China Sea (23 page)

“I don't doubt it, considering that those you acted against caused the death of your wife.”

“My fiancée, but yeah, that was one reason. How come you know so much about me? Sir?”

“I was in Washington then,” Suriadiredja said. “As a student at your National War College, but I tried to make contacts outside that rather narrow circle. I knew the military attaché from the People's Republic, for example.”

Dan went cold inside, recalling the heavy features of the man he even now, years later, would not mind killing. “You knew Colonel Zhang.”

“Not intimately, but we met more than once.”

Dan nodded slowly, trying to fight off the bad memories. “You said you had a question for me.”

“Just your personal opinion. I wanted to ask you: What is going to be the impact of Tienanmen Square on U.S. policy toward Southeast Asia?”

“I don't think it will have much of an impact,” said Dan. “Maybe slow down some technology transfer. But I doubt much more will happen.”

“That is unfortunate. But only to be expected, I suppose.”

Seeming disappointed, though by what aspect of their conversation Dan could not tell, the admiral unfolded the chart he'd taken from the bridge, spreading it out on the table. It was a small-scale chart of the South China Sea. He placed a finger on a group of tiny dots off the coast of Vietnam.

“The Paracels,” Dan said.

“The
former
Paracels. Owned and garrisoned by South Vietnam until in 1974 the Chinese saw an opportunity. Saigon was isolated. America had withdrawn her support. The Soviet Union was not interested. North Vietnam was too dependent on Chinese supplies to protest. The Chinese invaded, fought a naval battle, sank several Vietnamese destroyers. Now they are the Xisha Islands, with radar surveillance sites and a naval base.”

Dan studied the chart. “We'll be patrolling considerably to the east.”

“In Phase Three. That is correct.” Suriadiredja cocked his head and sucked air between his teeth. “But I'm not talking about our current operation, Dan. I'm talking about the strategic picture. Jakarta is concerned about the gradual extension of Chinese hegemony southward.”

“I don't really see them extending hegemony,” Dan said.

“In the same way none of us can see a tree growing,” said the admiral. “It is a very gradual expansion, by a regime that plans not in terms of the next quarter but of the next century. But they have already advanced claims to the entire South China Sea, reserving the right not only to develop its resources but also to prevent passage through it.”

“By ‘resources' you mean fishing rights?”

“Fishing certainly, and transit rights, but most likely the real attraction is twofold: the recovery of past Chinese glory and the exploitation of subsea oil reserves. They intimidate their neighbors with probes and veiled threats while at the same time protesting that they are a peace-loving and trade-loving nation. But each time opportunity beckons, they take another step. They are gradually territorializing what was once open sea, and the overall intent is plain.”

Suriadiredja indicated the Xishas again. “As I said, the western boundary of the sea basin is already secured, by their island-grabbing in the Paracels. Truly unfortunate, that the United States permitted that to happen. China could have been stopped at her doorstep. Since then the Russians have withdrawn from Camh Ranh Bay, leaving Vietnam isolated as China builds airfields and bases on Woody Island. We were no admirers of the Soviets, but it is unfortunate their Pacific Fleet is leaving. It is one less obstacle to China's creep south. In 1997, Hong Kong will revert to rule from Beijing. On the east, the Pratas are Taiwanese; whenever China moves to reincorporate Formosa, they will pass into their hands. The Philippines are too weak to resist. Only American support maintains their claims, and the United States is steadily retreating from Asia.

“So far each step has been tiny. An uninhabited reef. A reverting colony. But their next step is a long one.” He placed his fingers on several dots north of Borneo. “Two years ago they landed military forces in the Spratley Islands. If they continue to occupy them, the entire bowl of the China Sea will be encompassed. They will have taken de facto possession and, with application of air power or an aircraft carrier, will be able to back up their occupation with force. We are attempting to settle the matter peacefully, but China refuses to discuss her claims.”

Dan suddenly realized why he was being treated to this treatise on power politics in Southeast Asia. The naïveté of the admiral's assumption made him smile. He said, “Sir, if this is some kind of diplomatic démarche, if that's the right word, I'm not the guy you want to carry it.”

