Fatal Thunder

by Larry Bond

  “Murphy is working overtime today,” lamented Thigpen.

  “Murphy? Who is Murphy?” asked Petrov, confused.

  Thigpen smiled, then explained. “Murphy, as in Murphy’s Laws. You know, if anything can go wrong, it will.”

  “Ah, I understand,” Petrov responded. “The circumstances were not in our favor. So what do we do now? Head northeast in pursuit?”

  “Why did Jain reveal his position by firing a weapon? What could he have been shooting at?” injected Samant. “The message made no mention of a ship being hit or sinking. Just two large explosions were observed.”

  “Another submarine,” Jerry answered. “He got snapped up as he was exiting Dangan Shuido. A Chinese boat got lucky, found him, and fired first. Jain counterfired.”

  “Exactly!” exclaimed Samant. “He was forced to react, and he did so in accordance with the tactical procedures that he was taught. I submit his evasion after the attack will follow along a similar line.”

  “And that means he probably won’t be heading northeast, along the Chinese coast,” concluded Jerry. “He’ll head out to deeper water, give himself a little more maneuvering room.”

  “But he won’t ignore his orders,” Samant cautioned. “Jain will bias his evasion route toward the next target. Given that, the likely set of courses are between here and here.” The Indian laid his hands down in a narrow pie wedge on the screen. The quartermaster made some adjustments on the screen, drawing two lines under Samant’s hands, and quickly read off the bearings.

  “It’s between zero nine zero and one three zero, Skipper.”

  Jerry took over the controls and laid down two lines of bearing from North Dakota’s position toward the wedge. “Since we aren’t hearing him now, he’s almost certainly not at flank speed. Assuming a speed of, say, fifteen knots—” Jerry looked up at Samant, who nodded his agreement. “—Chakra is probably somewhere around here. Assuming we haven’t totally messed things up.”

  “That’s just thirty to forty miles behind us,” said Thigpen.

  “Correct, Commander. And that means we still have a chance of catching him,” replied Samant; there was a tinge of regret in his voice.

  “I’d like to note that we’re making the explicit assumption Chakra wasn’t hit in the encounter,” noted Petrov. “And while I agree it’s reasonable, someone should check and make sure it’s valid.”

  Jerry looked at Petrov and nodded. “We can relay the request to Squadron Fifteen and they can ask the Chinese. It’s way inside their territorial waters and I have no desire to test their acoustic classification ability. From what I’ve seen, their preferred method is to classify by ordnance. In the meantime, we have some things that need to be done before we can go chasing after Chakra.

  “Bernie, recall Napoleon and Bismarck. I want them in their tubes in thirty minutes. Next, get us to periscope depth. We need to relay our questions and report our movements to Squadron Fifteen. Then we go hunting.”

  15 April 2017

  1900 Local Time

  Hong Kong Garrison Headquarters

  People’s Republic of China

  * * *

  Captain Zhang almost ran down the main corridor at the Hong Kong Garrison headquarters, hurrying to answer the urgent summons he’d just received from his superior’s chief of staff. The day had started out on a chaotic note, and it had only gotten worse as it wore on. Besides coordinating the search for the Indian Akula, Zhang had been investigating the cause of the two large explosions reported by numerous ships in Dangan Shuido that afternoon. Moments earlier, he’d received the initial report from Huizhou, a Type 056 corvette assigned to the naval brigade at Hong Kong. Huizhou’s CO reported a large oil slick in the vicinity of the explosions, and that some debris had been recovered—debris that appeared to be of Chinese origin.

  Then came the almost incomprehensible order from the South Sea Fleet headquarters in Zhanjiang to sortie the three minesweepers. When Zhang objected, saying the minesweepers would be of little use in searching for the Indian submarine, the agitated voice on the other end of the phone screamed, “Not the submarine, you fool! Sweep the harbor!” Before Zhang could even ask which one, the unidentified individual had slammed the receiver down. And now, Lieutenant General Tian wanted to see him immediately. If Zhang had any hair, it would’ve been on fire.

