and laid his paddle down in the boat. “Hold me steady,” he ordered.
Adele dipped the paddle into the water with delicate sculls, holding position on the man in the water. Jack leaned over the rubberized side and grabbed the man by the back of the personal flotation device. She saw him jerk upward, drawing the man partially out of the water, the corded muscles along his back and arms standing out like iron. With one final, massive heave, he pulled the man into the lifeboat.
