TSUNAMI STORM (13 page)

“It won’t be as difficult as you think. The attack will look like a natural event – a natural disaster. You respond to it on that basis only. If we don’t escalate the conflict, it won’t come to a nuclear war.”

“What, in the mind of the Chinese would constitute an escalation?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I wouldn’t kill any more Chinese people, or attack anything Chinese. That could easily be interpreted as an escalation.”

“I don’t really have any control over that. The Secretary of Defense does.”

“I know,” he replied. “He’s been here. I told him the same thing.”

“And?”

He shrugged again. “It’s out of my hands. I have given you my best strategic opinion. What you guys do with it is up to you.”

Dolphin Beach, Oregon

Willa walked the streets of Dolphin Beach deep in thought. Her sister’s bill had passed both houses and the President had quickly signed it into law. People had adjusted to not having some things as the economy gradually shifted away from products made in China.

It had been a month since Jason was here. The blue chalk arrows from the evacuation practice had disappeared. Dolphin Beach was mostly back to normal: The tourists had filled the Ocean Grand Hotel and only a few of the B & B’s had any rooms left. All in all, through the ups and downs, it was still going to be a decent year.

Members of the city council had gathered and their monthly meeting was about to start. Willa would be there and she knew what she had to do. She walked confidently into the room and called the meeting to order. After the committee reports had been read and old business completed, Willa made her pitch.

“Despite the complications we had last month, the practice evacuation was a success. Participation was over 60% and I have received many positive comments about the blue arrows that marked the evacuation route. While we have six signs marking the general evacuation route, we now know that the route for individual people is going to be different, and with the probability of dead ends, the blue arrows were the one thing that made the entire process clear in everyone’s mind. The blue chalk markings have since worn away. I know how to get out of my house and which way to go and I think all of you do, too. But what happens if we need to evacuate next year, or three years from now, or even ten years down the road? Will we all remember then?”

The city council members looked connected to her line of reasoning, so she continued. “What I propose, is that while the memory of where the blue arrows were is still fresh in our minds, we make the blue arrows a permanent part of our streets. We can paint the blue arrows just like the chalk arrows were placed. That way none of us has to remember which way to go. We just follow the blue arrows.”

“Kind of like Dorothy and the yellow brick road in the Wizard of Oz?” Mr. Jenkins asked. At 81, he was the oldest member of the city council. Willa smiled at the reference to the old movie.

“Yes,” Willa replied. “Just like Dorothy, but instead of a yellow brick road, we follow the blue arrows. The same color blue that is already on the evacuation signs.”

“There’s no money in the budget for an expense like this,” a council member said.

“Actually, there is,” Willa replied. “After Frank Gillis disrupted our evacuation practice, he paid a heavy fine to the city. We have enough money to at least pay for the paint.”

“But what about the labor? That’ll be the most expensive part of the project,” another council member said.

“Yeah,” another agreed. “That part we can’t afford.”

“What if I can get volunteers to do the painting?” Willa asked.

The city council members quickly discussed the matter and made their decision. “If you can find the volunteers for the labor, we’ll spend the money on the paint.”

“All in favor?” Willa asked. They all raised their hands. “Resolution adopted.”

* * *

Since Jason’s presentation the local hardware store had gone through four large shipments of half-inch galvanized steel pipe, cut into two foot lengths. Now volunteers were stripping the hardware store out of small rollers, while the City of Dolphin Beach was paying for 5 gallon buckets of enamel paint, tinted to what was now known as tsunami blue.

Willa, holding Jason’s original drawings, supervised the location of every tsunami blue arrow on the streets of Dolphin Beach. Several tourists had taken photos of the whole process and created humorous videos which were then placed on the Internet.

* * *

Frank Gillis stormed into Willa’s office and screamed, “You’re shaming our town. You and this stupid tsunami thing are now a national disgrace. How could you be so stupid? Actually you’re not only stupid, you’re INCOMPETENT.”

Willa backed into the corner of her office, glancing out through the glass windows into the main reception area of the City Office, hoping that Chief Dolan was on his way to rescue her. But that was not to be. Frank continued his tirade until he was finally interrupted by Gladys from the Dolphin Beach Chamber of Commerce.