  The chief of staff saw the captain coming and rushed to open the door to the garrison commander’s inner officer. Zhang nodded but said nothing. The door was shut almost before he’d passed through the jamb. He found Lieutenant General Tian seated at his desk, both hands cradling his head. At first, he seemed oblivious of the captain’s presence; Tian’s attention was focused on whatever he was reading. Then slowly the general raised his head, and Zhang saw his face—fear and dread were all over it. Zhang suddenly felt a chill.

  “Captain, I’m putting the entire garrison on a war footing. You’re to have all ships in the naval brigade made ready for sea immediately.” Tian’s voice was businesslike, but there was a subtle shakiness to it as well.

  “Of course, General. We are virtually ready now with our patrol combatants currently out looking for the Indian submarine. The minesweepers and the other auxiliaries already have a full load of fuel and provisions and can deploy within the hour. Where am I to send the ships, sir?”

  “What?” Tian mumbled. His expression seemed distant, unfocused, and that’s when Zhang realized the man was in shock.

  “General, what’s wrong?” asked Zhang anxiously. He’d never seen Tian so shaken before.

  Tian raised the piece of paper in his hand, and offered it to Zhang. The captain took it and started to read; he didn’t even get halfway through. “This … this can’t be true? It’s unbelievable! Are we seriously going to accept the Americans’ word on something so … so fantastic?”

  “The Central Military Commission has concluded the Americans’ warning is likely valid, and given the nature of this emergency, we are hardly in the position to debate its accuracy,” replied Tian more firmly. “The question before us, is what can we do about it?”

  “Well, this explains the bizarre phone call I received from the South Sea Fleet headquarters just before you asked to see me. I was ordered to sortie the minesweepers, without any explanation,” Zhang said as he glanced again at the message. “I’ll order the minesweepers out immediately and have them begin searching for the torpedo. But I still don’t see which harbor they want us to search.”

  “You’ll have to search both the Port of Shenzhen and Victoria Harbor, Captain, we don’t have a choice.”

  “General, that is a lot of territory to cover with only three minesweepers,” remarked Zhang cautiously. “We’d need at least twice that number to do the search properly. That and a lot of time.”

  Tian frowned; he was struggling to retain his composure, and the captain’s pessimistic objections were causing him to lose his patience. “Aren’t the crews adequately equipped and trained? We’re talking about two relatively small areas, Captain.”

  “These are open-ocean minesweepers, General, they’re designed to look for mines on the relatively clear ocean floor, not in the middle of a badly polluted port! The bottoms of Shenzhen and Victoria Harbor are littered with trash, and a lot of that trash will look very much like a torpedo. Each of those contacts will have to be visibly identified by a diver or an imaging sonar. With each port spread out over a hundred fifty square kilometers, that’s a lot of area to cover, a lot of contacts that will have to be positively identified. This will take time.”

  The general didn’t look happy. “What about the channel surveys the navy has conducted? How long did they take?”

  Zhang shook his head. “Those surveys took weeks to complete and the most recent survey is nearly ten years old, and even then, that covers only a tiny fraction of the harbor floor. The rest of it hasn’t been looked at in decades.”

  “We don’t have weeks, Captain!” shouted Tian in frustration. “We may only have a few days!
Perhaps even less!”

  “I’m well aware of that, sir,” Zhang shot back. “I’ll deploy the minesweepers immediately and then request some civilian side-scan sonars be sent to equip the smaller auxiliaries. With a little luck I should be able to double the size of the mine-hunting force in the next twenty-four hours. When can I issue the Notice to Mariners that the ports of Shenzhen and Victoria Harbor are closed?”

  Tian took a deep breath, and shook his head. “We aren’t closing the harbors, Captain.”

  “What!?” exclaimed Zhang. “What bureaucratic fool made that decision!?”

  “The Central Military Commission,” Tian replied grimly. “Read the last paragraph of the message.”

