When I got up in the morning, I saw Andy had added a building and a boat to the war record painted on the side of the bridge. I remembered a story about a World War Two submarine crew who had blown up a train, but a building was something new.
I sent Andy to get some sleep. I sat down in the captain’s chair on the bridge with a cup of coffee. The GPS showed us to be drifting right over the submarine. One engine was idling quietly to give us electricity, but other than that everything was still.
I talked with Dr. Games about the moral complications of destroying civilian property. I didn’t tell her which country they were from. She asked me if anyone had been hurt. I said I didn’t think so.
Everything was placid and relaxed for a few days. Jones didn’t leave her room very much. From what I could see, though, her bruises seemed to be healing nicely. She finally emerged and got to work when the salvage ship arrived.
It was a medium-sized utility vessel that may have started off life as a drilling ship. It had hoists and a moon pool in the center of the hull to drag objects up out of the water. It didn’t conceal the fact that we were pulling something up.
It would take a day or two to get lifting straps under the sub and then haul it to the surface. Jones coordinated with the salvage crew, slipping into a professional manner on the radio. They assured us that the Chinese wouldn’t interfere with a perfectly legal salvage operation in international waters, and that we could go home. Jones wished them luck. She told us that we should be getting back to Korea. This time, it sounded almost like she was asking us, not ordering us.
The night after we left the site of the salvage operation, Andy was standing watch. He called me on the intercom, staying he had something he wanted me to check. Andy had the normal lights turned down and the bridge was lit with a soft red glow when I got there.
“I noticed this a few minutes ago,” he said, indicating the radar screen. The radar picture wasn’t very clean, as random bits of noise flashed across it, probably faint returns off the tops of waves. Andy’s finger pointed to a small, faint return almost directly behind us. As soon as it came, it was gone. I watched intently, and after a few moments, it made another brief appearance.
“Whatever this is has been appearing steadily for a while now. I first noticed it about five minutes ago.”
It was good of him to notice it, but I wasn’t convinced. “There’s a lot of crap cluttering the screen right now,” I said. “How do you know it isn’t a false contact?”
“It’s the only return that keeps appearing in exactly the same place. I had to turn the gain up to get it at all, that’s why we’re getting the clutter.”
“How do you know it isn’t an error in the radar?”
“That’s part of why I called you. If we change course, the contact should stay directly behind us if it’s an error.”
I nodded my approval. “Go ahead.”
We were heading east. Andy swung the wheel to take us on a course thirty degrees further north. I watched for a few minutes. The contact now seemed to be appearing off our port quarter.
“Earlier, I got the radar to give me a range to target,” he said. “It was about sixteen point two nautical miles. That’s almost exactly thirty kilometers. That sounds like they’re holding at a fixed distance to try to follow us without being detected.”
“Right, and if it was the U.S. Navy, the following distance would probably be a nice round number measured in miles,” I said. “So, you came up with this idea; follow it through. What do you think we’re dealing with?”
“A Chinese stealth ship. That would explain the small radar return.”
“I didn’t think they had such a thing.”
“Well, I didn’t either, but other than maybe the United States or Russia, who has the technology to build something like that? And whose turf are we on right now?”
I nodded. He had made his point. “How are they following us? Are they using radar?”
“No. He showed me the display for incoming radar signals. It was blank. “They’re probably just detecting ours and homing in on them.”
“All right. Keep on this bearing for another hour to keep them from getting suspicious and then return to the original course. Call me if they get any closer.”
On impulse, I went down to the CIC and picked up the encrypted satellite phone, dialing the number Hanley had usually called me from.
I don’t know if I expected anyone to answer, as Hanley was probably still in a hospital in Pusan. There should still be someone there, as it was the afternoon in Langley. The phone rang four times, skipped a beat as it redirected, and then rang again. It was picked up by a man who sounded bored. “Directory.”
“I know Carl Hanley isn’t there,” I said, “so I need to speak with whoever is filling in for him.”
“Who are you?”
“Sail Canvas.”
“I don’t find anyone named Carl Hanley in the office phone book.” I wondered if he’d even bothered to check.
