Red Tide, стр. 78
“There’s been no sign of the Sea Dragon in weeks. And General Haskell wants to know where the bitch is hiding. The NRO doesn’t know. The CIA doesn’t have a clue. And we sure as hell don’t know. But now I have something to push back with. I mean there you were, just short of Mischief Reef, searching a Type 22 for Intel! That should shut Haskell up for a week or so. Here you go, one gin and tonic, with a squeeze of lime.”
“Thank you,” Ryson said, accepting the glass. “How about Kelsey? And the effort to create ad hoc intelligence networks?”
“That’s another success story,” Nathan said, as he took a seat. “And another reason for Haskell to be happy. Our girl was able to recruit the owner of a large fishing fleet and a Vietnamese cigarette smuggler. Both of whom stand a good chance of spotting the Dragon.
“There was a bit of a dustup in Yangon however, where Kelsey and her bodyguards found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, and wound up in a firefight.”
Ryson opened his mouth but Nathan interrupted. “No worries. Kelsey and her lot fought their way out. The man they hoped to meet with wasn’t so lucky. He’s dead.
“But enough of that,” Nathan said dismissively. “Guess where our girl is now?”
Ryson sipped his drink. The gin was ice cold and felt good on the back of his throat. “Having her nails done?”
“Of course not,” Nathan replied. “She’s in China! Macau to be exact. Don’t ask me how she got in. Or made contact with a triad leader. But she did!
“And here’s the best part … It will cost us some money, but the triad is going to break a man out of prison for her. Not just any man, but the naval architect generally credited for the Sea Dragon’s revolutionary design. Imagine the things he could tell us! Haskell will be over the moon.”
“There’s a catch though,” Nathan added darkly. “The rescue is slated to take place in two weeks. And Kelsey has to bring her man out by boat. My first thought was a hydrofoil. But that’s absurd. The Chinese would never allow a PHM to reach the coast. Never mind survive the return journey.”
“You’re right, sir,” Ryson replied while Nathan sipped his drink. “And a civilian boat wouldn’t have the means to defend itself. But how ‘bout the Type 22?”
Nathan stared. “Oh, my god, that’s brilliant! Haskell would love that!”
“I’m going to need a new bow gun though,” Ryson said. “Plus, some Chinese speaking crew members and a submarine. Given how important this man is, it would make sense to get him off the 22 as quickly as possible.”
“We’ll get cracking in the morning,” Nathan said. “Meet me for brekky at 0800.”
Once in his cabin Ryson took the kind of long, hot shower that was impossible on a Peg 2, and went to bed. By getting up early he was able to drink half a pot of coffee before the breakfast with Nathan.
To his credit Nathan arrived at breakfast with a crucial piece of information. “The Indonesians use AK-630 automatic cannons on some of their vessels,” Nathan announced. “And by promising a certain officer a bottle of rare Orphan Barrel, Muckety-Muck, single-grain Scotch, I managed to secure one. Of course, a gin drinking heathen such as yourself has no idea how special that is.”
“True,” Ryson agreed, as he ate a bite of bacon. “I assume we’re going to inspect the gun before paying the bribe.”
“It isn’t a bribe,” Nathan insisted. “It’s a gift.”
“Okay,” Ryson said. “Let’s grab a gunner’s mate, and take a look, before delivering the ‘gift.’”
With a chief gunner’s mate in tow, the officers took a trip across the bay, where an Indonesian kolonel was waiting to greet them. He was clearly curious regarding their need for an AK-630 but knew better than to ask a direct question.
“It’s a good system,” Kolonel Pra assured them, as they followed a yellow line deeper into the navy supply depot. “It can be used against incoming missiles, aircraft, and enemy ships. We bought ours from Russia.”
Once they arrived Ryson saw that the weapon, turret and all, was sitting on a pallet. The next thirty minutes were spent waiting for Chief Wright to inspect the weapon. He finished by saying, “It has some wear, but not much. I think it’s good to go.”
Nathan opened his briefcase and withdrew a bottle which he handed to Pra. “This is in recognition of your many years of service to the Indonesian navy. Chief Wright and some of his people will return later today.”
From the Indonesian base the launch went straight to the hidden moorage under the warehouse. The Fractus was in port, which meant commanding officer Lieutenant Mark Conte was as well, and available to take charge of the Type 22.
That involved putting the new 30mm auto cannon in place, rounding up Chinese speaking crew members, and training them. There were multiple mechanical, as well as electronic systems to master, including those associated with the ship’s missile launchers. Conte eyed Ryson when the list of to-dos was complete. “Can I command her?”
Ryson grinned. “No. But I’m going to need an XO.”
Conte nodded. “I’m in. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Once aboard the Agger Ryson had no choice but to tackle the stack of paperwork, both electronic and real, which awaited him. And that’s where he was, a pot of coffee at his elbow, when a knock came at the door. Maids came and went all the time so Ryson shouted “Come in!” without turning to look. Arms slithered around his neck and a face nuzzled his cheek. Ryson recognized the perfume. He turned to accept a kiss. “Kelsey … How did you get here?”
“I have a