Yesterday Hobby saved a man from a sinking boat a few miles offshore.
The unconscious man had suffered a bad head wound.
We took him to University Hospital. Early this morning we went to the site of the sinking and made a dive to inspect the sunken craft.
We recovered the boat's log and an interesting piece of salvage that was imbedded in the crushed bow of the ill-fated vessel. From the log we learned the skipper was an Australian named Jack Hayes. Back onshore, we called the hospital and learned that Mr. Hayes had regained consciousness; we were anxious to see him.
The nurse said, "He's in 232. He's been expecting you."
When we entered the room I said, "Jack Hayes?" He replied, "You must be the blokes who brought me in."
"Right on," Hobby said as he approached Jack with his hand extended. "My name's Hobby Newton and this is my friend, Joe Crest."
"Well, I'm damned grateful. But what happened?"
As I shook his hand I said, "Why don't you tell us what you remember, first?" This is all a bloody mystery to me. I had almost completed a six-week solo sail from Australia. Last I remember I was checking the charts and thinking I was within a half-hour from shore. That's it. After that, my mind's a complete blank"
"Joe, tell him what we know."
"Okay. We spotted your sinking boat as we were cruising south on Hobby's Lazybuns during a sea trial. When we drew up close, Hobby, with no regard for his own life, jumped overboard. As your boat went under so did Hobby. A couple minutes later he surfaced with you in tow."
"Sonofabitch, if you'll pardon the expression. You saved m'bloody life!" He fought back tears as he said, "I'm not worth someone risking their life for, but I'm truly grateful you did."
After some mutual slobbering I continued. "This morning Hobby and I went to the site and made a dive. We confirmed what Hobby had postulated. You suffered a massive head-on collision with something that punched a huge hole in your bow. The impact evidently caused you to smash your head into the control console.
You were unconscious and covered with blood when Hobby found you."
"The hell, you say. I never saw anything in front of me. What was it?"
"Can't be sure, but I've got an idea. We can check it out," I said.
"Well, have at it, mate. So much for the boat, anyway. I got it for free. Won it in a poker game. But damn fool that I am, I bet the man I won it from a hundred- thousand dollars that I could sail it to America and back, solo. So now I'm out a boat and a good chunk of money."
"Are you a professional poker player?" Hobby asked.
"You might say so. But it's getting to be a crowded field in Australia since Joe Hachem won the WSOP in Las Vegas last year. You fellows play the game?"
"Yeah," I said. "We do, and we also enjoy a good mystery. Would you like us to give you a hand with yours?"
"I can't imagine what you can do for me, but I'm not about to refuse any kind of help."
"Good. What's your situation with the hospital?"
"They'll keep me under observation another day. Then I'll be discharged. I'll get in touch with my bank to settle up here and then make plans to fly home."
"Here's my card and cell phone number. If we have any luck before you leave, we'll let you know," I said.
As we walked to the car Hobby asked, "What are you cooking up, Joe? I know that was not just an idle remark you made about us helping Jack."
"It may fizzle out in a hurry, but I'm hopeful. Do you remember Captain Pete Newell who we met in Catalina last spring? He's a Naval Intelligence Officer in San Diego. We're going to pay him a visit if I can get in touch with him."
We lucked out; Hobby and I were on the next shuttle flight south. Pete said he would meet us at the commuter terminal. I was looking for a Naval officer when someone in a Hawaiian shirt spoke up. "Joe, Hobby, over here."
"Hi, Pete. We were expecting the full dress uniform. How're you doing?"
"Well, I was doing fine until someone alerted me to a possible international incident. Let's go to the Admiral's Club so I can see what you've got."
In a secluded corner of the club I gave Pete the story about Hobby rescuing Jack Hayes. "Here's what you might be interested in Pete." I opened up the envelope I had been carrying and withdrew the 8x10 photos I'd shot with the underwater camera. "You can see there was a violent collision.
The skipper claims he was on watch and never saw a thing. So we're assuming it was a submerged object, something big and heavy.
Look at this picture. See the bar that's stuck in the hull? I pulled it loose and took it topside. Here's a close up of a portion that has some numbers and Chinese characters."
"I'll be damned. Wow!"
He was silent a moment then said, "This is a security issue, Joe. I've got to confiscate these pictures and I'll also want the object you photographed." He said no more and stared at me.
"That's it?" I asked.
"I'm afraid so. We have the authority to do this."
"That's not exactly what I expected from you, Pete."
"I'm sorry, guys. I've got to go by the book."
"Pete, maybe you do," Hobby said, "but we're civilians. I'll just call my friend at the L.A. Times and tell him that a Chinese submarine-illegally in our coastal waters- rammed and sank a civilian sailboat and nearly killed the skipper."
"Hobby, that would make for one hell of a rhubarb, but what good would it do? Look, guys, I'm as pissed about this as you are. I'll take this to the Admiral. Maybe I can turn this into a win-win situation. Give me a couple hours?"
"Okay, Pete. I'm not too happy about this, but you're our best chance. Hobby and I will take a cab to Mister A's. We'll see you there."
Settled at a small table in the lounge Hobby said, "I'm glad you thought of this place, Joe. Their margaritas are great and the view of San Diego from up here is superb."
"Well said, Hobby," I agreed. "Might as well enjoy it for now. We may not be feeling so good if Pete's boss takes a hard line."
It was almost three hours from the time we left Pete when he walked into the lounge. His sober look wasn't very reassuring.
"Sorry it took so long," Pete said as he scanned the room, "this isn't the best place to have a discussion. Let's go down to Harbor Drive. We've got a secure room there."
"Jeez, I'm beginning to feel like a spy," Hobby said. Pete's look said he didn't find it amusing.
Pete introduced us to another officer who led the way through a pair of heavy-duty doors into a windowless room. Pete immediately took over.
"What I'm going to say is hypothetical and confidential. If any of it leaks to the press, we'll deny it and you could be subject to serious charges. Those are the ground rules. Do you agree to them?"
I looked at Hobby; he was nodding assent. I did the same.
"Let's speculate that the Chinese are spying from within our territorial waters and they had a collision with a civilian craft. They would cut and run. If somehow they were identified and confronted, it might create an international incident. But they would obfuscate, deny, and withdraw their submarines from our shores. There would be no benefit to your friend, and we would loose an important source of data."
"I don't get it. What do you mean we would loose an important source of data?"
"This is critical point. Let's say, hypothetically, that we know all about their surveillance but don't want them to know we know because we are getting vital information from them."
"Yeah. I think I get it. But, how does this help us?"
"Let's suppose you were to go to the Chinese consulate with your photos; demand monetary compensation or threaten to take it public. I think you'd have a shot at if you played your cards right, but that's up to you. I hope I'm clear because that's all I'm going to say."
On the flight back to L.A. Hobby said, "I'm confused. Do you think we can make a deal with the Chinese?"
"Hobby, I think we're pretty good at bluffing.
Let's see if we can do a number on the inscrutables."
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