“I called his office, and was redirected to you when nobody picked up.” I gave him Hanley’s number.
He grumbled a little bit, but eventually decided that if I had Hanley’s number it was probably worth the effort to connect me. The phone rang a few times.
“Jones,” said a sleepy female voice.
“Ponyfeathers.” I slammed the phone down and went to talk to her face-to-face. I apologized sincerely for waking her up and the unexpected profanity before quickly explaining the situation.
“I thought that a possible Chinese stealth ship was something that you might want to get a satellite to take a look at,” I said.
She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. It does sound interesting. Thank you.”
I went back to the CIC and got on the phone to Nevis’s office. Chief Stanton, his assistant, answered. I didn’t get along with him very well—or most of the people on the base at Norfolk, for that matter—but he understood that I didn’t usually call on a whim.
He transferred me to Nevis. “What is it, Canvas?”
“I think I’ve got a Chinese stealth boat following me.”
“I didn’t know they had any of those. What do you think I can do about it?”
“I’m not asking for help, I’m trying to help you. I talked to the CIA about it, and they might pull up a satellite to have a look. If I were you, I’d go talk to the guys at Langley and see if they get anything. We both know that intelligence agencies are notoriously tight-lipped, even to each other.”
“I’m just a lowly base commander,” he said. “What am I supposed to do with this information?”
“Use your imagination.” I hung up. I didn’t know if I would get any kind of reward for telling Nevis, but I figured that news of a Chinese stealth ship was more important to the Navy than the CIA. Besides, if Nevis was able to get his hands on something he might make a copy for me.
I was back in bed before I realized that a few minutes ago had been the first time Jones had ever thanked me for anything.
Andy told me the next day that the mysterious radar contact had stayed with us for most of the night before breaking off shortly before dawn. Since they hadn’t come any closer and didn’t appear to realize that we had tracked them, I decided that I didn’t need to spend too much time thinking about it. If Nevis or someone got me some information, then maybe I would be interested.
We arrived back in Korea. The plan was to resupply and then head south for Singapore to do some radio testing.
The marina didn’t have enough space for us to edge up close to shore. We were limited to a concrete island out in the center of the cove. The island was supplied with diesel from pipes buried under the seafloor, but we had to come up with another way of getting everything else.
We would need as much food as we could carry plus a few items of electronics that Andy requested. We probably could have transported everything from the shore to the island using the life boat, but I had something easier in mind.
Andy found a helicopter for hire. A man who sounded like a native of the United States answered the phone. We told him what we needed and when. He said he would be ready.
Nika, Andy, and I paddled to shore. Nika was not impressed with Korean food, so she took the life boat back to the island while Andy and I went to find something to eat. We had been told that the helicopter wouldn’t be ready for a while.
We found a promising-looking restaurant near the marina. Unfortunately, when we walked in I saw Vic Colton. He was sitting at a table by himself and he had seen us, too.
There was no use in pretending not to notice him. I glanced around, looking for other First Strike men, but didn’t see any. I led Andy over to his table.
We sat down. Colton asked, “How’d you find me?”
“We didn’t, actually,” I said. “I’m as surprised to see you as you are to see us.”
“I need you to know that I didn’t have anything to do with what happened in Pusan.” I wasn’t sure whether he was genuinely regretful, or seeing what had happened to Wilson and the others made him think that we were tougher than we looked.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” I said. Granted, he hadn’t been holding a gun on me, but he had tried to flee on the utility boat after their plan fell apart.
“Look, shooting a CIA agent is just bad business. With Wilson gone, rather than step up and run the company myself, I decided to take my money and run. I haven’t seen anyone from First Strike since then.”
“Who’s running it now?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
I figured the utility boat was still in impounded. “Do you know where the Higgins is?”
“No.”
We left the restaurant without eating, and called the helicopter company to pick us up. A short while later a beat-up van appeared. It had “Helicopters” and a phone number painted on the side, along with the Korean-language equivalent. The man driving was older, maybe fifty, with grey hair and mustache. He said his name was Leslie Shepherd, but he preferred Shep.
