by Joe Weber
He timed the slow-moving cruiser as it completed a circle around Kitty Hawk, then glanced at the weapons' projected running time to the target. Takagi calculated the opportune firing time in order to have the pair of Sea Ferrets arrive at the cruiser when it was directly between the submarine and the huge carrier.
Hopefully, the CO thought while he nervously walked the periscope through another 360-degree sweep, the torpedoes will go under the keel of the destroyer and hit the carrier as they start turning back toward their programmed sound signature.
"Run the code for both tubes," Takagi ordered in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Run the code--both tubes," Kanjiro relayed to the fire-control team, "and stand by to execute."
Seconds passed before the twin amber lights illuminated on the status board.
"Both torpedoes are ready," Kanjiro tensely declared. Takagi studied the destroyer and counted the seconds it took to turn 90 degrees. "Solution update."
A fire-control technician tapped three buttons on his console and looked at the exec. "Solution input."
"Weapons ready, sir," Kanjiro reported with a resolute expression and cast a look at the blinking lights on the status board. "Don't fail us," he said to himself.
"Stand by," Takagi calmly advised.
The junior officer on the fire-control team reached up and carefully placed his safety-interlock contact switches in the off position. "Weapons armed, sir."
"Very well."
Takagi hesitated for a brief moment and experienced the serenity of a mind completely at ease. "Fire One."
Everyone stared at the status board as the compressed-air charge hurtled the first Sea Ferret out of the specially designed launch tube.
All hands simultaneously felt the sudden pressure-pulse in their middle ears.
Along with his crew, Takagi plugged his nostrils and purged his eustachian tubes to equalize the air pressure on both sides of his tympanic membranes.
"Tube One fired, Captain."
"Stand by," Takagi replied in a clear voice. His trembling fingers were the only visible indications of the temporary increase in activity in his central nervous system.
The Sea Ferret rapidly accelerated out of the mass of air bubbles as the onboard computer double-checked its systems and the functions of the external control surfaces. A split second after the compatibility check, the weapon's active sonar sent out a wave of sound energy to initially locate and track the designated target. After the stealthy torpedo was stabilized on course, the passive sonar locked on the sound signature of the American cruiser.
"Fire Two," Takagi ordered and immediately lowered the periscope. His responsibility was finished as far as he was concerned; now it was up to the Sea Ferrets to complete the mission and avenge a small slice of Japan's honor.
The second torpedo plunged out of the tube and the crew again cleared their ears.
"Tube Two fired, Captain."
"Right full rudder," the CO said hastily and looked directly in Kanjiro's widened eyes. "Level at sixty-five meters and set course for the South China Sea."
"Yes, sir," he replied with a happy expression.
Chapter 36.
KITTY HAWK
The crew remained at general quarters while hundreds of sailors and Marines fought the flight-deck blaze and the secondary fires belowdeck. Hawk's escort vessels continued to spray water on the burning ship while exhausted officers and men struggled together in an effort to clear the remaining weapons from the four-and-a-half-acre flight deck.
Though tired, hungry, and soggy, the men were methodically throwing bombs, rockets, ammunition, and other ordnance over the side of the ship, then staggering back into the heat and smoke to search for more explosives before the ammo could cook off and start more fires.
Rear Admiral Isaac Landesman looked down at the blackened and scorched deck where part of the raging inferno had been contained. Thousands of pieces of aircraft and firefighting gear lay strewn in a tangled mess on the wet, slippery flight deck.
Landesman lowered his head. God, give us the courage and strength to overcome this tragedy. Please don't let--
"Excuse me, sir." The carrier group commander's aide interrupted the silent prayer.
Landesman turned to see the sadness written on the junior officer's face.
"What is it, Tom?"
"Damage control has confirmed at least twenty-nine casualties in the berthing spaces directly below the flight deck." The JO looked down, fighting the ache inside. "They never had a chance."
Landesman inspected the jagged holes in the steel deck near the two remaining arresting-gear cables. "Below where the bombs went off?"
"Yes, sir."
The Admiral was about to speak when a devastating explosion rocked the big carrier from fantail to bow.
Stunned, Landesman glanced aft as a huge geyser of water shot skyward and engulfed the deck-edge platform used by the squadron landing-signal officers. "That must be ordnance from belowdeck!"
The aide stepped to the window. "It looks like something went off on the hangar bay."
When the spray had cleared, the sailors who had been holding a hose near the LSO platform were gone.
Landesman was sure the trio of firefighters had been blown over the side of the carrier. He reached for his handset to initiate the man-overboard rescue exercise, then stopped in midsentence when another horrendous blast near the bow shook the mighty warship.
Momentarily speechless, Landesman realized that Kitty Hawk was being torpedoed.
HARUSHIO
Standing behind the senior sonar technician, Commander Shigezo Takagi heard both Sea Ferrets detonate. He felt a strange mixture of elation tempered by pessimism. Seconds later, he turned to his XO. "I hit something, but I don't know if it was the carrier."
"I've got a feeling it was the carrier," Oda Kanjiro said with unrestrained enthusiasm. "What a shot!"