  Zhang paused, and finished reading the message. He then looked up slowly and faced the general. Zhang couldn’t believe his eyes. “We’re not going to alert the civilian population? Do they not realize that if we fail, millions will die?”

  “The CMC won’t tolerate the political chaos that an evacuation announcement would create,” explained Tian. “They’re afraid that certain sections of the population would use this crisis to advance their political views.”

  “Do the commission members actually believe these people would stay in Hong Kong and hold demonstrations against the Communist Party rather than escape?” asked an astonished Zhang. “They aren’t that stupid. They’d try to flee along with everyone else.”

  “No, Captain, the Central Military Commission isn’t afraid they’ll stay. The commission members are concerned they’ll leave, and then hold their demonstrations in the shadow of a destroyed Hong Kong. It would be impossible for the Communist Party to refute that they had failed the people of China, once again.

  “The CMC is aware of the risks, but they don’t want photos and videos of massive traffic jams and panicking people appearing on the Internet or other social media, followed by a mushroom cloud climbing high into the sky. The CMC would appear to be totally helpless. They can’t afford that,” finished Tian. Sitting back down, he reached for the message. Zhang gave it back to him.

  “Only high-level party members and their families are to be evacuated, and in total secrecy. The rest of the citizens of Hong Kong will have to unknowingly rely on your mine hunters’ skills,” said Tian.

  Disheartened, Zhang nodded his head gently; he had his orders. “I’ll do what I can, sir. But I make no promises.”

  “I understand, Captain.”

  Zhang turned to leave, took a couple of steps, stopped, and turned back around. “One request, General.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “When you provide your status report to the CMC, I would greatly appreciate it if you would be bluntly honest. If they want me to find this damn torpedo, they need to close the ports. Mine hunting is a difficult enough task to do without having to worry about being run over by a massive container ship. If they don’t close the ports, the search will take longer and it will not be as accurate as it could be.”

  “I will include your exact concerns in my report, Captain, I assure you. Is there anything else I should ask for?”

  “Yes, General. Help. We need more ships to scan the bottom, preferably with high-resolution imaging sonars. And frankly, I don’t care where they find them.”

  15 April 2017

  0900 EST

  White House Situation Room

  Washington, D.C.

  * * *

  An irritated Joanna Patterson strode into the room; she was still tired from the late night and had just started her second cup of coffee before being dragged down by an urgent message from one of the watchstanders. A Chinese vice chairman of the CMC demanded to speak with her on the video teleconferencing system. She really didn’t want to have another conversation with General Shi; the last one had been painful enough with his constant posturing and threats. Braced for a rude greeting, Patterson was surprised to see a People’s Liberation Army Navy admiral on the screen. As she sat down within view of the camera, the Chinese admiral welcomed her.

  “Dr. Patterson, good morning. I am Admiral Jing Fei, Commander of the People’s Liberation Army Navy and a member of the Central Military Commission.”

  “Good evening, Admiral Jing,” Patterson responded carefully. “I don’t mean to be impolite, Admiral, but I was under the impression that General Shi was my liaison with the CMC.”

  “Unfortunately, General Shi is occupied with other duties this evening,” explained Jing. Joanna didn’t detect any change in the admiral’s facial features as he spoke; his expression remained neutral—a perfect poker face. “And since the reason for the call deals with a naval issue, it was thought that I would be a more appropriate representative.”

  “I see,” replied Patterson. Shi got canned, she thought. They must want something from us. “So, Admiral, what can I do for you this evening?”

  “Per our agreement, I’m to report that our investigation of the explosions this afternoon in Dangan Shuido were caused by torpedoes. We also agree with the analysis by your Squadron Fifteen commodore, that Chakra was likely leaving the Hong Kong area. The Indian submarine torpedoed and sank one of our Project 636M Kilo submarines.”

  Patterson took a sharp breath, suddenly worried about the Chinese crew. “Were there any survivors?”

  “That is unknown at the moment. None of the crew has escaped the stricken boat thus far. And even though the Kilo is in shallow water, she is lying on her port side and this may be complicating the situation.”

