Deep Fathom
Karen held the platinum book in her fingers, stunned by her thoughtless act of desecration.
Mwahu began to weep behind her. “Doomed,” he moaned.
As if hearing him, the first bullet struck the basalt altar, stinging Karen’s face with a spray of rocky shards.
6:45 P.M., USS Gibraltar, Philippine Sea
Admiral Mark Houston climbed the five levels to the bridge of the USS Gibraltar. They were under full steam from Guam, where two days ago they had offloaded the civilian NTSB team along with the crated wreckage of Air Force One. In Guam, the Gibraltar had also reacquired its normal complement of aircraft—forty-two helicopters, both Sea Knights and Cobras, and five Harrier II fighter/bombers—along with its usual complement of LCAC amphibious landing craft. All to land the ship’s Marine detachment safely on Okinawa and bolster the island’s defense.
Reports coming from the region were growing worse by the hour. Apparently, the Chinese naval and air forces were merciless in their determination not to surrender Taiwan.
Passing through a cipher-locked hatch, Houston shook his head. It’s folly. Let the Chinese have the damn island. He had read the intelligence reports on the agreement signed between the leaders in Taipei and Beijing. It was not all that different from China’s assumption of control in Hong Kong and Macau. It would be business as usual. As they did in Hong Kong, the Chinese had no intention of weakening Taiwan’s economic base.
Still, he could understand the administration’s position. President Bishop had been murdered. Whether the upper levels in Beijing knew of the plot or not, the crime could not go unanswered.
Upon hearing of the escalating conflict, Houston had offered his services to remain on board and proceed to the beleaguered front. Calmer heads were needed out there. He was to oversee the situation and report his recommendations to the Joint Chiefs.
He climbed the last ladder, his knees protesting, and entered the bridge of the Gibraltar. The navigational equipment, map table, and communication station were all manned and busy.
“Admiral on the bridge!” an ensign called out.
All eyes turned in his direction. He waved them back to their duties. A groggy-eyed Captain Brenning pushed from his day cabin into the main bridge. He looked like he’d had less than an hour’s sleep in the past three days. “Sir, how can I help you?”
“I apologize for disturbing you. Just coming topside to stretch my legs. How are things faring?”
“Fine, sir. We’re thirty-six hours out and ready.”
“Very good.”
The C.O. nodded aft. “Sir, the Marine commander is over in debark control. I can let him know you’re here.”
“No need.” Houston stared out the green-tinted windows of the bridge. Rain sluiced across the glass. All day long a thin rain had been falling and a misty haze obscured the horizon. Having been holed up in his cabin since morning, conferring with Washington, he had primarily come up here to see the sun. He had thought a climb up to the bridge would do him some good, cheer him up. But instead he felt a heaviness grow in his chest. How many would die these next few days?
At the communication station, a lieutenant pulled headphones from his ears and turned to his captain. “Sir, I have an encrypted call from the Pentagon. They’re asking for Admiral Houston.”
Captain Brenning nodded to his day cabin. “Admiral, if you’d like, you could take the call in my cabin.”
Houston shook his head. “That’s no longer my place, Captain. I’ll take it out here.” He crossed and picked up a handset. “Admiral Houston here.”
As he listened, the cold of the island’s superstructure crept into his bones. He could not believe what he was hearing, but he had no choice. “Yes. I understand.” He handed the receiver back to the lieutenant.
The others must have sensed his dismay. The bridge grew quiet.
“Sir?” Captain Brenning stepped toward him.
Houston blinked a few times, stunned. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer to borrow your day cabin.” He turned and walked toward the door, indicating that Brenning should follow.
Once inside, he closed the door and turned to the C.O. “John, I’ve just received new orders and a new objective.”
“Where do they want us to go?”
“Taiwan.”
The captain blanched.
“Word has come down from the Hill,” Houston finished. “We’re officially at war with China.”
16
Cat and Mouse
August 6, 7:34 P.M.
Ruins of Nan Madol, southheast of Pohnpei Island
“Get down!” Jack yelled. He pulled Karen to her knees. Bullets sprayed the courtyard. Jack quickly assessed the situation as the four of them took shelter behind the basalt crypt. Rifle fire. From two locations. He tried to spot the snipers along the walls, but the suppressing gunfire was too intense.
He studied the others. Blood dribbled down Karen’s cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Eyes wide, she nodded, then touched her cheek. “Rock shards.” The momentary shock faded from her eyes. She crammed the crypt’s platinum book into her pack.
Jack, suspicious, eyed Mwahu. “Do you know anything about this?”
The islander shook his head vigorously.
Jack leaned back against the stone. He thought quickly. None of them had been shot. Why? They had been sitting ducks. They should not have survived the surprise assault. Beyond the stone, the rifle fire faded. “They’re pinning us down here,” he said aloud. “They want something from us or they would’ve killed us by now.”
“What do they want?” Miyuki asked angrily.
“The crystal,” Karen said. “That’s what everyone seems to want.”
Jack nodded. He crept to the edge of the crypt. The crystal star still rested atop the block’s lid. “It’s just out of reach. I’m going to need a distraction in case I’m wrong.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Miyuki…”
The professor nodded as Jack told her his plan, then slid to the opposite end of the basalt coffin.
“On my count,” Jack whispered. “One…Two…three!”
Miyuki shoved her umbrella into the air, opening it and waving it about.
Rifle fire blasted, ripping and shredding the umbrella’s cloth. Miyuki gasped, cringing, but held tight.
Jack listened. Both guns were firing. Good. He burst from his end of the crypt, grabbed the crystal star, and dove back into cover. Hunching, he clutched the artifact to his chest.