Red Tide, стр. 62

Nathan was at least partially mollified. “Well, let’s do better next time. It’s important for us to be on the same page. Are you going to join the rest of them on the verandah?”

“No,” Ryson replied. “I’m going to crash.”

Nathan nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ryson took the elevator to the second floor, slipped the key card into the lock, and saw the indicator light turn green.

The lights were dim within. So much so that it took Ryson a moment to see the clothes puddled on the floor, and realize that Kelsey was waiting in his bed. She smiled. “Hello, sailor. It took you long enough to get here. Now strip and come to bed.”

***

Ryson awoke on time. And was halfway out of bed when Kelsey pulled him back. “Oh, no you don’t!”

What happened next took the better part of twenty minutes. And by the time Ryson had showered, shaved, and put his uniform on, he was fifteen minutes late for Haskell’s Command and Control conference. Fortunately, the meeting room was packed with officers and senior enlisted people representing half a dozen Allied countries. And outside of Nathan, who shot him a dirty look, Ryson managed to enter the room largely unnoticed.

Breakfast consisted of a danish and coffee from the back table. The only chairs available were in the back row. It soon became apparent that all of the presentations had one thing in common, and that was the need to find the Sea Dragon, and sink her.

And the overall strategy was quite simple. Locate the bitch, try to pin her down, and call for help. The problem was that, depending on the circumstances, it might take hours for help to arrive. Unless the brass hats had something special up their sleeves, that is. Like the satellite-based laser weapon which had been used to destroy the Russian cruiser Admiral Konev many months earlier.

But insofar as Ryson knew, Derringer hadn’t been used since. He wondered why. And so, as it turned out, did a navy captain from New Zealand. She not only wondered about it but was brave enough to inquire about the weapon’s status.

Haskell’s face darkened. “Suffice it to say that Derringer was destroyed by a kinetic attack from another space vehicle. I have been assured that more weapons of that sort are coming. But they aren’t likely to arrive quickly enough to solve our problem.

“That’s top secret of course. But you need to know that, if you get a crack at the Sea Dragon, there won’t be any bolt of lightning coming down from the sky.”

That was depressing, since Ryson had been secretly hoping that the laser weapon was in the mix, and might save the day.

The conference ended at noon, a flood of people left the room, and Nathan appeared. “You were late. Overslept I suppose. I expect better.”

“As you should,” Ryson said contritely. “I apologize.”

Nathan might have said more if General Haskell hadn’t joined them. “A quick word before you go,” Haskell said. “I spoke with George, and he agreed to help us with the matter we discussed last night. His daughter Kelsey will work with you to put the pieces together. I will brief the spooks so they’re in the loop. Keep me informed.” Then he was gone.

Ryson felt a mild sense of alarm. His relationship with Kelsey was growing ever more complex. It was never a good idea to mix business with pleasure. Yet that was exactly what he was doing. He forced a smile. “Congratulations, sir … Game on. You must be pleased.”

Was that too thick? Would Nathan demur? Nope. The plan had his stink on it now, and he was proud of it. “Yes, of course. It can’t hurt, eh what? Well, we need to pack up and get to the airport.”

“Yes, sir,” Ryson agreed. “But I wondered if you would accompany me on a side jaunt first. Some naval research if you like, that might pay off for us. I took the liberty of making a back-channel appointment.”

Nathan’s eyebrows rose. “An appointment? With whom? And where?”

“With the captain of the Indonesian patrol boat Nyai Roro Kidul, which means Goddess of the Sea. She’s anchored in the bay.”

Nathan eyed him. “You never stop, do you?”

Ryson tried to look innocent. “Stop what, sir?”

“Stop coming up with all sorts of harebrained schemes.”

“No, sir. I like to keep my hand in.”

“All right,” Nathan replied. “But our plane departs at three, and I intend to be on it.”

“You will be sir,” Ryson assured him. “Let’s take our bags so we won’t have to return for them.”

Thanks to an advance warning from Ryson, Lieutenant Swallow had another four-vehicle convoy waiting when they left the mansion. And after receiving instructions from Ryson, the first Bushmaster’s driver led the rest through the downtown business district, into an area dominated by warehouses, and out to the military pier.

The fact that an Australian admiral was about to inspect a lowly patrol boat created quite a stir. Salutes flew as an Indonesian Letan Satu (first lieutenant) led the visitors to a smart looking launch. It was too large to belong to the patrol boat and was most likely on loan from a destroyer.

Engines burbled as the forty-footer pulled away from the dock, and began to pick up speed. It was a nice day. And for one brief moment Ryson was enjoying himself as birds wheeled overhead, sunlight glittered on the surface of the bay, and a fisherman waved.

But the moment came to an end as the launch drew alongside the Nyai Roro Kidul where the ship’s captain was waiting to greet them. “Welcome aboard Admiral … We don’t get very many visitors. Especially those seeking advice regarding torpedoes.”

Nathan looked surprised. “Torpedoes?”

“Yes, sir,” Ryson said smoothly. “Torpedoes.”

“But why?” Nathan demanded.

“Because,” Ryson replied, “our Armindales are armed with nothing more than an auto cannon and a brace of fifties. Most boats of their size would carry missiles. But it’s a bit late for that. By mounting torpedo