We climbed into the van and made our way to an electronics store Andy had found. Looking at the quality of the van, I was a little perturbed about the quality of the rest of Shep’s business.
“Do you do many landings on ships?” I asked.
“Not so much anymore, although I did plenty in the twenty years I spent in the Navy.”
I figured that qualified him as experienced enough, but I would wait until I saw the helicopter to make final judgments.
After loading the electronics into the back of the van, we went to a market. We bought so much that the merchant threw in a free pallet to hold it all. After that, Shep drove us to the airport.
His hangar was small and a little dingy. The name of his business used the word helicopters but I saw that he only had one. It was an old Huey that looked like it may have been left over from the Vietnam War, despite the newer coat of blue paint.
After paying Shep his fee, we strapped the pallet down in the back of the helicopter with a cargo net. Shep handed us each a headset with an intercom connection and pointed us to two seats against the cockpit bulkhead.
“Aren’t we going to take it out of the hangar first?” I asked.
Shep shrugged. “I’ve never had any problems starting it up in here before.” He strapped in to the pilot’s seat. Reluctantly, I sat down and belted in to reverse-facing seat. The helicopter was equipped with skids instead of wheels, so he would actually have to fly out of the hangar.
“Engines on,” said Shep over the intercom. Overhead, the turbines began to whine as they started. After warming them up for a few minutes, Shep said, “Moving out,” and the helicopter slowly rose off the ground.
He made it hover about a foot off the floor of the hangar. He maintained that altitude as he maneuvered the helicopter out the door and paused to receive permission to takeoff from the airport control tower. When he got it, he said, “Takeoff,” and gave the engines more fuel.
Once we were in the air, I began to calm down. I was probably the least-flying pegasus I had ever met, but being aloft was comforting. Shep told us before he did anything, and the flight was so gentle that we could have gotten away without strapping the pallet down.
Back at the marina, Shep commented, “Nice boat you’ve got there,” as he brought us in for a hover off the bow.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“Do you think you could use a full time pilot?” he joked. “How do you want to do this? Is that an elevator you’ve got in the center of the deck?”
“Yes, it is. Just drop us off and we’ll drag the pallet over to the elevator once you leave.”
“No need.” He pivoted the helo and moved in. I felt a light tap as one skid touched the deck.
“You should be good to go now,” said Shep.
I slid the door open. The skid underneath me was on the deck. The other hovered over the sea, yet Shep held the helicopter steady. The elevator was clear.
Andy and I pulled the pallet out and set it on the elevator. We returned our headsets to the now unoccupied seats. Before I closed the door, I put my business card inside one of the earphones.
Shep waved and took off again. Andy and I rode the elevator down with our purchases.
It was getting towards evening when we pulled out. There was still plenty of light left, but it wouldn’t last for too many more hours.
We were just clearing Korean waters when Andy called out from the CIC. “We’ve got a surface contact dead astern that’s coming like a bat out of hell.”
“Hostile?”
“I think we’d better assume yes. I’m detecting their radar, and they probably have a return on us.”
I was getting tired of people coming up on us from behind. I swore my next boat would have nasty aft-facing weapons to deal with the problem.
Making a quick decision, I swung the wheel around, reversing our course and throttled back a little to a slow cruise. If we were going to meet them, they might as well have to come to us. I knew that the Higgins could make more than forty knots, which fit the description of our pursuing radar contact. We wouldn’t have long to wait.
Jones came up to the bridge. “Why did you just turn around?”
“We might be about to meet what’s left of First Strike.”
“Are they going to shoot at us?” She looked worried.
“Maybe. Actually, probably.”
“Hang on, this isn’t my fight. I’m not with you!”
“Well, I doubt they know that you’re aboard. Even if they do, they’ve already shown that they don’t have any qualms about shooting a CIA agent.”
“Have you tried…talking to them?”
I picked up the radio mic and dialed up the frequency. “Corsair for Glory. First Strike, are you there?” I waited thirty seconds. There was no reply.
I put the microphone down and turned to Jones. Her face had gone a little pale. Nika came up the stairs with her rifle just then, elbowing the CIA agent aside. “Andy told me that First Strike may be on their way.”
