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The seas were calm, and it took Yu’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the dawn’s sun. He would have preferred to surface at night, but it would have made this operation much more difficult.
Yu didn’t think there was much risk of being spotted. He’d selected this point specifically because it was so isolated. They were far from any shipping lanes, and U.S. satellites wouldn’t be looking in this region of the ocean a thousand miles from the nearest land.
The executive officer joined him on the deck, and Yu said, “What does the traffic look like?”
“According to the marine tracking system, the closest vessel is the containership Lookout Bay one hundred twenty miles north of us. It won’t pass within fifty miles of this place.”
“Good,” Yu replied, pleased with his choice
of location. “Maneuver us alongside the tanker.”
The Wuzong eased up to the oiler on the last of its battery charge. The sub was a Type 039A Yuan-class diesel-electric boat with air-independent propulsion, meaning it could operate for long periods underwater without snorkeling to provide air to the engines. Its design made it much quieter than a nuclear sub. Its batteries were virtually silent, while a nuclear power plant’s coolant pumps had to always be running to prevent meltdowns.
The disadvantage was its range. A nuclear sub could circumnavigate the earth multiple times before the reactor fuel had to be replaced, but diesel fuel eventually ran out.
The Wuzong had been running on fumes for two days before the tanks finally emptied the morning of the day before, and the batteries were draining at a rapid rate. It was a huge risk, crossing the entire Pacific in a sub intended for guarding the Chinese coastline, but it was one Yu had been willing to take for this mission.
This operation was well outside the People’s Liberation Army Navy chain of command. It was a covert mission, and he’d handpicked the crew himself, all volunteers. They knew what they were signing up for, that if they were discovered or captured, they’d all be sent to reeducation camps as mutineers and traitors. Yu was protecting his superiors, and his own beloved service record, giving them all plausible deniability if things went badly.
He didn’t have the authority to redirect a nuclear attack sub for this operation, but he did have enough clout to take command of a diesel-electric boat. He’d been a sub commander for decades before transferring to headquarters in Beijing, but he’d arranged this mission after he was contacted by Zachariah Tate and given evidence that could finally let him exact revenge for his brother’s death.
Years ago, Yu Tien was the commander of the destroyer Chengdo, which was sunk under mysterious circumstances. Jiang and Tien had been close, enlisting in the Navy together and competing to see who could rise fastest through the ranks, Tien in surface warfare, Jiang in the submarine force.
Tien had been a brilliant commander, so Jiang was shocked and devastated to learn that the Chengdo had gone down. It had been last reported overtaking a cargo ship to launch a boarding party for inspection, and then it simply disappeared. It took six months to find the remains of the ship, which was riddled with holes from missiles, torpedoes, and gunfire.
It was long rumored that the cargo ship had inflicted the damage, which seemed absurd to Yu, but he investigated it all the same and came up with nothing. The tramp steamer had seemingly vanished into myth.
Then Tate had come along and shown him documentation that a spy ship called the Oregon was responsible. It was under the command of a former CIA officer named Juan Cabrillo, Tate’s ex-partner.
Yu confirmed that a man and ship of the same description had departed Hong Kong just before the Chengdo was sunk in the South China Sea. He believed Tate’s allegation. His subsequent proposal was too tempting for Yu to pass up. He would finally get revenge for his brother and at the same time acquire a new sonic weapon for the Chinese military.
All he had to do was help Tate sink the Oregon.
The Wuzong stopped next to the tanker, which loomed like a skyscraper over the low-slung sub. Its crew members swung a fuel line over on a boom, and the sub’s sailors quickly attached it to begin pumping diesel into its empty tanks.
“Admiral,” the XO, the executive officer, said with a smile as he lowered a radio, “the captain of the tanker says they have fresh fruit and fish to transfer over.”
“Excellent,” Yu said. “Give my thanks to the captain.” He thought that would definitely help morale after two weeks of rice and canned vegetables.
A small crane lowered crates onto the deck, where they were greedily unpacked and passed down the hatch by his happy crew.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly until his XO turned to him with alarm.
“Admiral, the tanker has spotted a sailboat two miles out. Apparently, it’s so small that their radar didn’t pick it up until a minute ago.”
Yu cursed his luck. If the sailboat reported seeing a Chinese sub this far south in the Pacific, it would surely draw notice from the U.S. Navy, which would alert its allies in South America.
“What direction is it heading?” Yu asked.
“North. It passed Cape Horn on a round-the-world trip, and it’s now heading for Easter Island. At its current speed, we’ll see it in less than ten minutes.”
The huge tanker was currently shielding them from view, but the sailboat’s course would allow its crew to spot the Wuzong as soon as it went by the tanker’s stern.
Yu had a decision to make. If he had to sink the sailboat, it would be missed, but it wouldn’t guarantee that the captain hadn’t called in a report on the sub.
Better not to take any chances, not when he’d traveled eight thousand miles for his vengeance.
“How much fuel have we loaded?”