“What’s going on?” Gladys asked, giving Frank a vicious look.

“Frank thinks I’ve brought shame on Dolphin Beach by painting the blue arrows on our streets,” Willa replied.

Gladys glanced down at the piece of paper she held and looked straight at Frank. “We’ve been friends for years, Frank, but I have to side with Willa on this one.”

“Did you see what she has done?” Frank yelled. “Her and her blue arrows are all over the Internet. Dolphin Beach is now the laughing stock of the country.”

“As I said, Frank, I have to side with Willa,” Gladys replied. She handed a copy of the report to Willa, who handed it to Frank after she read it.

“Internet inquiries for everything about Dolphin Beach are coming in so fast, we can’t respond to them in a timely manner. We’ve even booked a few more rooms as a result of the inquiries. It looks to me as if this is a good thing for Dolphin Beach.”

Frank crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it at Willa, bouncing it off her shoulder as she tried to duck. He turned and stomped out of the office, slamming the door on his way out. Gladys turned to Willa. “Honey, you just have to give him some time to calm down. Once he starts getting more reservations for his hotel, he’ll feel better.”

Hainan, China

Guang Xi accompanied Junior General Fong on a military flight south to the island of Hainan. They traveled by van to the Navy Base near the city of Sanya. Guang Xi had expected to see a sprawling Naval Base; instead the only thing visible was the main guard gate and a single road leading to a tunnel entrance in the side of a small mountain. The tunnel was dark and tipped sharply down once they entered. As they continued moving down, the tunnel curved sharply to the left. They emerged into a large underground submarine base with a wide, deep canal running out toward the sea.

The driver of the van stopped at a two-part draw bridge and handed a set of papers to the guard on duty. After reviewing the papers the guard walked over to a small guard house and entered. The draw bridge slowly lowered providing access to the other side of the canal. The guard came back out and motioned for them to cross. Once the van had crossed the canal and turned right, the draw bridge was raised again. The van entered another tunnel and traveled a short distance until encountering another canal. They followed the same routine with another draw bridge, another tunnel, and arrived at a third canal. The van traveled left again until it reached the end of the canal.

The refitted Russian Alfa class submarine was painted a medium gray so as to blend in with the lighter blue color of the Pacific Ocean. No numbers or any other markings were on the sub to tie it to China. Subs operating near the Polar Regions on the other hand, were painted black, since, due to the angle of the sun in the sky, less light penetrated the colder waters.

Guang Xi worked his way down the main hatch ladder and into the dining area of the sub. He was anxious to see the mines as he used his crutches to navigate the narrow passageways through the control room, the radio and sonar rooms and the officer quarters until he reached the torpedo room.

“These are the torpedo tubes,” the Captain explained. “This is where the mines will be pushed out into the sea.”

Guang Xi looked at the arrangement. The two lower tubes were only a few inches from the floor while the upper tubes were just above eye level with the center tubes located halfway in between. “And these are loaded how?”

The Captain pointed to a complex system of I-beam rails that ran along the ceiling with trollies and block and tackle sets hanging from them. “All of the mines and torpedoes are very heavy,” the Captain explained. “We lift them with the pulleys and guide them into the tubes. The pulleys mounted on the forward bulkhead are used to pull them into the tubes. The doors are then closed, the tubes flooded with water, the outer doors opened and then the torpedo or mine is ejected with water pressure.”

Thirty-five mini-nuke mines and eight torpedoes crowded the small torpedo room. The torpedoes were chained to their curved support brackets on the side walls, four on each side. The mines were bolted to steel frames so they wouldn’t move around during operations of the sub. The only clear places were the two main pathways directly in front of the torpedo tubes. Everywhere else was full of mines or related equipment. Guang Xi ran his hand over each of the mines, imagining the destruction they would wreak on the country that had destroyed his life.

Captain Hu Xiao calmly watched Guang Xi as he examined the mines. The artificial skin had taken root on Guang Xi’s body and was now mostly a normal flesh color. He still had very little hair and no ears to speak of. He didn’t hear as well as before, but if he concentrated, he could keep up with conversations. He turned and tried to smile at the Captain, but the new skin was not as responsive as his old skin. This was partially due to the damage done to the underlying muscles. The new skin gave his face a boney look due to the loss of muscle tissue and the fat padding that would normally be under the facial skin.