“Right.”
“What weapons might they have?” Nika asked.
“Small arms, I’d guess. They might have a heavy machine gun or RPGs.”
Speaking of, we should be concerned about our own weapons. I touched the intercom button. “Andy, is the CIWS ready to go?”
“As far as I know. I’ll go check.”
I picked up the big binoculars that were kept on the bridge and looked out. Several miles away, I spotted the low-slung shape of the Higgins. It was coming fast.
Meeting Vic Colton had been a coincidence, but I was willing to bet that he was lying through his teeth when he told us that he wasn’t with First Strike anymore. They shouldn’t have found us otherwise.
I went back to the radio, although I didn’t expect that it would change anything. “First Strike, we want to talk.”
A voice growled back, “Too late for that.” About the same time, four shells lanced past our boat, landing somewhere behind us. Jones ducked.
I threw the wheel hard over and slammed the throttles to the stops. Grabbing the binoculars again, I took another look at the First Strike boat.
On the front part of the boat, four men were crewing a weapon mounted to the deck. It quickly fired four more times, the shells going wide.
Based on the look of it and the unique four-shot loading system, I thought that it must be a Bofors forty millimeter cannon. It had probably been mounted on the Higgins since the war. They were aiming it using the old iron sights attached to it. It wasn’t very accurate, but it had a longer range than the CIWS and the shells hit harder.
I hit the ship-wide intercom. “Andy, is the CIWS ready?” No reply. He either didn’t hear it or wasn’t near an intercom terminal.
“Go find him,” I said to Jones. She still looked shocked. She looked at me, obviously hearing, but too wrapped up in being terrified to understand. I was terrified too, but damned if I was going down without a fight.
Nika shook her head at Jones and dashed for the stairs. Through the binoculars, I saw the loader shove another four rounds into the Bofors. I cranked the wheel back the other way and the shells missed again. Jones lost her balance and fell.
“What the hell are you doing?” I screamed at her in frustration. “If you’re not helping save our asses, then get off my bridge!”
She still may not have fully comprehended what I was saying, but the anger in my shouting got to her and she scrambled away. I turned back to the windshield. Behind me, there was the sound of a collision and someone fell down the stairs.
Seconds later, Nika and Andy made it up to the bridge, presumably after climbing over Jones. Both were breathing heavily. “We’re good to go,” gasped Andy. He activated the CIWS controls and the elevator rose to reveal the weapon.
“Short bursts,” I reminded him. “We won’t have time to reload.”
The CIWS’s integral radar lit up and tracked the torpedo boat. “It’s a little far for a sure hit,” Andy said.
“Just get it done.”
Andy took a deep breath and fired. At 4,500 rounds per minute, the CIWS sounded less like a conventional machine gun and more like a chainsaw. A short one-second volley of bullets flew over the Higgins, and suddenly they were the ones running to get out of the way, not us.
Andy adjusted slightly and the next burst hit. The wooden hull of the Higgins didn’t stand a chance against the armor piercing twenty millimeter ammunition. He continued to rake the boat bow to stern until the CIWS finally ran out of ammo.
With hundreds of holes in it, the torpedo boat began to sink almost immediately. I was a little sad to see an irreplaceable veteran boat destroyed, but I was very happy to be alive. I slowed the engines and turned back to our original course.
Maybe we should have looked for survivors. I dismissed the idea. If there were any, they would be hostile and we didn’t have enough crew to keep them under control. And they had tried to kill us. What goes around comes around, suckers.
We cleaned up the CIWS and replaced the ammunition belt. Andy got some paint and went topside to add to our record. I didn’t see Jones.
The time it took us to travel from Korea down to Singapore almost felt like a pleasure cruise. There were no jobs, no shootouts, just blissful nothing.
The South China Sea is the shallow end of the Pacific Ocean. I’m no geologist, but something the Earth did caused that to happen and also shoved up all the islands that made up the Philippines and Malaysia.
In Singapore, we were supposed to meet up with the British who would be testing their radio encryption equipment with us while we traveled to Diego Garcia. To rendezvous to with them, though, we needed information from Jones.