After what seemed like an eternity, the sonar operator stared at his display and made the announcement Takagi had been waiting to hear.
"Sir," he reported in a hushed voice, "I've got a solid contact from one of the cruisers."
Takagi turned to his second-in-command and smiled broadly. "If the torpedoes ran at the proper depth, we hit the carrier."
Oda Kanjiro returned the smile. "Sir, our Sea Ferrets ran true. I'm positive we got the carrier."
KEIO PLAZA INTER-CONTINENTAL HOTEL
Steve rinsed his mouth and placed his toothbrush in its plastic container while he thought about the hassle he and Susan had gone through with the Japanese law-enforcement officials. Shigeki Okamoto had died at the scene, and the first police officers who arrived had arrested Susan and Steve and confiscated their weapons.
After numerous phone calls to the headquarters of the FBI and CIA, along with a blizzard of paperwork, Steve and Susan were finally given back their personal weapons and released from custody.
Wickham took a swig of mouthwash and thought about Tadashi Matsukawa. The man is getting away with murder. He looked in the mirror and studied the tiny scar above his upper lip, then spat the mouthwash in the basin. Hell, the sonuvabitch has been getting away with every crime in the book for years. We've got to find a way to corner him.
The telephone rang and Steve went to answer it while he dried his mouth.
"Wickham."
"Steve," Susan inquired with a touch of concern in her voice, "are you up and around?"
"Sure. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, but I just saw a report that one of our aircraft carriers was hit by a missile from a Japanese ship. It--a Harpoon missile, I think--apparently landed on the flight deck and caused a huge fire and numerous explosions."
The fateful news surprised and angered him. "What happened to cause them to fire a missile at us?"
"I really don't know. It's a breaking story."
She paused a moment. "Are you dressed?"
"Well, I'm in my warm-up rags." He looked down at his jogging pants. "Come on over and w
e'll turn on CNN."
"I'll be there in a minute." Her voice was tight and she nervously hesitated. "CNN isn't on the air--at least not in our hotel."
"Interesting."
"I thought so."
"The door'll be open."
"Okay."
Steve opened the door a few inches and a minute later Susan quietly knocked on it and slipped inside.
"What's happening?" he asked while she locked the door.
"From what I could gather from the local news," she began as her delicate fragrance drifted to him, "the Japanese claim that one of their destroyers accidentally fired a missile at our ship."
"Accidentally?" Steve asked with a dubious look.
"That's what the local stations are reporting. The carrier Kitty Hawk is on fire and there seems to be some confusion about how badly the ship is damaged. A senior officer, who is currently flying over the scene, said the fire appears to be out of control."
Steve shook his head. "It sounds like they're in trouble--big trouble."
"Do you think they'll lose the carrier?"
"That's possible."
"There's speculation from the Pentagon," Susan told him, "that Kitty Hawk was hit by torpedoes after the missile struck the flight deck, but they don't have confirmation at this time."
"Torpedoed?" Steve asked with a look of disbelief.
"Yes. The local media said that U. S. military-intelligence reports suggested that Iranian submarines are operating near our forces."
"That's probably speculation," Steve suggested while his every instinct warned against it. "They're trying to divert attention away from the so-called accidental missile launch."
"Possibly." Susan decided not to say anything else, since it was obvious that Steve didn't believe the Japanese version of the missile accident. "I also heard that British Airways and United Airlines have discontinued service to Osaka and Tokyo."
Steve grew silent and gazed out the window. "Yeah. I heard last night that Singapore Airlines, Cathay Pacific, and Malaysia Airlines have stopped flying into certain areas, and that many cruise ships are bypassing port calls in the South China Sea."
"Well," Susan said with a grim look on her face, "my prophecy about a war between the U. S. and Japan may be imminent."
"Susan," Steve explained, "there's something I didn't mention when we were discussing the possibility of an armed conflict between the two countries."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes," Steve replied uneasily. "The CIA located and published a document produced by a Japanese think tank that outlined what the Japanese military would do today in a sneak attack on the U. S."
"I'm not surprised," she said matter-of-factly. "The Japanese must have studied that scenario from every possible angle. They don't see any way to avoid a fight in the long run."
Wickham drooped his head in resignation. "I'm afraid this confrontation is going to get ugly."
Susan's face reflected the sadness she felt. "This whole mess . . . is an exercise in stupidity."
Steve had an unsettling fear that gnawed at him. "It doesn't look like either side is going to give in and back away."
She sat quietly for a few moments and then stared at the far wall. "What do you make of this missile accident or do you think it was a well-planned attack?"
"I really don't have any idea," he admitted, "but the whole thing sounds very suspicious to me, especially the part about being torpedoed after the missile landed on the flight deck. Something isn't in focus here, but I don't have any facts to draw from."
Susan turned and studied his expression for a moment. "Do you think the Iranians would risk shooting torpedoes at one of our carriers?"
A look of bewilderment crossed his face. "I wish I knew."
The phone rang and Steve answered it while Susan turned on the television and selected a local station. She was astonished by the latest-breaking story. A U. S. nuclear-attack submarine was missing and presumed lost in the general area of the Strait of Malacca.