“How long until we leave?” Guang Xi asked.

The Captain checked his watch. “Another fourteen hours. It will be dark when we depart. The Americans have a lot of satellites watching the movement of ships. There will be a one-hour gap in their coverage. We will use that gap to leave the tunnel system. We have made arrangements to travel under a large cargo freighter while we are in shallow water. That will prevent the Americans from detecting us on their infra-red satellites until we can get to deeper water.”

“And how long until we get to the Cascadia Subduction Zone?”

“Six and a half to seven days. One of my men has delivered your things to your stateroom. Would you like to see it?” Guang Xi nodded and started moving back into the officers’ quarters. The Captain led the way and opened the door to Guang Xi’s room. “Normally there would be two people to a room, but we are running with a small crew of fifteen, so you will have this room to yourself.”

The room was six feet deep and eight feet wide with a bed built into the wall. A narrow closet was at the foot of the bed with three drawers underneath. There was also a drawer under the bed for additional storage. To the left of the door a small desk had been built into the wall with a fold-down seat. It was small, but cozy.

“Very nice,” Guang Xi said.

The Captain bowed slightly. “Lunch will be served in the dining room in half an hour. It will give you a chance to meet the rest of the crew. I hope you will join us,”

“Of course,” Guang Xi replied, his mind still focused on the mission ahead.

* * *

After lunch Guang Xi took a nap in his stateroom. The trip down to Hainan Island had been exhausting. After dinner he returned to his stateroom to review the operating instructions on the mini-nuke mines. He went over his calculations once again, as well. Everything must be exactly correct for this plan to have maximum effectiveness, and Guang Xi was relentless about details. That is what elevated him to the research position with Dr. Huang and ultimately placed him on the Longmenshan Fault where America destroyed his life. The perfection of his plan for revenge rested in the exacting details of the placement of the mines and the timing of the detonations. The seismic signature would be indistinguishable from a natural event. He had made sure of that.

At midnight activity picked up significantly on the sub. The nuclear power plant had been running hot for the last six hours and steam was coursing through the turbine that generated the electricity, powering the submarine. Guang Xi entered the control room as final preparations were completed to begin their voyage to the Cascadia Subduction Zone and the punishment of America. Oddly, all the lights in the control room were red in color.

“Where’s the Captain?” Guang Xi asked.

The Executive Officer pointed up the ladder that went to the conning tower. “He said you should join him if you felt up to the climb.”

Guang Xi pulled himself slowly up the ladder. The climb was actually in two sections. The first section was identical to the ladder in the dining room where he first entered the sub, and ended on the main hull of the sub. There was a hatch door that opened to the left and a small landing on the right. Another ladder extended up from the landing to the platform built into the conning tower. He rested for a minute and then continued his climb to the top. The Captain extended his hand and helped pull Guang Xi to a standing position.

The sub was tied to the side of the canal, leaving enough room for another sub to pass by in the wide canal. The lights that illuminated the tunnel had changed. Where the overhead lights had been a bright white before, everything was now bathed in red.

“Why the red lights?” Guang Xi asked.

“It’s dark outside,” the Captain replied. “The red light allows our eyes to adapt to the darkness giving us night vision.”

“Interesting,” Guang Xi replied.

“I thought you might find it so.”

Until now the sub had been powered by a large electric cable that rose out of a rear hatch on the top of the sub and plugged into a distribution box on the side of the canal. As the generator onboard the sub came up to speed, an electrician’s mate began reading off the phase angle between the generator and the shore power. The phase angles had to match exactly for the sub to switch from external power to its own internal power system. If not exactly the same, switching the power system over could result in a huge electrical spike which would damage the equipment.

The Captain was standing next to Guang Xi on the small platform embedded within the top of the conning tower. The Captain was wearing head phones, listening to the ready state of his submarine.

“Stable at zero degrees,” the electrician’s mate reported. His voice came through the Captain’s headphones, but was audible also through a metallic speaker mounted in the platform area.

“Bring our generator on line and disconnect from shore power,” the Captain ordered.

