Red Shark

“Hell, we put them in there every day right under their noses. But if that’s what you’re worried about, we can hit the NKs from the Yellow Sea, overfly North Korea itself with Tomahawks and—”

“Gentlemen, please let’s stay focused on the main issue,” the president said.

“Admiral Webster,” said Friedman, “be assured that if it comes to it, we will consider every option, including a Tomahawk strike.”

The president looked toward the house, at his aide coming toward him. “Something for us, Karen?”

She pointed to the flying saucer on the table and said, “Yes, Mr. President, General Radford is waiting on SRO comms.”

“Put him through.”

A moment later the flying saucer croaked, after which the conferees heard Radford say in a clear, booming voice, “Mr. President, Mr. Secretary, gentlemen, I have some good news. Our special-ops team has taken control of Matsu Shan and is in the process of searching the villa for holdouts and for any intelligence they can find.”

“That’s great news, Karl,” said the president, lifting his eyes heavenward. “Have they found any sign of Jin and his guest, any evidence that might tell us who this man is?”

“Not yet, sir. But Scott is pretty certain he’ll find something.”

Ellsworth gave the president a thumbs-up. The president looked better than he had in days, and so did the others.

“As for Jin,” Radford said, “we’ve reviewed our KH-12 pickups and can confirm that he lifted off Matsu Shan a good two hours before the SEALs arrived. Bad timing is what it was. As for the other party, we think he may have returned to Chi-lung aboard Fat’s junk. Not sure, mind you, but everything points to it: Fat’s departure and return to the island again after the SEALs had landed. This was confirmed by Commander Deacon aboard the Reno.”

Another thumbs-up from Ellsworth.

“Any casualties?” asked the president.

“Minor.”

“What about Fat’s people?” Gordon asked.

“I understand that almost all of his men — and several women — were killed. None have been captured so far.”

“Karl, it’s the president again…”

“Sir?”

“How soon can they extract and get themselves and the Reno the hell out of there?”

Radford hesitated, and the others sensed that something bad was coming.

“We have a slight problem on that score, sir. I’ve been in direct contact with Deacon, and he informs me that they’ve encountered a Chinese Kilo-class sub in their op area. Unless and until it departs, it’ll impede their ability to recover the SEALs and haul out.”

“Karl, Carter. Has the Kilo made contact with the Reno?”

“Deacon doesn’t think the Chinese skipper knows she’s there.”

SecDef Gordon added, “Deacon knows, doesn’t he, the rules of engagement he’s operating under?”

The president, surprised, said, “Just what are the rules of engagement Deacon is operating under?”

Radford said, “Sir, if he gets in a jam, he’s to open fire and sink the Kilo.”

Iseda Tokugawa settled back in the leather-and-wood executive cabin aboard the ToriAir 737 and listened to its engines spool up. As the plane trundled away from the Chiang Kai-shek International cargo terminal onto the taxiway, he shut his eyes and saw Marshal Jin’s skull-like head nodding assurance after assurance that nothing would go wrong.

But Tokugawa knew better. The plan was so fragile and so dependent on others for success that it could easily fail. Yet the plan, fragile or not, had taken on a life of its own, propelled by the sheer weight of its consequences, and it was now beyond anyone’s control, even his own. Only a technical casualty could derail it. Perhaps the warheads would fail to materialize. Or they would be unsuitable for miniaturization. Or the submarine, Red Shark, would sink. Or a million other things.

Airborne, Tokugawa cranked back his seat to snooze, confident that despite attempts to settle the dispute between North Korea and the United States, it was too late to stop what had been put in motion.

20

Matsu Shan, outbound