  “What can we do to help with the rescue effort?”

  “While I appreciate your offer, Dr. Patterson, we have more important matters to discuss. We are in urgent need of assistance to help locate the torpedo, or torpedoes, that Chakra has undoubtedly fired into our ports. Anything the United States can provide to aid our search will be greatly welcomed.”

  Finally, thought Patterson. The Chinese government had at last come to their senses and was now asking for help. She was certain the decision was unpopular, and had caused more than a few bruised egos, but better that than a radioactive hole in Hong Kong. While she rejoiced on the inside, her outside voice remained businesslike.

  “I’m not sure what resources we have nearby, but I’ll find out and will send the information to Commodore Simonis at Guam,” she promised. “Please have your staff work directly with him to get the equipment to Hong Kong.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll have the commander of the Hong Kong Garrison establish communications with Squadron Fifteen.” Jing looked like he was getting ready to leave when Patterson pressed him.

  “Admiral, I again offer our assistance with rescuing your crew.” She leaned forward, emphasizing her point. “Don’t abandon them.”

  The admiral’s face finally cracked a little; a flash of regret briefly appeared. He then let out a deep sigh. “Doctor, I’m not confident there is anyone alive to rescue. Divers went down and rapped on the hull, there was no response. We will try again in the morning, but the odds are not particularly good.”

  “You’re a submariner, aren’t you?” queried Patterson.

  Jing looked a little surprised, then slowly smiled. “Yes, Doctor, I am.”

  Grinning, Patterson answered his unasked question. “It shows. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with our CNO and get things moving. Your people in Hong Kong will hear from Commodore Simonis shortly.”

  * * *

  Patterson walked as fast as she could back to her office and telephoned Admiral Hughes. After a brief conversation, she took off for the Oval Office and for the umpteenth time resolved to start wearing flats to work. The president was with Milt Alvarez going over the afternoon’s schedule when he saw his grim-faced national security advisor stride into the office.

  “You’ve got that look, Joanna. What disaster has befallen us this time?”

  “I just spoke with the PLAN commander, Admiral Jing, they’ve basically confirmed what we thought; Chakra has almost certainly mined Hong Kong harbor. And she sank a Chinese submarine on h
er way out.”

  Myles closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead; disappointment and frustration filled his face. “I had high hopes that Commander Mitchell would have caught Chakra before she could have launched any of the torpedoes. This unfortunate turn of events makes the situation considerably worse.”

  “No one is more disappointed than Jerry, Mr. President. And if I know him, he’s already trying to pick up the trail, which leads me to what I need to discuss with you.”

  The president looked perplexed. “What do you mean?”

  “Sir, the Chinese have formally asked for our help in searching the two port facilities in Hong Kong. They need high-resolution, imaging-sonar-equipped platforms, and they need them now. I just talked to Admiral Hughes; the best he said we can do is to fly out side-scan sonar teams to Hong Kong, but this will take about twenty-four hours. And even after the teams arrive, it will take another six to twelve hours to get their gear rigged for operations aboard a Chinese ship.

  “Thirty-six hours is too damn long, Mr. President. Once all the preps are completed, it’s still going to take days to properly scour both harbors. They aren’t small and the bottoms are undoubtedly strewn with all sorts of junk. We need to move faster,” stressed Patterson.

  “What’s this got to do with Mitchell, Joanna? He certainly can’t rummage around looking for the torpedo with his submarine,” protested Myles.

  “No, he can’t. But his UUVs can.”

  Myles’s expression changed instantly to one of curiosity. Joanna had his attention.

  “Jerry is carrying underwater remotes equipped with imaging side-scan sonars specifically designed for mine hunting. The resolution on those sonars is incredible, down to a couple of inches. They’ll have little problem identifying a torpedo, even if it’s buried in the mud. If we send him to Hong Kong, he can deploy his UUVs and monitor the search remotely from outside Chinese territorial waters.”

  The president caught the implication immediately. “But that means pulling Mitchell off the hunt for Chakra.”