“Under our own power,” the electrician’s mate reported.

“Disconnect from shore power,” the Captain ordered. He pointed to the sailor standing on the side of the canal, then waved his hand across his throat in a cutting gesture. The sailor standing next to the shore power distribution box pulled down the main lever on the box, disconnecting power from the heavy cable running into the sub. He pulled the plug and walked the cable across the metal walkway as another sailor fed the cable down into the rear hatch. A small crane lifted the metal walkway into the air and swung it over onto the side of the road next to the canal. The nylon mooring lines were unwound from the large cleats on the edge of the canal and tossed to the sailors for storage in sections under the top deck of the sub. With the lines properly stored the two remaining sailors climbed down the rear hatch and closed the hatch door.

The Captain checked forward and aft to make sure everything was clear of his sub.

“Five degrees left rudder, ahead dead slow,” he ordered.

Guang Xi watched as the sub slowly started to move forward, inching away from the side of the canal. As the sub came closer to the other side of the canal the Captain ordered, “Five degrees right rudder.” The sub’s course straightened out and the Captain ordered, “Zero degrees rudder.”

The sub moved slowly past several other subs tied to the right side of the canal. The tunnel opening gradually appeared in front of them as they approached the open sea. Finally the sub emerged from the tunnel into the harbor area east of Sanya. The city lights sparkled to the right and ships moved in various directions as the busy port continued its operations. A signal light flashed in short and longer pulses from a large freighter to their left.

“That’s our cover ship,” the Captain said. He picked up a long flashlight hanging from his belt and signaled back. The freighter slowly began to move to the left. As the sub came into alignment with the back of the freighter the Captain ordered, “Fifteen degrees left rudder, come to course 090 and prepare to dive.” The Captain extended his arm to the open hatch. “Time to get below.”

Guang Xi made his way down the ladder to the first landing and then down the second ladder into the control room with the Captain behind him. The Captain closed the hatch door and spun the wheel to engage the steel fingers that held the door closed. The crew was busy operating the controls, pushing buttons and checking lights and gauges. The Captain watched the main light board as lights turned from red to green. As the last light turned green the XO standing in the middle of the control room reported, “Green board, Sir, rigged for dive.”

“Very well,” the Captain replied, “Make your depth sixty feet.”

A warning horn sounded, letting everyone on the ship know it was about to dive. “Vent main ballast,” the XO said. Even through the thick Titanium hull, Guang Xi could hear the rush of air under pressure escaping the outer tanks and the water rushing in to take its place. The sub sank down into the water and stabilized at the requested sixty-foot depth.

“Raise periscope,” the Captain said.

A sailor operated a lever and the periscope rose from the hole in the round platform where the Captain stood. As the bottom of the periscope came to chest level the Captain lowered the handles of the periscope, put his eyes to the eyepiece and turned in a circle covering the full 360 degrees around the sub.

“Care to have a look?” the Captain asked Guang Xi. “This is the last chance to see the outer world until our mission is over.”

Guang Xi hopped up on the round platform, grabbed the handles and looked through the eyepiece. Toward the front was the rear end of the freighter. High up on its mast were a set of lights, red on the far left, green on the far right and a small white light low and in the center. He swung around in a slow circle with only darkness where the open sea beckoned. Behind them the lights of the city glittered and wavered as if saying good bye. Having seen enough, Guang Xi folded the handles of the periscope up and stepped back. The Captain nodded and the sailor shifted the lever and lowered the periscope back down into its storage well. The Captain checked his watch. “American satellite coverage will resume in fifteen minutes; time to make ourselves invisible. Make your depth 300 feet and bring us directly under the freighter,” the Captain ordered.

“Making depth 300 feet, directly under the freighter, Sir,” the XO answered.

“We will be under the freighter for the next day and a half until we reach deep water, then we can go deeper and increase our speed,” the Captain said.

Guang Xi seemed puzzled. “Isn’t deeper water denser? How can we go faster in denser water?”

“Cavitation,” the Captain answered. “When the prop turns too fast in the water it creates vacuum bubbles that make a lot of noise when they collapse. The denser the water, the faster we can turn the prop without creating cavitation. At a thousand feet down, we can run at 30 knots without cavitation.”