Shattered Trident (9 page)

“I’ve been invited to lead a seminar at Zuoying Naval Yard next week.” He paused. “After the conference.”

“It’s a good time to speak to them. We will know so much more. And right before you go, there’s a microbrewery here in Tokyo you should visit. Admiral Wu Chen loves their Kenji Weizen.”

24 August 2016

By Water

Halifax, Nova Scotia

He’d moved to the house in Purcell’s Cove ten years ago, paying far too much, but it was unthinkable to be away from the water. It hadn’t been in the best shape when he bought it, and since then he’d fixed what he could by himself, and let the rest age gracefully.

Hector Alexander McMurtrie didn’t care what the outside of the house looked like, and he cared even less about the yard. He’d dealt with the neighbors’ complaints by planting evergreens, which had eventually blocked the view, except toward the ocean.

“Mac” left the kitchen, which also doubled as the dining room, and headed for his office at the other end of the house. He passed what could have been a formal dining room but was instead filled with filing cabinets. They lined two walls, while shelves above them were filled with ship models and nautical memorabilia. Prints and nautical charts covered every patch of wall space above chest level. The hallway was similarly decorated.

He shuffled past the first bedroom, where he actually slept, lined with bookshelves, and entered what should have been the master bedroom but was instead his office.

The house was sited on a low rise, and built so that bay windows in the kitchen and master bedroom faced the water. Mac didn’t see any reason for spending his time with his eyes closed in the room with the best view of the ocean.

The shelf formed by the large bay window held his favorite relics and models: a Hog Islander his father had helped him build when he was thirteen, a small piece of the merchant ship
Mont-Blanc
, shattered in the 1917 explosion, several seashells, and other treasures, none of them tall enough to block the view.

He stood looking out for several moments, gauging the weather. Clear, with thin high stratus. A pair of binoculars sat in one corner of the window shelf, but there was nothing on the horizon to look at.

His desk, secondhand when he bought it, faced the blank wall next to the bay. All Mac had to do was turn his head to the left and he could check to see if the ocean was still there. The desk was extended on either side by folding tables. One was loaded with printers, a server box, and a wide-bed scanner, while the other was covered with papers and reference books. Behind him a bookcase had been divided into cubbyholes, each labeled and holding a project, some urgent, and some waiting years for the right moment.

Bookshelves filled the available wall space, prints and photos and maps covered the walls, and ship models and assorted maritime knickknacks occupied every horizontal surface.

Taking a large sip from his third cup of coffee, Mac was ready to get to work, although he hardly thought of it as such. Twelve years ago, when the Irving Shipbuilding Company had offered early retirement, he’d jumped at it. Now, on the high side of sixty, his second career kept him typing ten or twelve hours a day, more if he wanted. It felt like he’d always done it this way, as if being a naval architect had just helped prepare him for his real occupation.

As he’d expected, the electronic inbox was full. E-mails from friends and associates all over the world passed on bits of information on naval and merchant ships, or asked questions about naval technology. Some sent images, others brought new work: requests for two book reviews just this morning, an offer of collaboration on a photo book, and a request for an article on steam-powered reciprocating propulsion plants. That was one of his specialties.

It was his own fault. Thirty years ago, he’d started a computer bulletin board on GEnie with his own mix of naval news, opinion, and outright bias. That had evolved into “Bywater’s Blog,” named in honor of another naval writer, Hector C. Bywater. It was also a play on words, since the mailbox in front of his home read
BY WATER
.

Because he was usually right, and often insightful, he’d attracted more and more readers, who had provided more and more information. Part of the fun was not just reading the latest gossip, but adding a piece, or two, to the jigsaw puzzle. One of Mac’s smarter ideas had been to include the amount of new information contributed to the membership statistics. Now other naval writers, sailors from navies and the merchant service, and hundreds of enthusiasts competed to send him information.

His digital empire included an online database and daughter blogs on warship developments, shipbuilding, and maritime losses. The spinoffs had greatly improved the readability of his daily blog, but had also doubled, or even tripled, the amount of e-mail he had to answer.

