The Rising Sea (NUMA Files 15)

“Yesterday,” Wen replied. “We detected signals emanating from an ROV. Sonar was intermittent, due to the small size of the submersible, but we’re almost certain that they found the original mining site.”

Han put a hand to his temple and massaged away the growing pain. “How could this happen? I thought naval units of the PLA had that area locked down.”

Wen explained the breach with grudging admiration. “I will admit they found a novel way around our net. A method we hadn’t considered. But, in hindsight, their discovery will prove irrelevant.”

“Not if they send the information back to Washington.”

“That will never occur,” Wen promised. “The NUMA agents are here in Shanghai. We’ll soon have them in custody. They will be charged with espionage and used as bargaining chips. And, to their dismay, they will find they’ve thrown their lives away for nothing. Even a detailed survey with accurate sonar maps, video footage and ground-penetrating sonar will reveal very little to anyone. The real work was deep under the seafloor in the tunnels carved out by your machines, too deep for standard sonar to reveal.

“At best, the Americans will have discovered a subsurface mining operation that was destroyed b

y some minor geologic activity and the wreckage of an aquatic habitat, half buried in the canyon. They will have learned nothing about the nature of the operation or the Golden Adamant. And by the time they do, we’ll be in control of the Japanese government, and you and your agents will be free to mine all the Golden Adamant on Hokkaido. Providing you can actually find it.”

Han was put on the defensive. “We’re very close,” he insisted. “I will soon be in possession of the ancient swords and Masamune’s journal, which tells of their forging. Those items will lead us directly to the mine from which Masamune obtained the alloy in the first place. But none of that will do any good if the NUMA agents in Shanghai or their associates here expose us.”

Wen fell quiet for a moment, like he often did when they were playing Go. Han took the moment to take another drink.

Finally, the old man spoke again. “You say Austin came to you?”

“He asked for my help in the exploration.”

“A bold stroke,” Wen said. “He must have been trying to shake you.”

“I assure you, he learned nothing.”

“Still, there’s a great deal to be admired in the way he plays the game. And much to learn.”

“Such as?”

“Remember the first lesson of the board,” Wen told him. “Your greatest opportunities occur when your opponent overextends himself. He becomes easy to cut off. Austin’s aggressiveness makes him vulnerable. I believe we can use his arrogance against him.”

“How?”

“We have planned to move against the Japanese Prime Minister using vaguely American assets. Is that not correct?”

“We have captured two servicemen,” Han insisted. “The American government believes they’ve gone AWOL.”

“Get rid of them,” Wen said. “Their dereliction of duty will make their actions too questionable. In their place, we will use others with more impressive résumés.”

“You mean . . .”

“I do,” Wen said. “How much better for us if a well-known American agent who once worked for the CIA was seen killing the Japanese Prime Minister as he signed a friendship agreement with China? It would infuriate the Japanese public. It would seal the realignment like nothing else.”

Han felt a wave of energy wash over him and he began to grin. “You’re correct as always, Lao-shi. I apologize for not seeing the opportunity sooner. Austin has played directly into our hands.”

31

SHANGHAI

THE HOWLING GRIND of a large engine cut off all conversation as the double-decker bus, with its top removed, accelerated along a crowded road in Shanghai.

Modern buildings passed by on either side, while sharply dressed shoppers walked the streets with bags of brand-name merchandise in their hands. Up ahead, a construction crew worked on the outside lane, slowing traffic to a crawl.

Paul Trout stood on the lower level of the bus, his arm raised high, his hand gripping a strap that hung from the ceiling. Gamay sat in the window seat next to him. After making their way out of the warehouse, they’d bought new shoes and new clothes while formulating a plan to get themselves to the Consulate unseen.

The answer came to Paul in a brochure for Shanghai Tours Ltd. Two hours later, he and Gamay boarded the brightly painted bus and began a slow jaunt around the city.

They rode in relative comfort, surrounded by other tourists, many of whom were European or American. It helped them to blend in instead of sticking out like a sore thumb.