Chapter 4 / Page 1

Persian Gulf
Saturday, November 15, 1997
7:30 P.M. (GMT + 3.00)

Captain Tze Wong stared across the confines of his stateroom. His gaze fixed on a portrait. It was a color photograph remembering the grand day when the 404 was launched. She proudly flew her colors, slicing through the South China Sea like the shark she was. The 404 was China’s challenge to the arrogant Americans. No longer would anyone look upon the People Liberation Army Navy as a toy fleet. The Han Class was a nuclear answer to the surviving superpower. A replacement for the hapless Russians—a people no longer masters of their own destiny. Russia was for sale, and the buyers were American and Japanese bankers.

He was her master. His authority extended to the ninety-two crewmen and the mission he had been given. His responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders. The numbers were overwhelming. In one maddening moment, he had lost a quarter of his crew and damaged his ship. He understood hazardous missions. After all, he was charged with the protection of his nation. He had been chosen to deliver this cargo. His ship had been selected to be the envoy.

Wong kept replaying the disaster as he struggled to come up with a solution. Even now, the American task force might be hunting them. The only escape lay in the Strait of Hormuz. If they had been detected, then a Los Angeles Class attack boat would be waiting. Considering the damage to the outer hull, tracking, trapping, and killing them would be child’s play.