Susan clicked to a different station that was broadcasting in English. "Steve." She pointed to the screen.
"Pentagon officials have confirmed that a submarine is missing," the commentator declared and turned to the representative of the Commander in Chief, U. S. Pacific Fleet.
"Captain Tyler, can you tell us the name of the submarine and what type of mission it was conducting when they lost contact with the sub?"
The former Captain of the Ohio-class ballistic-missile submarine Michigan was wary, and it showed in his eyes. "I'm afraid I can't comment on the name of the submarine or its mission at this time. However, for the record, I would like to set something straight."
He cleared his throat, then glanced at the camera and faced the reporter. "The submarine failed to make a radio report at a specific time, and we are attempting to contact the boat as I speak. We do not consider the submarine lost until we have expended all search efforts."
The correspondent persevered with unflagging energy. "Captain, what methods do you normally use to make contact with a submerged submarine?"
"Our standard command-and-control procedures."
While the camera was directed toward him, the Navy submarine expert glimpsed the reporter mouth the word relax. "Captain, in the event of a nuclear threat or national crisis, can you tell us what steps are involved in communicating the message to the submerged submarines?"
"Sure," he answered and turned toward the camera. "Faced with a major confrontation, any instructions--orders, if you will--to commence our government's Single Integrated Operational Plan would originate with the National Command Authority.
"Instructions from the highest level would then be issued by the National Military Command Center, providing it had not been destroyed. Otherwise the orders-would come from the Alternate NMCC, or, in the event it had been neutralized, from the National Emergency Airborne Command Post--KNEECAP--the Flying White House as it's called in the military."
The reporter was beginning to acquire the information he wanted to convey to his audience. "How do you go about actually transmitting the messages to the subs when they're underwater?"
"We can use defense satellites to send telemetry," the submariner replied with more confidence, "but that requires at least part of the boat to break the surface, so we have to limit that method to mainly peacetime conditions."
The correspondent gave him a reassuring nod.
"Extremely low-frequency radio waves is another means of communicating," the officer went on. "The subs can receive messages at depths of over three hundred feet, but the drawback of the ELF system is the very low data rate compared with the satellite and TACAMO systems."
The reporter quickly seized the opportunity to extract more in-depth information rather than resort to the usual dull questions. "Would you mind explaining what TACAMO stands for and how it works?"
"TACAMO"--the Captain grinned self-consciously--"is an acronym for our Take Charge And Move Out E-6A communication aircraft. The airplanes, which are rebuilt ex-airline Boeing 707s, use very-low-frequency radio transmissions to communicate with the submarines. The aircraft use an extremely long trailing wire antenna to transmit while the airplane banks in a continuous tight circle with the wire submerged directly below."
Quickly shifting his train of thought, the correspondent attempted to get the Captain to speculate or acknowledge something not previously disclosed by the Pentagon. "Are the two incidents related--the missing submarine and the fire onboard the Kitty Hawk?"
"We have no way of knowing," the submariner replied, obviously uncomfortable about the line of questioning. "When we locate the submarine, we'll be able to piece together the events that led to the current situation."
Steve, who had been half-listening to the report, placed the phone receiver down and joined Susan. "Did they say that one of our submarines has sunk in the strait?"
"It's missing," Susan answered without taking her eyes off the television set.
Wickham stared at the scr
een and turned to her. "What the hell is going on out there?"
"The beginning of a war," she replied in a soft voice.
Steve gave her a strange look, then noticed the trim submariner kept rubbing his hands together. "He doesn't sound too convincing--the sub skipper."
"Yeah, he's definitely nervous," she observed. "Was that the Agency?"
"That was Tony--my friend from the Agency." Steve smiled. "We have an appointment to interview Matsukawa."
Chapter 37.
AIR FORCE ONE
Shortly after Air Force One passed over the westernmost boundary between British Columbia and the Yukon Territories, the accommodating air-traffic controllers allowed the flight crew to begin a shallow descent in preparation for a precision instrument approach to Elmendorf Air Force Base.
In a constant effort to provide a smooth and safe flight, the pilots closely monitored the airspeed and rate of descent as they prepared to execute the ILS approach.
Hand-flying the airplane, the seasoned transport-aircraft commander kept the electronic localizer and glide slope "nailed" from the outer marker to the point where he saw the approach lights, then began the transition to the landing attitude.
The gleaming presidential Boeing 747-200B emerged from the ragged overcast and made a typically smooth Air Force One landing and rollout. The bird colonel occupying the left seat in the cockpit exited the wet runway and slowly taxied the jet toward the ramp space designated for the most famous plane in the free world.
In the combination conference and family dining room, the President sat with his senior staffers, including his Chief of Staff, the Secretaries of State and Defense, the National Security Advisor, the top deputy of the National Security Council, and the Chairman of the Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board, who happened to be a former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The conversation had been spirited and to the point during the last half of the flight.
Although a large delegation of dignitaries and well-wishers had assembled on the parking ramp to greet the Commander in Chief of the United States, the President and his senior advisers were in no hurry to leave the warmth and comfort of the blue and white jumbo jet.