“Dogface” Richardson, a second-class petty officer, and “Buckethead” Williams, a chief, untied themselves from the tie line and swam up to the hull. When they returned after a few moments Buckethead shook his head — the hull above them was at the seaward end of the pier, making it the Jianghu frigate. The ships guarding the Tampa were further west. The team swam west along the pier until they reached the next hull, which would be the Udaloy guided-missile destroyer.
Then the platoons split up.
First platoon took their gear and set it up near the pier between the Chinese ships. Second platoon set up beneath the Udaloy, beginning work laying the keel breaking satchel charges under the destroyer. Third platoon hauled their explosives beneath the hull of the Tampa further south to the outboard destroyer, the Luda, and began deployment of their charges.
Morris checked his watch. It was taking too goddamned long, he thought, wondering if he should have taken Pacino up on the offer to use the cruise missiles.
But using Javelins here would be like a surgeon forsaking a scalpel for a chainsaw. He and Black Bart swam back and forth between the platoons, making sure the men were making progress, that the plan was proceeding.
Finally Morris signaled to Bart to come up to look at the pier, and the two divers ascended at the bow of the Udaloy. Morris disconnected from his lanyard and climbed a pier piling, the tar from it sticking to his hands. Near the top of the piling he climbed off onto a horizontal timber that was there to cushion the concrete pier from ship impacts. He cautiously lifted his head above the level of the pier, then ducked back down and silently reentered the water. The pier was crawling with guards, but the buses were not yet occupied and there was no evidence of a crew off load He and Bart returned to the underside of the Udaloy.
Under the hull of the USS Tampa, on the bottom of the silty bay, huddled with the assault weapons, sat Commander Kurt Lennox, his mask fogged from his heavy breathing. Every few moments he turned his head to look at the submarine above him, seeing nothing but a black blur, thinking that in a very few moments he would be back aboard her, and in a few moments after that he could be dead. Morris swam by and gave him a thumbs up.
Lennox appreciated it as he looked up again at the hull of the Tampa and told himself that just maybe Sean Murphy was going to get out of this in one piece.
CHAPTER 17
Sean Murphy had no idea how long he’d been unconscious.
When he came to the butt of the AK-47 again in his ribs, his whole body was in pain. As he tried to focus on the interrogator’s face, he realized that he now wanted to die. He tried to bring back Katrina, Sean junior and Emily, but the Chinese had taken the most prized thing he possessed — his memories of their faces. He could no longer remember the face of his wife of thirteen years, or the face of his firstborn.
Death would be welcome.
“You are in pain,” Tien said, his voice quiet.
“Let’s take you to the hospital where we can attend that wound and help you get rest. The base hospital has some of the softest beds in the world. Think of the cool crisp white sheets, the deep feather pillow in a cotton pillowcase. This is no way to live, my friend. All your resistance will do is make you sick — and delay the ship’s departure. We have said we need your statement only for public opinion. If the words are not your own, your people will understand. After all, you are being detained, they will not hold any of this against you. I would guess the only matter your commanders will be annoyed with is allowing your ship’s departure to be delayed by your insistence on not making the statement. Commander, if it were up to me, I would let it go without the confounded statement, but I have senior officers overseeing my missions. Please see my side. We are not so different, you and I.”
The words washed over Sean Murphy, he barely heard them.
“I have a present for you,” Tien said, picking up a phone and speaking into it for a moment. After he put the phone down, he looked at the overhead as the Circuit One announcing speaker crackled with Lube Oil Vaughn’s voice:
“THE REACTOR … IS CRITICAL!”
Tien was as delighted as if he had just thrown Murphy a surprise party.
“You see, I told you we would get your ship ready to go. We replaced whole sections of your steam-piping loop and reinsulated the lines. I am told that several of the steam valves needed to be replaced. Otherwise, your propulsion plant is, as you say, shipshape. Our nuclear-power experts have been over the plant inspecting it for the purpose of getting the ship ready to leave so you can return home. They say the ship is amazing.”
The lights in the overhead flickered, and suddenly the ventilation ducts boomed into operation, blowing cool fresh air into the room. At least Tien had not been kidding about Vaughn starting the reactor and steam plants, even though they were probably only starting the plant to provide power. Without shore power the battery would soon have run out of juice and they would have had to abandon the submarine.
Probably they figured the statement could be gotten from him more easily aboard the ship than in a barracks ashore.
Again they brought in the camera and TelePrompTer, but before they turned it on, Tien popped a video in the VCR and turned on the television. He pressed the play button, and Sean Murphy’s front yard flashed onto the screen, with Katrina and Sean and Emily looking into the picture.
“Sean, honey, we love you and we miss you. I don’t know when you’ll get this,” Katrina said into the camera, her auburn hair blowing in the breeze, “but maybe you can play it at sea and remember how much we love you.”
His son said: “Hurry home, Daddy. Mommy says you’re poking holes in the ocean but I know you can’t make a hole in water. I told my class what you do at show-and-tell today. Everyone said it sounded neat. Come home soon, Daddy—”
Tien stopped the tape.
Murphy fought not to show his feelings as he became aware that the camera was focused on his face.
The TelePrompTer stared at him: “MY NAME IS COMMANDER SEAN MURPHY” … Murphy blinked hard and stared at the camera lens and began to speak, his voice a raspy croak.
“I am an American fighting man,” he said, trying to recite the Code of Conduct.
“I serve in the forces which guard my country and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defense—”
“No,” Tien broke in.
“That is not what the script says.” He waved to the guard.
“Bring in Tarkowski,” he said, resignation in his voice.
A shot of bile hit Murphy’s stomach as he realized they were going to torture Tarkowski for his benefit.
The control room began to seem confining, Pacino thought, impatient with the need to act, to fire weapons, to do something, anything, to get Murphy out.
Somehow the idea of trusting this rescue to swimmers who could only take out the hatch that they came in with seemed a bad idea. With the torpedo room full of weapons, with his number one and two tubes loaded with Javelin cruise missiles, both ready to fire, both tube outer doors open … For the second time in a half hour he asked Tim Turner the status of the Javelins.