Red Tide, стр. 79

Ryson swiveled to face her. “You were in China,” he said accusingly.

“Yes,” Kelsey said disarmingly.

“How did you get in?”

“My family has been doing business in China for nearly forty years,” Kelsey answered. “I sent a request for a meeting to the Chinese Minister of Commerce who agreed to see me.”

“And the Australian government said, ‘Okay, fine.’”

“No,” Kelsey replied. “I forgot to ask them. Why the third degree? The real reason for my visit was to meet with the head of the Hong Kong/Macau triad. Based on information from one of my father’s business contacts, I knew that the Sea Dragon was the work of a naval architect named Fai Pei.

“But, because he was aligned with ex-president Enlai, Pei wound up in prison. Imagine what he can tell us! All we have to do is get him out of China.”

Ryson felt uneasy and wasn’t sure why. “That brings us back to the triad,” Ryson said. “Aren’t they worried about retribution from the government?”

“I asked Mr. Soo about that. He said that the triads were there during the Chinese Revolution in 1949, and they will still be there long after President Lau’s death.”

“That makes sense,” Ryson said. “The Chinese always take the long view.”

“So,” Kelsey said, “I need help. Mr. Soo agreed to deliver Pei to a fishing village outside of Macau. But we have to take it from there.”

“Yes,” Ryson acknowledged. “Admiral Nathan mentioned that. We’re going to use a Chinese Type 22 missile boat. It’s undergoing repairs now.”

Kelsey’s expression brightened. “Really? How did we get one of those?”

“The Arcus managed to capture her,” Ryson replied.

“That’s wonderful,” Kelsey said excitedly. “I have a piece of equipment that could come in handy. And that’s the Chinese IFF gear on my plane.”

The fact that Kelsey had a Chinese IFF system was almost too good to be true. “And where,” Ryson wanted to know, “did you get that? On Amazon?”

“No, silly,” Kelsey replied. “The Minister of Commerce sent it to my agent in Vietnam. He was afraid my plane would get shot down otherwise.”

“Okay,” Ryson said. “I’ll send someone to get it.”

“My mechanic will take care of that,” Kelsey assured him. “It will be ready for pickup by five this evening.”

“Good,” Ryson said. “I guess we’re all set then.”

“Not quite,” Kelsey replied, as she started to unbutton her blouse. “There’s one more thing I need help with.”

***

With the need to resupply Samir Island, and the repairs to the Type 22 missile boat, the days passed quickly. And suddenly it was time to board the 22 and cast off. The voyage to China was going to cover over 2,600 miles.

Given the boat’s top speed of 34 knots, the trip would take at least three days, and require the 22 to refuel 1,300 miles out. That would involve a rendezvous with a so-called “Sea Cow” submarine—a nuclear sub equipped to refuel special ops vessels at sea.

The missile boat had a nickname by then, and was generally referred to as the “Camo Queen.” A name derived from the “disruptive” blue, gray and black camouflage pattern on the boat’s hull.

The effort to find Chinese speaking crew members had been successful. They included: Chief Engineer Ronnie Cheng–a Chinese American raised in Singapore, IT tech Norman Qwan–a member of the Australian navy, and Fire Controlman Mark Simmons–an amateur linguist.

The Camo Queen left port at 2000 hours under the cover of darkness, in hopes that she’d be able to cover 320 miles before dawn. That would put the boat a few hundred miles short of the South China Sea, where Type 22s normally prowled.

Ryson hoped the Chinese wouldn’t take notice. Allied planes were under strict orders to leave all 22s alone until noon, when the Camo Queen would be in enemy waters, and steaming north. As a further protective measure, the boat was equipped with an Allied IFF system, in addition to the Chinese unit obtained from Kelsey.

The night passed peacefully. And that was just as well, since the crewmembers were still in the process of getting to know each other and the ship’s systems.

Simmons had a label maker and the task of putting English stickers on every piece of equipment, starting with items related to propulsion, followed by weapons, and then everything else. That included the toilet in the male head, which wore a label that read, “Shitter-Male.”

Ryson managed to catch a few hours of sleep before joining Conte on the bridge as the Queen passed through the Northwest Danger Shoals. Shortly after sunrise the Queen entered the South China Sea, and Conte set a course for the village of Colane.

Regiments of white caps marched in from the north west. But, thanks to her catamaran-style hull, the Camo Queen was steadier than a hullborne PHM. And though not subject to seasickness, Ryson didn’t enjoy being knocked about, as was often the case in monohulls.

The first challenge came less than an hour later when a propeller-driven Chinese Y-9W (GX-10) early warning aircraft appeared out of the haze and circled the boat.

Like its Allied counterparts, the Y-9W was carrying a flying-saucer-shaped radome. And though unarmed Ryson knew the plane was dangerous because of its capacity to summon surface ships and jet fighters. He was quick to grab a mike. “If you don’t look Chinese stay below. If you do look Chinese go out and wave. You can bet that they’re taking pictures.”

“Contact,” Qwan said, laconically. “Switching to Mandarin.”

Since Ryson didn’t speak Chinese he had to trust Qwan to get the job done without triggering suspicions. Thanks to the Type 22’s code books, plus a crash course on Chinese radio procedure from an Australian ham radio operator, Qwan was mostly prepared for the job.

Two or three minutes of gabble ensued. Once it was over the Chinese plane waggled its wings and banked to the north. Qwan was quick to report. “The Chinese IFF system was a big help, sir. They wanted to know why our hull number wasn’t on their list.

“I told them that our boat is undergoing sea trials, and