Red Shark

Ellsworth, his face florid, his mood dark, said, “What the hell do you call the Chinese sub’s attack on Scott? And the NKs and their warheads headed for the U.S.? What would you call that?”

“Gentlemen,” said the president, “let’s deal with the situation Scott is facing. Karl, can you contact him, find out what’s happening out there so that in the event, we can draft an appropriate response to the Chinese?”

“Yes, sir, I can.”

“Now, in your earlier briefing, Karl, you said our special-ops group was in Davao.”

“Colonel Jefferson’s with the unit.”

“And have they located the terrorist base?”

“As of”—he looked at his wristwatch—“an hour ago they’d not made contact.”

“As soon as they do, you let me know.”

“Yes, sir, of course I will.”

The president looked up as an aide silently slipped into the Oval Office with a video reader board, a device used by the White House to display super-encrypted Purple messages.

“Pardon me, Mr. President,” she said. “I have a priority from SRO for General Radford.”

“Let me see that, Karen.” Radford twisted around and took the flat-screen board. He keyed in his personal code and read the message.

The president saw Radford’s eyebrows twitch up, then fall and meet in the furrow over his nose.

“Mr. President, satellite imagery confirms that the PLAN Kilo President Yang referred to was sunk, we think, by a torpedo fired from one of our submarines.”

The president jammed a thumb and forefinger deep into the corners of both eyes. “The Reno.”

“Yes, sir.”

Park stared at the obsolete Russian-made ZEVS communication equipment installed in the Red Shark’s control room. The system had been designed originally for Russian submarines to receive burst transmissions from satellites via extremely high frequencies. The DPRK had purchased surplus units, only to find that the sophisticated, land-based, low-frequency antenna array the ZEVS system required had proved difficult to install and maintain in North Korea’s mountainous terrain.

Park debated whether or not to respond to the call from Nam’po. The ZEVS signal was a summons to come up to periscope depth and receive a coded burst transmission from an old Russian Molniya-3 satellite for which the DPRK paid Moscow a usage fee. Unlike the U.S. sub that used the U.S. RDT system, which blasted data from space through deep water at a blinding rate, the Red Shark would have to loiter near the surface, vulnerable to detection, to receive the ZEVS burst.

The first officer waited for Park’s order to come to periscope depth and poke a mast up. Instead a morose Park, his gaze planted on the deck, said, “I think our ZEVS has just malfunctioned. Can it be repaired?”

The first officer understood what Park intended to do. “Why, yes, Captain, it has malfunctioned.”

“Will it take more than a day to repair?”

“I’m afraid so, Captain.”

“Too bad. See what you can do.”

“At once, sir.”

Park looked up to examine the sonar contacts displayed on the monitors, his finger tracing their tone lines. None were labeled hostile.

“Captain,” said the sonarman, “we do not have contact with the 688I. Only merchant vessels.”

“This one, contact three. How close is it?”

“Sir, eleven thousand yards.”

A large ship by the look of her tonals, Park noted, and pounding south at eight knots in the outer shipping lanes, away from Shanghai, possibly bound for Pacific ports. Perhaps even the Philippines.

“First Officer, you will put us on a course to intercept contact three. When you have confirmed that the contact is in fact a merchantman, you will summon me from the engine room.”

The wardroom phone chirped. Scott shoved aside the remains of a rare filet and French fries and snatched the receiver. “Captain.”

“Officer of the deck,” said Dozier. “Sonar’s picked up Chinese warships. They’re pinging.”

“On my way. Call away battle stations.”

“Battle stations, aye, sir.”

Scott shouldered past busy officers and sailors and eased in behind the sonar watch. In a glance, he saw that the reported frequency tonals were only a few miles off the China coast, their active sonar displayed as a pattern of dancing dots.