Steve Abbott - Devil's Gambit

Forest’s eyes went up in alarm.

Chun saw Forest’s distress. “You can relax, Mister Forest. My attempts at procurement were all unsuccessful. No doubt Sung used that particular black mark on my career in my undoing.” Chun leaned forward and stabbed the air with the glowing end of his cigarette. “If the North is ever to be taken seriously in the world political arena, we cannot allow ourselves to be portrayed in the same light as the likes of Saddam Hussein or Mohammar Gadhafi. I always sought to purchase all materials through standard procedures. It is painfully obvious to me now that is not what my country had in mind for acquisition of strategic assets.”

“Do you feel the warheads will reach their destination?”

“If you are sure they are on a submarine, then yes.”

“Why?”

“Commando raids are carried out continuously on southern installations close to the sea on both coasts. The commando units are delivered almost exclusively by submarine. Our sea floor maps of the region are extremely detailed. Not a single one of our subs has been intercepted in the area since the program was started.” Chun left the table to get another cup of coffee. He continued talking while he did this. “Besides, our subs are old and few, all diesel boats. The crews and Captains are the very best our country can provide. They have to be. Southern patrol boats would give them no quarter if a mistake was made.” Chun paused to take a sip of coffee. As he sat down, his eyes took on a faraway look and then snapped back to the present. “I did, however, hear of a secret submarine project dealing with a new class capable of recharging its batteries without having to surface.”

“Any idea of the range of such a sub?”

“Rumors had it between three to five thousand miles. Remember, engineering is my specialty, not ship design. You would be best served by discussing this with other experts.”

Forest felt awkward, but he had to ask for the next step, a step full of risk for all sides. “Chun, Langley has told me to ask if you are willing to help our NEST team retrieve the warheads in Korea.”

“That will mean going into the North.” It was a statement, not a question.

“That is correct.”

“And what do you think would entice me to do something so foolish?”

“Five million dollars.”

“If I am captured, they will execute me as an enemy of the state.”

Forest shrugged, asking men to go to what was most possibly their deaths was an experience well outside of his understanding. “If you go, I know it will be for your own reasons and not the money.”

Chun nodded. “Then you understand me far better than I suspected. Tell your people I will go, but only if I am sufficiently equipped. I will not go as some sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. The security forces of my country are formidable.”

Forest started to put items back in his briefcase. His finger on the stop button of his recorder, he decided to ask one more question that had been bothering him all evening. “This Sung character, if he is running this whole thing, what acts, exactly, is he capable of?”

Chun’s eyes were cold points. “Anything at all.”

The E2C Hawkeye moved through the sixth circuit of its racetrack flight pattern. Twin Allison Turboprops droned on in the thin air of twenty thousand feet. Albatross 4 was a command aircraft, one of three other Airborne Early Warning and Control aircraft. Albatross 4, 7, and 9 were arrayed in a staggered one hundred and eighty degree arc in front of the Carrier Task Force. The aircraft monitored the North Korean coastline and out into the Yellow Sea from the safety of South Korean airspace.

The E2C’s flight crew had a pilot and co-pilot. In her dim-lit bowels lived a Combat Information Center officer, an air control officer and the radar officer. The radar officer found the threats, the air controller directed a sufficient response and the CIC officer controlled the entire deadly ballet. He would intervene if additional threat types appeared.

Eight FA-18 Hornets of VFA-242, “Bats,” were engaged in barrier combat air patrol. Broken into two flights of four aircraft and bound by the rules of engagement, they were under the direct control of Albatross 4. Because of the threat posed by numerous North Korean missile boats sitting just on the other side of the dividing meridian. Four of the Hornets were loaded for air/sea combat with two Harpoon anti-ship missiles mounted on the inboard pylons flanking the extended range fuel tank. The load out was completed with six AIM-9M Sidewinders on the outboard and inboard pylons. The other four Hornets flying top cover had AIM-7 Sparrow missiles on the fuselage rails. The Sparrows were a medium-range missile equipped with a semi-active radar guidance system that used the Hornet’s radar to home in and acquire the target.

The radar operator’s head snapped up at the surface threat buzzer. He hit the acknowledge button on the keypad of his AN/APS-145 Advanced Radar Processing system and scanned the incoming data. The system’s IFF interrogator failed to detect any friendly transponder code on the surface ships detected by the large Radome turning overhead. Should the operator be a total moron, the system also highlighted the new threats in red. The passive detection systems began to illuminate activated surface search radar sets, showing their scanning cones and threat areas in faint yellow.

The CIC officer spun around in his chair. “What do you have?”

The E2C crew was a tight unit. Formalities of rank meant little in such cramped confines. “Missile boats on the deck. They just illuminated their surface search radars. From the size of the return, they look like Square Tie sets, probably OSA ones.”

“Why would they light up? They’re way out of range of the task force.”

“A drill?”

“And give their position away?”

“So what do we do?”

“Check it out, I guess.” The CIC Officer looked over at the air controller. “Get Reaper to check these boys out.”

“Reaper one. Albatross four. Dinghies on deck just turned their lights on. Vector three two four point five. Visual from your position in three minutes. Engage only if fired upon.”

“Albatross four. Reaper one. Roger.”

“Eisenhower on the horn, boss.” The air controller doubled as the radio operator.

Albatross 4’s CIC officer punched up Eisenhower’s command communication frequency. “Albatross four CIC Officer Pelente.”

“Commander Kirkland, Surface Warfare Officer. What’s up?”

“Missile boats on the deck just illuminated their surface search sets, sir. Reaper flight is checking them out.”

“Very well. We’ll monitor from here. If it gets hairy, we’ll throw everything but the kitchen sink off the deck.”

“Thank you, sir.” The CIC officer turned to AC officer. “You heard the man. Patch them in.”

The radar officer watched a series of long dots blink into existence on his display and called out in alarm. “Eight bogies. Looks like fast movers just came off the deck about three hundred and fifty K’s out and closing on our position.”

The atmosphere in the Hawkeye came alive.

The AC officer was quick to inform his flights of this new wrinkle. “All Reaper flights, all Reaper flights, eight bogies, fast movers coming through Angel’s twelve, five hundred knot overtake. Repeat, eight bogies, fast movers coming through Angel’s twelve, five hundred knot overtake.”

“Reaper five, flight moving to intercept bogies. Give me a vector to bogie.”

The AC read off the coordinates, “Vector two nine five, Angel’s fourteen.” He then switched to the frequency for the two other Albatross aircraft. They had a wider radar angle on the approaching aircraft. “Seven and nine, tell me what you see.”