Piranha

The probe was within thirteen miles of the Chinese submarine, which was moving at three knots south. Another fifteen miles away was the lead Chinese aircraft carrier. The Piranha communications buoy had been dropped thirty-five miles further west, allowing the EB-52 to stay outside of carrier CAP.

Delaford had launched this probe a few hours before to replace the first, whose fuel had lasted slightly longer than they’d originally calculated. It was now moving southwest in low-power mode, and would be picked up by the Dreamland Osprey in a few hours, if the weather held. A new storm system was approaching rather quickly.

“You look like you’re on top of it,” said Delaford. “See you down the line.”

“I’ll be here.” The line snapped clear; he was on his own.

Upstairs on the flight deck, Brea

She’d have a full gallery when she flew the UMB. Even better, a full bathroom.

Hell, one of the geeks said she could fly if from her bedroom via laptop—now wouldn’t that be a trip?

Brea

Brea

Did she want to leave this behind?

Maybe. This was fairly routine. Almost boring.

Not that the business the other day had been.

It made sense from a career angle, certainly. It’d be easier on her back, which was crinked from the cot she’d slept on last night. She’d see Zen more. Not that she didn’t see him all the time now.

The thoughts came to her in a sarcastic tone, almost as if someone else had said it. She was mad at her husband, though she wasn’t exactly sure why.

Because he was working with Je

Whom she hated. But Zen was always working with Je

Was it?

“Hey,” said a voice behind her. It startled her so badly she nearly lost her balance.

Stoner, the CIA officer aboard to act as general intelligence consultant and Fentress’s gofer.

“Mr. Stoner. We would prefer it if you kept your seat,” she told him.

“You’re up.”

“What can I do for you?” she said frostily.

“I was wondering if I could listen in on some of the com intercepts from the trawler, if they’re in the clear.”

“You speak Chinese?”

“A bit.”

“I doubt they’re in the clear,” she told him. “But we may be able to pipe them through. G back to your station and I’ll see.”

“Can I view them?”

civilians just didn’t get it sometimes.

“We’re too far from the actual position of the ships on the surface to seem them. We have radar indications, that’s all.”

“If you get close to them, I’d like to take a look. I might be able to tell you what kind of equipment they have. I’d be very interested.”

He had a handsome face, deep blue eyes that seemed out of place with his dark hair.

We’ll try. Use the interphone from now on,” she told him. “Downstairs.”

He stared at her a while longer, then nodded.

“Kind of a jerk,” she said as she sat back in her seat.

“Who?” said Chris.

“Stoner.”

“Yeah? Seemed okay to me. First CIA guy I ever met.”

“Give him a sitrep screen, all right? Show him where everything is.”

Brea

“Not a problem.”

Restraints snugged, Brea

“Trawler’s heading off south,” Chris pointed out, referring to the Taiwanese spy ship. “Wimping out?”

“Just getting out of the way for the showdown” said Brea