Red Tide, стр. 15
So, when the victory over the Americans was announced, followed by the news that President Enlai and Premier Lau were going to be present for a military parade, Chee pulled out all the stops.
For Lieutenant Junior Grade Jev Jing, and all the personnel from the Sea Dragon, it was a proud moment as they followed the Henan’s 3,896-person crew down Sanya’s main street and past the reviewing stand where the president and the premier were seated.
Like most sailors Jing didn’t spend much time marching. As a result, the goose step, or zheng bu (straight march), was beginning to hurt by the time they passed the Yifang Shopping Mall. And from that point forward Jing was forced to grit his teeth during the rest of the two-mile-journey.
Finally, after being marched into a parking lot, the sailors were ordered to form up, threatened with all manner of punishments if they misbehaved, and released into the city.
Most made straight for the bars, restaurants, and shopping malls. Jing was the exception. His desire to get back at political officer Bohai Ang was undiminished. However, since Ang outranked him, the process would have to be circumspect. But how?
Jing wasn’t absolutely sure. But as one of the Sea Dragon’s communications officers, he knew that Ang sent an encrypted message off every three days. A uniquely encrypted message which only Ang could access.
That sort of thing was to be expected where political officers were concerned. They were spies after all, whose job it was to ferret out sailors who questioned communist doctrine, or had an affinity for western culture. That meant Ang’s reports were probably within the purview of his job.
As far as Jing had been able to ascertain from his brother officers however, the use of specially encrypted messages was specifically prohibited, lest an Allied spy use such an app to communicate with his handler. But the other Com officers were too scared to report the issue. So, what was Ang hiding?
Such were Jing’s thoughts as he rode a bus back to the Yulin naval base, cleared security, and entered the maze of passageways that led to the cavernous sub pens. And that was where the semi-submersible cruiser Sea Dragon was moored. This, Jing reasoned, is probably the only day of the year when there will be no more than ten people aboard.
Would Ang be one of them? Possibly. But Jing didn’t think so. Ang was a suck up. And as such wouldn’t be able to resist all the opportunities to mingle and kiss ass in Sanya.
Once aboard Jing made his way to the CIC, told the duty tech to take a thirty-minute break, and promised to monitor incoming radio traffic himself. The moment the tech was gone Jing checked to see which cameras covered the approaches to Ang’s cabin and turned them off.
Confident now that he could enter Ang’s tiny cabin without being seen, Jing went there, opened the door and slid inside. There was barely enough room for a bunk, some storage, and a fold down desk. A laptop was sitting on top of it.
Less than five seconds were required to install the Wi-Fi compatible keylogger which, thanks to a remote access feature, would allow Jing to track every keystroke the political officer made. The interesting stuff would be encrypted. But Jing hoped to solve that problem later.
Would Ang discover the tiny unit? And understand what it was? Maybe. But even if he did, the logger couldn’t be traced to Jing.
The moment Jing was back in the CIC he turned the surveillance cameras back on and glanced at his watch. The whole exercise had taken less than ten minutes. Jing smiled.
***
Luzon Island, the Philippines
Greer felt a tickling sensation as if something was walking across his face. His leg hurt. And, when the pilot tried to open his eyes, he couldn’t. It felt as if they were glued shut.
Greer pawed at them and tried again. Then something warm was pressed against his eyes. And when he opened them, a blurry face appeared. “There,” a voice said. “That better. No worry. Doctor coming.”
As the face came into focus Greer saw that his nurse was an old man. He had brown skin, a wrinkled countenance, and was chewing something. He turned to spit into a rusty can.
Greer struggled to form words. “Where am I?”
“You in my house,” the man answered.
Greer discovered that he could turn his head. “The house” was a hut with a thatched roof. And, when a bug fell on his face, he slapped it. “My leg, what’s wrong with it?”
“Deep wound,” the man said laconically. “Pus.”
Pus. That wasn’t good. “You said a doctor is coming.”
“Doctor Diwa come soon. Here, you drink.”
The man cupped the back of Greer’s head with one hand, while holding an ancient Pepsi bottle to his cracked lips with the other. The water was sweet and cool. “Thank you,” Greer said, as he allowed his head to fall onto a foam pillow. “My radio … I need my radio.”
“No radio,” the old man said sternly. “It bring troops. Kill you, kill me, kill everyone.”
Greer tried to get up, felt dizzy, and fell back. Something like sleep pulled him down. When he awoke it was to find that night had fallen and a different face was staring down at him. A female face with wideset eyes, a delicate nose, and full lips. “You’re black,” the woman observed.
“And good looking,” Greer said. “Is being black a problem?”
“Yes,” the woman replied. “There are relatively few black people in the Philippines, and that will make it easier for the government to find you.”
Greer remembered what the old man had said. “Kill you, kill me, kill everyone.” And that’s when he remembered the briefing. Though theoretically neutral, the Philippine government was very friendly with the Chinese. “So, they’re looking for