I hadn’t seen her since the battle with First Strike, but since food kept disappearing from the galley, I assumed that she was still on board. I knocked on her door.
She opened it a crack. “We’re in Singapore,” I said. “I need to know how to contact the British.”
“They sent one man. He’ll be flying in to Singapore Changi International tonight. His name is A.J. Stuart.”
“You don’t say.” That didn’t make sense. Stuart was in law enforcement, not military research.
“You know him?”
“We’ve met. Maybe they sent him so we know who to look for at the airport.” I turned to go.
“Mr. Canvas?”
“Yeah?” I stopped. She had opened the door wider so I could see her face.
“I’m sorry for what happened during the shootout. I feel useless.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being scared,” I said. “You just can’t let it hold you back. You can be as afraid as you want, and as long as you’re never willing roll over and surrender, you’ll be all right.”
I hadn’t intended to get so philosophical, but hopefully I had made my point. Going topside, I went with Nika to find a taxi to take us to the airport.
The cab driver didn’t actually know the way to the airport, which seemed like a serious handicap in his line of work. When we eventually got there, we found a bored-looking A.J. Stuart waiting for us. Hawker Hurricane was with him.
“Is the trial over?” I asked.
“No,” said Stuart. “They took a hiatus to gather more evidence. The protection detail asked me how I’d kept her so safe when she was in my custody. I told them about sailing the high seas, and they thought that it was a marvelous idea.” He cracked a hint of a smile. “So here we are. Much as I need a vacation, I trust you to see that she’s well taken care of.”
“Thank you, father,” said Hawker, rolling her eyes.
“Did Andy know you were coming?” I asked her.
“I told him I was going somewhere else. Until I got here, I didn’t even know about this meeting.”
“Confidentiality has sometimes been a problem,” Stuart admitted. “If I ever find a rat in the Serious Organized Crime Agency, I’ll wring his neck with my bare hands.”
“We’re always available,” I said. “If you think of anything we can do.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” He left.
We’d told the taxi to stay, and I think the driver’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw Hawker. He either recognized her, or the dressed-down travel clothes she wore weren’t dressed-down enough. Perhaps both.
The car pulled into the marina. We’d managed to secure a berth right along the seawall and the taxi was able to pull up near the boat.
Singapore has some draconian laws. It’s not the kind of place where people just walk around with assault rifles, so when I saw a group of four men step out from cover pointing weapons at us, I had reason to be concerned.
Nika and I pulled Hawker out of the car and shoved her towards the boat. The cab driver took off as fast as he could, not waiting to be paid. That was just as well, because I had other things on my mind. I wasn’t surprised to see Nika holding her SR-1 Vektor pistol. Better safe than sorry, and I was reminded once again why she was such a good friend.
Andy must have been on the bridge and paying attention because the engines were already started by the time we got aboard. He stepped out on the bridge wing with his shotgun and covered Nika and I as we untied the boat.
We didn’t have any trouble after that. Whoever it was that attacked us vanished after their ambush failed and the sounds of sirens began to get close to the marina. We left at full throttle, breaking several maritime laws. If we could get out of sight, then by the time the authorities realized we had been there it would be too late to intercept us. Once again, it was just easier to duck the police rather than explain to them exactly how we had gotten into a gunfight.
When I stepped back into the superstructure, I found Andy helping Hawker unpack. Nika came in behind me. It took me a second, but I realized that I didn’t know who was driving. Nika and I went up to the bridge. Jones was there.
“After we were away from shore, Andy told me to keep the wheel steady and then he left,” she said.
“Are you familiar with Hawker Hurricane?” I asked.
“I’ve heard the name. She was aboard some time before I replaced Hanley,” Jones answered. “That’s all I know.”
“She’s back again and will be traveling with us for a while.”
Jones got up, offering me the controls.
“You can have it for a few more minutes,” I said. “We’ll be back.”
Nika and I went down to the galley. I’m not a freak about gun maintenance, but since there had been shooting, we should do some cleaning. The two of us worked over Nika’s gun until we were satisfied before going back and relieving Jones.
Having no other orders, we set course for the Indian Ocean.