Warshot (The Hunter Killer Series Book 6) by Don Keith (dark books to read TXT) 📕

“Captain, we didn’t hold it long enough before the array went unstable. No classification.”

The smile was gone. Smythe jammed the microphone back in its holder. Damn bad luck! Now there was nothing to do but finish the turn and pray that the contact would be regained. If not, then he could chase to the northeast, or maybe the southeast, to try to regain it. And it might not even be the Chinese boats. He could be chasing some amorous whale. There simply was not enough information to make any kind of intelligent decision.

The wait was interminable. Ten minutes after coming to the new course, Sonar finally reported that the array was stable and they were commencing a search.

An hour passed before Smythe admitted to himself that whatever they thought they had heard before the turn was now long gone. Even if it was really anything at all.

Ψ

“Do you know what a fumarole is?”

TJ Dillon had not a clue. “Some kind of sushi?”

Li Min Zhou smiled and took a sip of her tea. It was three a.m. local time in Taipei. Dillon and Zhou were the only customers in the McDonald’s, a block down the street from the Grand Hyatt in the city’s Xinyi District. An elderly employee slowly mopped the floor at the far side of the dining area. There were relatively few cars on the normally busy Songshou Road outside.

“Don’t feel bad. I had to Google it.” She gave him a brief description.

Dillon winced and shook his head. “Okay, I know we’re killing time until your guy gets here with my stuff, but why do we care about a pile of undersea mud?”

“Apparently, or at least according to some well-founded rumors, while Mother Earth was puking up all that sludge, she brought up a treasure trove of gold and left it there, on the bottom of the sea, for the taking. Assuming you have a means to go down that deep and scoop it up. That, we believe, is one of several reasons for a sudden and eager push within the Chinese government and military to extend their Belt and Roads Initiative down into the South Pacific. And into Tonga in particular. Not much else there unless you are working on a suntan.”

Li Min took another sip and glanced up at Dillon.

“Some higher-ups in the military know about the gold and would like to get a bunch of it for themselves. That meshes nicely with the desires of some others—in the Party and out—who have no idea about any gold mud. They simply want to restore the Middle Kingdom to what they see as its rightful place, at the center of the world. But they will not question such a favorable turn of events for their cause.”

The Chinese operative was getting more and more agitated as she continued her tirade.

“Then there is the third faction, the ones who have gotten filthy rich with their odd amalgam of communism and capitalism and would like to keep things tense, all right, but definitely do not want to push the US or other economies so far that they and their fat bank accounts get hurt in the rebound. They’ve prevented hostilities so far, but, as you know, that has begun to change, and this group is outnumbered, outranked, and will soon find themselves on the outside.”

TJ Dillon sat, open-mouthed, staring at the beautiful spy with the stunning eyes. Then he shook his head again, trying to take it all in.

“Okay, most of that I know. At least the three factions. And a few guys who blur the lines. The part about the gold down there at the bottom of the ocean...I can see how that might tip things toward a new quadrant.” He finally took a sip of his coffee, not even noticing it was cold.

“Something was bound to,” Li Min Zhou went on. “The military doesn’t trust the Communist Party. The Party doesn’t trust the military. The quasi-capitalists don’t trust anyone but wouldn’t dare challenge anybody so long as they are taking over the world one iPhone or kid’s toy or American savings-and-loan at a time. Then, of course, there is enough corruption everywhere and at all levels that an explosion is inevitable. As big as they are, as many tentacles as these bastards have in governments all over, and assuming they don’t blow up the planet in the process, the global economy will be a disaster when it all hits the fan. And guess what that does to the value of that gold mud down there on the sea floor. If it even exists.”

She sat back and looked at the ceiling. For the first time in the six hours he had known her, TJ Dillon could detect signs of fatigue on her face. Fatigue and sincere worry.

“May I ask you a question?” he queried. She gave the slightest of nods and closed her eyes. “There are...what?...a billion-and-a-half people in China. Why are so few of them like you? Why has there not been a revolution?”

She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, and looked TJ Dillon squarely in the eyes. It appeared she had been waiting a long while for someone to finally ask her this question. And waiting just as impatiently to answer it.

“There are plenty more like me, but they do not dare. They have a roof, four walls, at least enough food to survive, and some kind of job. And they have their children, or as many as the government allows. They have been convinced since childhood that the country is ungovernable any other way, that there would only be chaos if the collective—the people—do not submit to the will of all. The alternative is to be governed by rich capitalists who prey on the people to build wealth and grab power. As they are told that it is in the USA, of course. Plus, if they do not submit to the will of the masses, their children will be taken away, their homes