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someone down there to take a look and see what the hell is going on. You got Cheyenne about ready to go, don’t you?”

“Yep, she’s finishing up fast cruise today. The plan was to do a final stores load and then send her out to chase those Chinese diesel boats that intel says are supposed to be heading our way.”

“I suggest you revise that plan,” Ward responded. “Send her down to do some recon work and then she can go out to chase Chinese subs.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“And Joe, one more thing. I recommend that you get your Marines ready to come off the bench for some action. I’m thinking we may need them in the game real soon.”

Ψ

Vice Admiral Yon Hun Glo looked long and hard at the navigation plot on the table before him. The seemingly interminable transit from Hainan to Tonga was finally nearing its completion. By this time tomorrow, the wolf pack would be safely tied up in the new, protected Chinese base on the Tongan main island. Their sudden appearance at the dock on the American spy satellite images would come as a startling surprise to them. One that would ring alarm bells from their Pentagon to the Oval Office. But Yon had not time or will to contemplate the effect. He must now get to work on the true reason he had made this stealthy and thus far undetected voyage to a forgotten corner of the South Pacific. From here, he would take control of the gold field, and by doing so, assist his older brother, Yon Ba Deng, in employing that almost endless bounty of gold to secure the power and influence within the Party and their country’s military hierarchy that they had so long deserved.

The admiral sat back and contemplated the next steps in the plan. Here he was, in his stateroom on the submarine Changcheng Wushiwu, idly stirring his tea as he pondered the future. He and his brother held all the cards. And the groundwork they had been laying for years—the people they had bribed, bullied, blackmailed, and bludgeoned—would finally be put to good use now that the mounds of precious metal on the sea floor had become their means to an end. They were in a strong position for success. However, as he analyzed the situation from all angles—as he always did with any prospective battle plan—he recognized two major obstacles that would have to be overcome to assure its accomplishment.

The first and foremost problem was the Americans. Of course. As always. But more than ever, that nation’s leadership—business and government alike—had become weak, timid, lacking the will for such a contest as this one would be. They and their much-ballyhooed capitalistic system had become deeply dependent economically on China, on the entrenched business relationships, and on China’s extensive investments in their country’s private sector. They might bluster and complain, threaten and cajole, but ultimately, the US would not risk such an intertwined and complicated relationship. Nor could the Americans rely on the support from many more of the world’s governments since they, too, had long since succumbed to China’s economic addiction. Such hesitation should make it easy for Yon to shove them away with his submarines, just as his brother shunted them aside in the world of international politics and economics.

The other obstacle, though, was more problematic. And it was much closer to home. That was King Tofuwanga of Tonga. Yon knew he needed to come up with a way to deal with that pompous idiot, keeping him reasonably content with China’s largess while at the same time curbing the greedy simpleton’s more extravagant and dangerous proclivities. The fool had already demonstrated one of those inclinations, and he had almost wrecked their whole timetable, when he impetuously invaded Niue.

Fortunately, Yon Ba Deng had exercised the forethought to have a battalion of People’s Liberation Army Marines at the ready on Guadalcanal. That had averted one potential catastrophe. But what would “King Two-for-One" come up with next to try to throw his considerable weight around and justify his existence as head of his government? Especially now that the man was aware of the strategic value of his islands because of the gold-spewing fumarole.

“Excuse me, Admiral?”

It was Yu Feng, Wushiwu’s political officer. Yet again, he had stuck his head through the stateroom doorway without bothering to knock or ask permission to enter. Yon decided not to make a fuss this time. There would be an opportunity later.

“Yes?”

“Captain Liu Zhang asked for me to report to you that they have completed a careful ASW search. No submarines have been detected. Captain Liu Zhang requests permission to secure the ASW search and continue the voyage.”

Yon Hun Glo took a sip of his tea before nodding approval.

“Yes, please tell the captain to proceed. And please, see that I am not disturbed for the next couple of hours. I believe that I will take a nap now.”

Yu Feng bobbed his head in a short bow and quietly shut the stateroom door.

The lang qun once again formed its familiar line astern and steered for Tongatapu. Or more precisely, for the narrow passage between the dreaded Dido Shoals and Kelefesia Island. From there it would be a relatively easy sail down to the Avi Piha passage and then into port.

However, no one in the Chinese wolf pack noticed that a fifth and uninvited member had joined the neat line of submarines a few miles east of Fiji. It was ORCA One, obediently following its recently downloaded commands. She fell in, unobserved, close astern of the Changcheng Ershi, the last of the Chinese boats. Then she followed along as if she belonged there just as much as they did.

Ψ

Jim Ward stared out the window of the Gulfstream G550 executive jet as it climbed out of Singapore’s Changi Airport. The young SEAL lay reasonably comfortably on a small bed that had been specially fitted into the aircraft’s otherwise luxurious interior. Although he had been weaning himself off the

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