From: MerchantMan

To: Maritime Losses

Subj: Vinaship Sea

I’m updating merchant ship losses.
Vinaship Sea,
sailed 17 Aug 16 from Ho Chi Minh City to Osaka Japan with cargo of coal, listed as lost by the owner 20 Aug. No cause of loss given. Do you have any info on other ships lost to coal dust explosions in the last twenty years?

“Last twenty years?” snorted Mac with amusement. “Try the last hundred.”

“MerchantMan” was the handle for one of his longtime correspondents, a real-life merchant sailor who helped keep his database up to date. He’d know the answer to the coal dust question as well as Mac, but he was trying to rule out a theory.

Mac began his digital excavation. When steamships had used coal for fuel, the dust could mix with the air in dangerous concentrations. Explosions weren’t common, but they weren’t unheard of, either. It was suspected as the true cause for the loss of USS
Maine
in Havana in 1898, and as a contributing factor to the loss of several warships in World War I.

But the precautions against coal dust were well known, and Mac could find no ship lost to that cause since 1937. Probably not coal dust, then. But then why had she disappeared?

He called up the news reports of the loss. The media said that search planes had found nothing along her planned route, which was a well-traveled shipping lane. There had been no distress calls, which would be consistent with an explosion. The weather had been good, both for the search and for several days before. There were no navigational hazards along her route, which was well known and traveled daily by dozens of other ships.

Naval lore was littered with mysterious losses, some resolved decades later, but many still with secrets known only to the sea. Mac started typing.

From: Mac

To: Maritime Losses

Subj: Loss of Vinaship Sea

Vinaship Sea,
bound from Ho Chi Minh City to Osaka, Japan, lost to unknown causes. No survivors. Possibilities:

1) Navigational error brought her to grief.

2) Progressive flooding from unknown cause.

3) Sudden explosion from unknown cause.

4) Hijacked and now sailing under a different name.

Please send any news of unusual sightings in the South China Sea from 17–20 August, including explosions, wrecks, unidentified vessels.

Sending the e-mail, he reflected for a moment, then wrote a short piece on
Vinaship Sea
for his daily blog. He described her disappearance, the lack of explanations for it, and pumped up the mystery as much as his conscience allowed. Then he asked for information, or suggestions that would resolve this “newest mystery of the sea.”

Mac hit the “Return” key and checked his watch. Half an hour for one e-mail. He’d have to do better than that if he was going to get any time to work on the book review.

25 August 2016

Tokyo University, Waseda Campus

Hongo, Bunkyo Ward, Tokyo

In the end, they’d just placed a table at the front for Komamura and his assistants, while the delegations from Vietnam, South Korea, and Japan occupied three tables in a single row. Each admiral had brought only one aide, an intelligence specialist, and a translator. Komamura felt the absence of India and Taiwan, but it couldn’t be helped, he told himself.

The Japanese support staff, heavily biased toward security personnel, outnumbered the attendees, and Komamura did his best to keep them out of sight. The Japanese were hosting the meeting, but this was not supposed to be a Japanese event, or a Japanese-led alliance.

There were no flags, no nameplates, and most strikingly, no uniforms. No one had objected to wearing civilian clothes, but all three delegations had asked about a dress code, so everyone had shown up in business suits. The South Koreans even had matching ties.

Admiral Park Uchin was visibly the youngest of the three naval leaders, and had been Chief of Naval Operations for the ROK Navy for only six months. He’d only met with Komamura once, and in very cloak-and-dagger surroundings, at a bench in Pusan’s Yongdusan Park. “I’m required to report anything more than ‘casual contact’ with foreigners to counterintelligence,” Park had explained. “I’m exercising my discretion in what is considered casual contact.”

Komamura was surprised. “Are you that worried about the reliability of your own intelligence people?”

“Nobody knows about this, except people I’ve known personally for many years, and of course, my superiors,” Park insisted. “The enemy is just a little distance to the north, and China just beyond. I am taking no chances.

“But it’s worth the risks,” Park continued. “We’ve got our hands full just dealing with the north. Someday, maybe soon, Kim’s regime will fall, rotten and weak from its own corruption. We will have a moment’s opportunity to unify our country, but few think it will be as peaceful as Germany.