Suriadiredja shrugged. “Perhaps not. But I am looking into the future. And, in a way, into the past. For what I fear is that history will repeat itself. As you know, the Second World War began in Indonesia.”

“It did?”

“Yes. Once the British, Dutch, and Americans cut off their petroleum supplies, the Japanese had to decide whether to give up their conquests in China or move south for our oil. They decided to attack. Pearl Harbor, the Battle of the Java Sea, the fall of Singapore and Corregidor and the Philippines was the result.

“What I fear is that what interest America has in the rest of the world will vanish with the end of the cold war. Your leases on Clark and Subic Bay will run out very shortly. If they are not renewed, your withdrawal will accelerate. Meanwhile China advances into your place, intimidating or absorbing the regional powers one by one. In the end, the ASEAN powers could face a resurgent China across a sea she wholly dominates. A resurgent nationalism could unite her populations in Singapore, Thailand, Malaysia, the Philippines … and my own country, which has large numbers of overseas Chinese. The only power by then capable of opposing her in South Asia will be Indonesia. Our population is nearly as large as that of the United States and far larger than that of Japan or Vietnam. We will fight, if we must, but we should prefer not to have to fight alone.”

“If China attacked you, I'm sure the United States would be by your side.”

“As she was at the side of the Philippines when Japan struck?” said Suriadiredja. “And South Vietnam? Your country has a strange blindness. You do not seem to be able to recognize your enemies. As long as your commercial interests profit from the relationship, your leaders will not call China to account in any other way than with words or possibly token restriction of armaments sales. We do not propose to share that strategic procrastination. The time to fence in China is now, not after she has gained powerful positions and built up her fleet.”

“Well, sir,” Dan said, “basically, I wish you well. If I have a chance to speak to anyone in Washington, I'll be sure and pass on your concerns. I'm not an admirer of the People's Republic, though I like the Chinese as people. But, basically,
Gaddis
is here to help you operate against pirates.”

Suriadiredja nodded, face relaxed. “And do you know something? I have the feeling that if we search diligently, we may just find some. Let's pull out that operation order, now, and make sure we understand Phases One and Two.”

*   *   *

THE admiral said he'd changed his intent to move to
Gaddis
, that
Nala
would remain his flagship. When he left, the helo rising again into the sky, Dan stood looking after it till it vanished from sight. He caught a distant glimpse of the Indonesian corvette sheered out to the north. “Secure flight quarters; secure the ready boat crew,” he told Engelhart. The warrant nodded, and Dan headed forward again. He swung his gaze up and down the column, confirming that Zabounian was headed back to station again, then ducked inside the skin of the ship, slamming the door to as a wave crashed into the side, reaching up a rattling spatter of warm, salty spray.

He stopped briefly in the radio room to discuss Compline's attempts to make contact with Pearl Harbor. The radioman chief said he'd been trying, but no one seemed to be guarding the clear termination. He'd keep at it, and he had other ideas about getting back in touch, but he suggested they duck into Subic as they went north, later in the exercise. They still had the racks and power supplies; all they needed was one old KW-7 to plug in and they could be back up on Fleet Broadcast. Dan said he'd see; maybe they could do that.

His next stop was in the chief's mess, where he'd asked Mellows to meet him. The big torpedoman was the only one there, sitting at a freshly wiped table over a mug of battery acid. As Dan came in Mellows was looking off into the distance. With his massive arms, deep chest, and bald head he looked like some torpid yet powerful oriental god. Dan motioned him down as Mellows noticed him and came to his feet. “Hi, Chief. Look, put your chief master-at-arms hat on, OK? I want to talk about something that's been bothering me.”

He'd had to take somebody into his confidence, and he didn't trust Juskoviac. Not because he suspected him—the exec had been back in the States when the ship was in Fayal—but because the guy was incapable of keeping his mouth shut. And whatever duty Dan assigned him, he'd still have to get somebody else to actually do it.

