Warshot (The Hunter Killer Series Book 6) by Don Keith (top ten ebook reader TXT) 📗

vice deputy, Soo Be Xian. But in the convoluted tripartite labyrinth of Chinese governance, titles did not necessarily denote hierarchy. In his case, Yon carried a similar title in the Communist Party’s Central Military Commission. Soo did not. That made them about equal in rank and power. However, neither official had so far tested the pecking order.

When the lion prowls near the tiger, both are wary.

“If Minister Soo’s office should call again, tell them that I am en route to the ceremonial offices at Zhongnanhai,” Yon answered Bing Dou’s question. “I will meet with the minister there. We can then discuss our next steps.”

Yon clicked off. But always the obsessive-compulsive, he checked the phone again to be certain they were disconnected.

Next steps, indeed. Steps long in preparation. Steps now ready for implementation.

He tapped the partition between him and his driver.

“Could we stop admiring the scenery and proceed to work? With some haste, please?”

Ψ

TJ Dillon took a sip from his cup of tea, but his interest was on the far wall of the room. Across the table from him, Professor Sun Shen clicked the remote control, changing the charts and images on a presentation playing out on the large-screen monitor that covered much of the room beyond the table. The two men were sitting in the professor’s office in the expansive glass-and-brick Central Weather Bureau offices in downtown Taipei, Taiwan. Traffic bustled past on the nearby Gongyuan Road, but the sound was little more than a distant hum, no louder than the projector’s fan.

The screen revealed a chart of the island of Taiwan and the surrounding ocean in a colorful three-dimensional representation. A red dot appeared in the deep water, well to the east of the island. Then, as they watched, a series of concentric circles developed and radiated out from the dot.

“As you see, Mr. Dillon,” the professor stated, “an earthquake happening in deep water sends a shockwave out that propagates at the speed of sound in water, roughly one and a half kilometers per second. Or in your American measurements, about a mile a second. Most of the damaging earthquakes we have suffered have had epicenters at one hundred to one hundred and fifty miles offshore. That gives us about a minute to a minute and a half before a tsunami would strike.”

TJ Dillon shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Sure ain’t much warnin’, Perfessor,” he drawled, doing his best imitation of a Texan accent. “Reckon that’s enough time to make much difference?”

Professor Sun Shen offered a wry smile and took a sip of his own tea before responding.

“There might be enough warning to get some of the emergency procedures underway. To put the sea gates in place to help prevent some of the flooding. But the tsunami is not our biggest problem. The more serious issue is the earthquake propagation through the crust.”

He clicked a button. Suddenly, the concentric circles developed and radiated out from the red dot at almost lightning speed.

“As you can see, the tremors pass through rock at over five times the speed at which they travel through water. Where we had nearly two minutes’ notification for the tsunami, we only have about twenty seconds’ warning of the earthquake’s shock wave. That is especially problematic for a number of reasons. For example, it takes fifteen seconds for an emergency stop of the bullet train, the Gaotie High Speed Rail. Those trains have less than half a meter’s clearance when they are in the tunnels. At three hundred kilometers per hour, with this much distance between the train and the concrete walls...” Sun held his hands twenty inches apart. “And with so little warning of a powerful earthquake, you can imagine the catastrophe.”

Dillon shook his head. “Wow! What you want us to do, then?”

“Mr. Dillon, we think that your company’s experience in planting deep water seismic sensors can give us the additional warning we need to possibly prevent such destruction and terrible loss of life.” Professor Sun Shen searched through a high stack of papers on his desk, found the one he wanted, and pulled it out. “I would like for you to go talk to Ameri Wang. He runs a construction company out on Yong Chi Road called GroundMat. I think your two companies may be able to make this work for the benefit of all.”

TJ Dillon took the offered slip of paper, shook the academic’s hand, thanked him for the presentation and the tea, and headed out. Back on the street, he watched the hustle and bustle all around with interest as he waited for his car. Dillon was once again impressed with the work ethic and efficiency of the people of this country, despite the constant threat from China hanging like a black cloud over them. He could not imagine what it must be like to live and thrive in the shadow of a massive and powerful nation, one that constantly maintained that they would one day take a step across the Taiwan Strait and stake their final claim on the island.

Dillon pulled out his phone and quickly placed an overseas call. The conversation was short and terse.

“We’re in,” he reported, now with no hint of a West Texas twang. “You have the sensor mods ready?”

The voice at the other end replied curtly. “We’ll be ready in time. Just make certain you get the gig without risking blowing our cover.”

“Easiest assignment you’ve given me in a long time, Boss,” Dillon shot back.

He ended the call. Then, always a bit obsessive-compulsive, he double-checked to be sure he had cut the connection.

Dillon’s car pulled to the curb and he hopped in.

Ψ

The sun was just rising to the east, peeking above the wavetops out beyond Molokai. A warm breeze from the west brought the sweet scent of tropical vegetation out over the deep blue waters of the Pacific. Colorful small boats played near the shoreline and the high-rises of Oahu to the north, while large merchant