“A dominant China will not help our cause. Better the Americans, or your alliance if the Americans are too weak. When the crisis comes, we stand a better chance of success with friends at our side.”

*   *   *

The “conference” had begun with the formal signing of the document creating the Littoral Alliance. It was short, just two pages, and only three copies were made. Hidden like the rest of the alliance, each copy would be kept in the owner’s safe until it was necessary to reveal its existence.

After a quick toast with rice wine, the admirals had listened to an intelligence brief, given by Commander Ty of the Vietnamese delegation. The three intelligence officers attending the conference, assisted by extremely small staffs, would serve as the group’s intelligence arm. No one nation would command or lead the alliance. Instead temporary commanders would be appointed for specific tasks, depending on need and availability.

After reporting the Chinese Navy’s status, Ty described the search for
Vinaship Sea
. Nearby merchant ships had reported an explosion and debris consistent with her projected position. There had been no sign of her crew of twenty-two. The Vietnamese shipping company had not linked those reports to
Vinaship Sea
. Instead, false positions reports, filed by the Vietnamese shipping company since her sailing from Ho Chi Minh City, had placed the freighter one hundred nautical miles northwest of Luzon when she “disappeared.”

“While a formal investigation is under way, Chinese retaliation for the mining of
Liaoning
is the most likely possibility. Questions?”

Admiral Kubo smiled. “You phrased that last sentence very carefully, Commander, but is there any other possible explanation?”

Ty raised his hands helplessly. “We have no proof of any cause, only the fact of her sudden loss, and the timing. None of us believe this is a coincidence,” he said, looking at the other intelligence officers, who nodded their agreement.

“If they’ve managed to trace the mining of
Liaoning
back to Vietnam, then the alliance is already in jeopardy.” Admiral Park did not speak casually. They’d all been briefed on the basic facts of
Vinaship Sea
’s loss days ago. The Korean admiral was challenging the entire idea of covert cooperation. “How long can we act without retaliation against one or all of us? We can share intelligence, and even conduct surveillance, but an alliance in more than name demands action, and that will be the start of a war we cannot win.”

Komamura, in the front of the room, broke in to the discussion. “I agree. Even acting together, we are too weak to challenge China’s military strength. Even with America on our side, the issue would be in doubt. And the destruction and economic cost would be catastrophic.”

Komamura paused for a minute. Admiral Park looked unhappy, even though Komamura had just agreed with him, but Admiral Hieu motioned to the other Vietnamese and tilted his head slightly toward the Japanese table. Kubo seemed unconcerned. The Vietnamese officer stated, “And you have a plan.”

“Yes, Admiral, I do. I am only hesitating because I’ve never commanded a ship or even worn a uniform, and yet I’m standing before the heads of three navies. Please excuse my presumptuousness, but I believe the key is an asymmetric attack, matching our strength against the Chinese weakness.”

“Our submarines,” Hieu answered.

“Yes,” Komamura confirmed. “Your attack on
Liaoning
was possible because your navy has first-line subs, and Chinese anti-submarine warfare is poor at best. In spite of the escort vessels patrolling outside the harbor, your captain was able to penetrate their screen, lay his mines, and withdraw without being detected.”

Gesturing to the other two admirals, Komamura continued, “Japan and South Korea also have first-class submarine arms, at least one and often two generations ahead of their PLAN equivalents. Admiral Kubo has said that the
Soryu
class, even though it is conventionally powered, would have several advantages over even the Chinese nuclear boats, including quieting, sensors, and weapons.” Kubo silently nodded his agreement.

“I agree,” Park declared. He stood and bowed slightly toward the professor. “This shows great insight. Between our three countries, we can blockade almost every Chinese naval base and catch other units at sea.” His expression had changed completely, his face now alight with the idea. “We can deploy covertly and coordinate our first attacks. Perhaps we can time them to catch
Liaoning
as they tow it from Yulin to Dalian, and finish her off. We can inflict tremendous damage on the PLAN in the first twenty-four hours. They won’t feel safe outside their own harbors, much less the South China Sea. The shock to their navy, to their leadership, would be tremendous.”