He'd settled on Marsh Mellows for a couple of reasons. The chief master-at-arms was the closest thing to a police chief there was aboard ship. Aboard larger units, cruisers to carriers, the position was a primary duty, with rated, professional chief masters-at-arms. Aboard
Gaddis
, with her withered, hodgepodge crew, it was an additional duty. Mellows had volunteered for the post, replacing a chief who'd been detached before Dan had reported aboard in Philly. The fact that Mellows had no torpedoes aboard gave him the time, and he'd studied up on the two-volume master-at-arms rate manual. His two assistants were volunteers, too.

Another reason was that Mellows knew the enlisted crew better than anyone else aboard. Most of the chiefs and first-class knew their divisions intimately, their own departments less so, and did not concern themselves overmuch about the rest. As the master-at-arms, it was Marsh's business to know everyone, and it was a business he'd applied himself to. Any hour of the day or night, Dan had seen him circulating, chatting with enginemen, auxiliarymen, supply personnel. The only other person with the same kind of proprietary interest in the whole crew was the exec, and Mellows was far better respected among them than Juskoviac. The last reason was that Dan just liked Mellows's easygoing, cheerful presence. He was reassuring to have around. So Dan had shared his suspicions with him, before they left Singapore, and asked him to think about what they should do about it.

Now Mellows nodded, lowering his usually booming voice. “I did what you said, sir—made the assumption we were talking about, trying to figure what if it was some wacko aboard here, slicing and dicing those hookers, a girl in every port. Now, these boys ain't angels. We had a couple of scuffles I had to break up in forward berthing. But I still don't think it's going to be one of ours.”

“You're probably right, Chief. I just got a bad feeling when those cops came aboard in Malta. It made me think. Those prostitutes in South Philly. The girl in Fayal. Now, what sounds like the same thing, only in Singapore.”

“Fuckee-suckee girls get in trouble every day, sir. Don't mean we got Ted Bundy aboard.”

“Well, I hope you're right. But just in case, who did you come up with?”

Mellows pulled out what Dan recognized as the current muster and said slowly, rubbing his scalp, “Well, sir, first I sort of crossed off all the Pakis. They were here for Staten Island and Philly and Fayal, but they left before we got to Singapore. So I limited this to the U.S. crew. Here's who I got, people who were aboard that whole time.”

Dan clicked his teeth together. Over forty names on the list. Including people he'd already thought about: Doolan, Pistolesi, and Armey. “I see you're on here, too,” he told Mellows.

“Yessir, go by this, I'd have to be a suspect.” The chief looked at the list again. “So would you.”

“Well, we've got to narrow it down. How about liberty sections? Can we bounce who was on liberty those nights in the Azores, in Singapore?”

“Sir, I could try, but you know how the guys swap off on duty sections. The chiefs and div-ohs make sure we got enough bodies for the fire party and so forth, but we don't keep any permanent records. We'd have to hale everybody in and start doing cross-examinations, who you went on libs with, were they ever out of your sight, that kind of shit. I'll try if you want, but I don't think those odds are with us even if he is aboard.”

“What about checking around with the leading petty officers? Whoever this is, he's got to be giving off signals. Obsessing about women, threats, violent remarks—”

“Gonna be hard to rule out a lot of sailors, you call it like that,” said Mellows. “Anyway, I don't know if you're right, sir, that he'd stand out. What I read about them—you're talking Son of Sam, Boston Strangler guys, right?”

“Throw in some Jack the Ripper,” said Dan. “This one might have a thing for prostitutes.”

“Well, like I say, a lot of these psychos, they look just as normal as you and me. You could be talking to him and he's Mr. Meek—till the moon gets full. But if you want me to start the ball rolling, I'll be happy to do that.”

Dan pondered it for a couple more seconds, then got up. “Could you do that without its getting out among the crew? Because if he knows we're after him, he'll pull into his shell. We'll never catch him then.”

“Can try, sir. Think up some cover story, somebody's wallet's missing or something. We been having thefts down in forward berthing; they'd probably buy that.”

“What about that fire alarm the other night? The false alarm?”