Read Honorable Enemies (1994) Online
Authors: Joe Weber
"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 fa
r w
all. "What do you make of this missile accident or do yo
u t
hink 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 th
e m
essage 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 screen 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.
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.
The President hunched over the table and stared at his Defense Secretary. "Bryce, I think it's time to take off the gloves and stand our ground. We now have confirmation that Kitty Hawk was torpedoed, and the Joint Chiefs suspect that Bremerton may have suffered the same fate."
Mellongard, who looked abnormally pale, shrugged. "What do you suggest, sir?"
"Goddammit, you're the defense expert!" the President flared. "You've been in constant contact with the Chairman and the Joint Chiefs, and we have spent the past two and a half hours discussing the issues--from Kitty Hawk to the missing submarine. I want a recommendation from you, for Christ's sake!"
A few seconds passed while Mellongard considered reminding the President that it was he who was responsible for the logjam in the crowded strait and the ensuing military tragedies that had occurred. The volatile situation in the Strait of Malacca was exactly the set of circumstances Mellongard had worked so diligently to avoid.
"Sir, I think we need to proceed cautiously, and consider withdrawing the rest of our forces from the strait before the situation becomes more--"
"Admiral," the President suddenly blurted to his Chairman of the Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board, "even though you aren't the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs anymore, you're
a m
ilitary expert and former submariner. I'd like a straight opinion from you."
"Yes, sir," the Admiral responded while he avoided glancing at the Defense Secretary.
"In your estimation," the President said evenly, "what happened to our submarine?"
The Admiral furrowed his brow and put on his eyeglasses, then looked at his notes for a second.
"Mr. President, I'm convinced the boat--or what's left of it--is lying on the bottom of the strait."
A hush settled over the conference room before the President finally spoke.
"Explain to us how you arrived at your conclusion." "First, the strait isn't deep enough to crush the hull, so we can eliminate that possibility."
The President nodded.
"Secondly, if they experienced a major emergency, the Captain would have surfaced and made contact with the Kitty Hawk battle group and COMSUBPAC at Pearl Harbor."
"What if it was a catastrophic emergency," the President suggested, "like being hit by a torpedo?"
The retired Admiral leaned back and mulled the question for a moment. "If, for whatever reason, the submarine was damaged to the point it couldn't surface, the crew could send up a radio buoy, along with other means of pinpointing their position and situation."
"Don't they have a way of escaping from the sub?" Bud Tidwell asked.
The Admiral turned to the Secretary of State. "Yes, sir. If the boat is resting in reasonably shallow water, they could use the escape trunk."
The President leaned on the conference table and stared at the Admiral for a few seconds. "Since we don't know the location of the sub, we don't know the depth of the water."
"Unfortunately, that's true, sir."
The Admiral moved his coffee cup to the side and looked a
t t
he President. "That's what leads me to believe the boat and all hands perished from some catastrophic incident, which could have been a torpedo. What really happened is only speculation at this point, and we may never know the truth."
A female Marine lieutenant colonel quietly eased through the entrance to the compartment and leaned near Bryce Mellongard's ear, then retraced her steps and closed the door.
All eyes focused on the Defense Secretary.
Mellongard sagged and then wanly looked up at the brooding President. "Kitty Hawk is sinking and the Captain has ordered his crew to abandon ship."
The President gave him a blank stare while the magnitude of the unfolding disaster became more clear. He was appalled at the loss of the supercarrier, and his personal self-defense mechanism took over to protect his mounting anxiety.
"Bryce," the President said with his jaw clenched, "I want another carrier in the strait as soon as possible, and I want an all-out ASW effort. Understand?"