Read Online Jack Ryan, Books 7-12 by Tom Clancy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tom Clancy
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would not end because of words here, neither would they be completely forgotten. “How many of us,” Yamata went on, “have been victims of these people?”
Yamata hadn’t said “barbarians,” the other Japanese citizens at the table noted. The reason was the presence of the two other men. One of them, Vice Admiral V. K. Chandraskatta, was a fleet commander of the Indian Navy, currently on leave. The other, Zhang Han San—the name meant “Cold Mountain” and had not been given by his parents—was a senior Chinese diplomat, part of a trade mission to Tokyo. The latter individual was more easily accepted than the former. With his swarthy skin and sharp features, Chandraskatta was regarded by the others with polite contempt. Though an educated and very bright potential ally, he was even more gaijin than the Chinese guest, and the eight zaibatsu around the table each imagined that he could smell the man, despite their previous intake of sake, which usually deadened the senses. For this reason, Chandraskatta occupied the place of honor, at Yamata’s right hand, and the zaibatsu wondered if the Indian grasped that this supposed honor was merely a sophisticated mark of contempt. Probably not. He was a barbarian, after all, though perhaps a useful one.
“They are not as formidable as they once were, I admit, Yamata- san , but I assure you,” Chandraskatta said in his best Dartmouth English, “their navy remains quite formidable. Their two carriers in my ocean are enough to give my navy pause.”
Yamata turned his head. “You could not defeat them, even with your submarines?”
“No,” the Admiral answered honestly, largely unaffected by the evening’s drink, and wondering where all this talk was leading. “You must understand that this question is largely a technical exercise—a science experiment, shall we say?” Chandraskatta adjusted the kimono Yamata had given him, to make him a real member of this group, he’d said. “To defeat an enemy fleet, you must get close enough for your weapons to reach his ships. With their surveillance assets, they can monitor our presence and our movements from long distance. Thus they can maintain a covering presence on us from a range of, oh, something like six hundred kilometers. Since we are unable to maintain a corresponding coverage of their location and course, we cannot maneuver them out of place very easily.”
“And that’s why you haven’t moved on Sri Lanka yet?” Tanzan Itagake asked.
“It is one of the considerations.” The Admiral nodded.
“How many carriers do they now have?” Itagake went on.
“In their Pacific Fleet? Four. Two in our ocean, two based in Hawaii.”
“What of the other two?” Yamata inquired.
“Kitty Hawk and Ranger are in extended overhaul status, and will not be back at sea for one and three years, respectively. Seventh Fleet currently has all the carriers. First Fleet has none. The U.S. Navy has five other carriers in commission. These are assigned to the Second and Sixth fleets, with one entering overhaul status in six weeks.” Chandraskatta smiled. His information was completely up to date, and he wanted his hosts to know that. “I must tell you that as depleted as the U.S. Navy may appear to be, compared to only—what? five years ago? Compared to five years ago, then, they are quite weak, but compared to any other navy in the world, they are still immensely strong. One of their carriers is the equal of every other aircraft carrier in the world.”
“You agree, then, that their aircraft carriers are their most potent weapon?” Yamata asked.
“Of course.” Chandraskatta rearranged the things on the table. In the center he put an empty sake bottle. “Imagine that this is the carrier. Draw a thousand-kilometer circle around it. Nothing exists in that circle without the permission of the carrier air group. In fact, by increasing their operating tempo, that radius extends to fifteen hundred kilometers. They can
Yamata hadn’t said “barbarians,” the other Japanese citizens at the table noted. The reason was the presence of the two other men. One of them, Vice Admiral V. K. Chandraskatta, was a fleet commander of the Indian Navy, currently on leave. The other, Zhang Han San—the name meant “Cold Mountain” and had not been given by his parents—was a senior Chinese diplomat, part of a trade mission to Tokyo. The latter individual was more easily accepted than the former. With his swarthy skin and sharp features, Chandraskatta was regarded by the others with polite contempt. Though an educated and very bright potential ally, he was even more gaijin than the Chinese guest, and the eight zaibatsu around the table each imagined that he could smell the man, despite their previous intake of sake, which usually deadened the senses. For this reason, Chandraskatta occupied the place of honor, at Yamata’s right hand, and the zaibatsu wondered if the Indian grasped that this supposed honor was merely a sophisticated mark of contempt. Probably not. He was a barbarian, after all, though perhaps a useful one.
“They are not as formidable as they once were, I admit, Yamata- san , but I assure you,” Chandraskatta said in his best Dartmouth English, “their navy remains quite formidable. Their two carriers in my ocean are enough to give my navy pause.”
Yamata turned his head. “You could not defeat them, even with your submarines?”
“No,” the Admiral answered honestly, largely unaffected by the evening’s drink, and wondering where all this talk was leading. “You must understand that this question is largely a technical exercise—a science experiment, shall we say?” Chandraskatta adjusted the kimono Yamata had given him, to make him a real member of this group, he’d said. “To defeat an enemy fleet, you must get close enough for your weapons to reach his ships. With their surveillance assets, they can monitor our presence and our movements from long distance. Thus they can maintain a covering presence on us from a range of, oh, something like six hundred kilometers. Since we are unable to maintain a corresponding coverage of their location and course, we cannot maneuver them out of place very easily.”
“And that’s why you haven’t moved on Sri Lanka yet?” Tanzan Itagake asked.
“It is one of the considerations.” The Admiral nodded.
“How many carriers do they now have?” Itagake went on.
“In their Pacific Fleet? Four. Two in our ocean, two based in Hawaii.”
“What of the other two?” Yamata inquired.
“Kitty Hawk and Ranger are in extended overhaul status, and will not be back at sea for one and three years, respectively. Seventh Fleet currently has all the carriers. First Fleet has none. The U.S. Navy has five other carriers in commission. These are assigned to the Second and Sixth fleets, with one entering overhaul status in six weeks.” Chandraskatta smiled. His information was completely up to date, and he wanted his hosts to know that. “I must tell you that as depleted as the U.S. Navy may appear to be, compared to only—what? five years ago? Compared to five years ago, then, they are quite weak, but compared to any other navy in the world, they are still immensely strong. One of their carriers is the equal of every other aircraft carrier in the world.”
“You agree, then, that their aircraft carriers are their most potent weapon?” Yamata asked.
“Of course.” Chandraskatta rearranged the things on the table. In the center he put an empty sake bottle. “Imagine that this is the carrier. Draw a thousand-kilometer circle around it. Nothing exists in that circle without the permission of the carrier air group. In fact, by increasing their operating tempo, that radius extends to fifteen hundred kilometers. They can
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