"That will be all, Commander Wong," Conroy said. "I need a few more words with the deputies in private."
Wong definitely didn't like playing second fiddle to anyone. With a tight face, he complied and left the compartment, pulling the hatch shut behind him.
"The storm will provide a little added cover for your operation," Conroy said to me. "It might buy you just enough time to complete the mission objective before Chinese operatives reach the site. I will give you a heads up if I can, if we discover any solid intel about their recovery team.”
"What if we should find ourselves in a head-to-head situation with foreign adversaries?” I asked.
This was a delicate situation. The sub was in US waters, but as a warship, it was the sovereign property of the Chinesegovernment. Engaging in direct action could create an international incident.
"I don't need to tell you, gentlemen, that this operation does not exist," Conroy said. "I don't think the Chinese would be stupid enough to engage Americans within US waters, but I do anticipate they will be sending contractors with plausible deniability, much like we have contracted you. There is a Chinese fishing trawler in the area, and I don’t think they are looking for shrimp." Conroy shared a glance with his partner, then continued. "If you are engaged by hostile actors, respond in kind. Do not compromise mission objectives.”
"Let's hope we get there first," JD said.
"That's the idea. Good luck, gentlemen, and Godspeed."
That was the end of the transmission.
JD and I shared a glance.
"You feel up to this? That was a hell of a swim you had.”
"I don't have much of a choice at this point. I'll be fine.”
JD wasn't sold. My eyes betrayed how tired and drained I was. But being wet, cold, and tired was something you learn to thrive off of in this line of work. There was no alternative.
We left the command center, found Wong, and told him we’d be commandeering one of the mini-subs and would need dive gear and someone to man the umbilicals.
“Hey, it's your show now," he said with a little acid in his voice. “Whatever you need.” Then he added, "I’m retracting the satellite buoy as per Tristan's request. If you need to make any phone calls, do it now."
We didn't have time to chit-chat with anyone at the moment.
JD and I made our way back to our bunks. I had pretty much returned to my baseline temperature. I figured it was safe to take a shower. Too soon after a hypothermic event could cause vasodilation and fainting.
I stayed in the shower long enough to warm up a little, wash the seawater off, and feel a little refreshed. I toweled off, got dressed, then hit the galley and whipped up some dehydrated food to get something in my belly before setting out on a mission.
A text buzzed through on the encrypted app, Memo.[We have Paisley. If you want to see her alive again, you’ll deliver the case to us.]
A proof of life video was attached to the message.
My heart sank.
I pressed play. The camera started close on her terrified face. Bound and gagged, mascara stained her cheeks. In a dark room, a flashlight spotlit her. The perp held today’s paper in front of the lens.
Before I could respond or send the video to Isabella for analysis, cell service went down.
31
“Ineed comms back online,” I said when I found Wong in the control room.
His brow wrinkled. "I'm sorry. It's just not possible. You heard Tristan. We've retracted the buoy. It's too risky to leave it at the surface. We could permanently lose satellite communication, and that would inhibit the rest of the mission.”
“This is an emergency situation.”
Wong exhaled an exasperated sigh, then shrugged. "Hey, it's your show now. If you want the satcom buoy up, I'll put it up. But it's your responsibility if something happens to it.”
"I'll take that responsibility."
Wong manned the controls and surfaced the buoy. The monitoring screen lit up. "I'm telling you, this is a bad idea. It’s pushing the tether beyond tolerances. It’s pretty rough up there.”
