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

his hand and started to speak. But suddenly, Jim Ward collapsed, face down in the sand.

Tad Riley rushed past the Vietnamese officer and was immediately at Ward’s side. He rolled the SEAL officer onto his back. His hand came away bloody.

“Skipper’s hit!” he cried out as he tore away Ward’s body armor. His shirt had wicked up a startling amount of blood. Riley reached into his armor kit and grabbed the medical bag, then slapped a wad of bandage over the wound, holding pressure to try to stop the bleeding.

“We need to get him out quick!” he yelled.

Duc Tran Trou frantically signaled two of his men. They placed Ward on a stretcher and followed two other Marines already carrying Hall toward the Huey.

Once the wounded men, the rest of the SEALs, and Lieutenant Trou had climbed aboard the bird, it revved up for lift-off. Then, it disappeared into the moonless sky, as if none of them had ever been there.

13

Yon Ba Deng, China’s Assistant Vice Deputy to the Minister of National Defense for Naval Matters, struggled to maintain his composure. He growled to himself, mostly under his breath, “The noble-minded are calm and steady. Little people are forever fussing and fretting.” Over and over, he muttered the mantra as he fought for inner peace.

Bing Dou, his trusted assistant, finally asked him, “Elder brother, what are you saying? What is disturbing you so greatly?”

Yon Ba Deng shook his head and forced a wry smile.

“It is an old Confucian quote I use to attempt to reach inner peace. Soo Be Xian is playing some clumsy game down on the Vietnam border. That incompetent old man is so jealous of my Party ties that he is trying to start a war. And all just to thwart me.”

Bing Dou nodded as he listened. He and his boss had long been planning their move out into the South Pacific as a means to enhance Yon Ba Deng’s status within the Party. Successfully extending his country’s territorial waters would ultimately elevate him to the highest echelon. The carefully choreographed plan was well under way and its intricacies required clockwork timing. At this point, even the slightest deviation could throw the whole scheme into disarray. And now, when he needed him the most, Yon Hun Glo, his younger brother and strong right arm in the PLAN, was out of communications, riding a squadron of his submarines, making way for Tonga.

“What should we do, then?” Bing Dou inquired. “If Soo Be Xian is successful with starting a border war, the Central Committee, the Politburo, and the Secretariat will all be putting every effort into that. They will have no time or attention for us and our gains.”

“Remember what Sun Tzu said,” Yon Ba Deng answered. “‘Victory comes from finding opportunities in problems.’ Our worthy Vice Deputy Minister for National Defense has presented us with a problem. Now, it is up to us to find the opportunity that it hides from us.”

Deng idly scratched his right ear as he stood. He slowly paced around his large office until stopping at the window that overlooked a quiet park and the Beijing Archives Building across the way. But he was not admiring the view. His mind was racing through the possibilities. He turned on a heel and smiled at his assistant.

“Bing Dou, once again Master Sun Tzu has provided us with the answer. As he said, ‘The quality of decision is like the well-timed swoop of a falcon which enables it to strike and destroy its victim.’” Yon Ba Deng’s eyes glowed with an inner fire. Such an expression would once have sent chills through Bing Dou. Now, he had grown accustomed to his master’s intense emotions. “Call our compatriots over in the Air Force. It is now time to swoop. Have them shuttle our marines and transport planes to...what is the name of that airport in Tonga?”

Bing Dou quickly consulted the tablet on his desk. “Fua’amotu, elder brother.”

“No, no, that is the airport on the main island. What is the little one to the north?”

“You mean Vava’u,” Bing Dou answered, again after checking the data on the tablet.

“Yes, Vava’u. That is the one. The one that is very near to that other island. What was its name?”

“That would be Niue.” Bing Dou had no need to consult the data on the screen for this answer. “It purports to be an independent country, but really, they are a protectorate of New Zealand,” the assistant offered. “It is only about four hundred kilometers from Vava’u and about the same distance to the Tonga Trench. You remember that is where those scientists claim they found the gold.”

“Fine. Fine,” Yon Ba Deng responded. “That part I certainly recall. Let us just get the parts moving. The more quickly we grab the gold, the sooner we crush that loon, Soo Be Xian.”

Ψ

Commander Chet Allison stretched his aching back and groaned. Far too many hours pacing Boise’s hard steel decks were taking their toll on his spine. Over a week of trailing the two Chinese nuclear submarines had been physically taxing but ultimately very boring. The pair were noisy enough that they were not particularly challenging to trail as they meandered over what felt like the entire ocean. So noisy they hardly offered a decent training opportunity for his guys.

Then there was the aimless nature of their trek. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their antics as they steamed about with no particular destination in mind. And now here they were, pretty much right back where they had started, a couple of hundred miles east-southeast of Hainan Island.

Allison scratched the several days’ growth of stubble on his chin. His poopie suit was causing him to itch in strategic places and he could not really remember the last time he had showered. Or slept. The submarine skipper was of the opinion that his team on Boise was still too new and inexperienced to be unsupervised for any length of time,