Suddenly from behind him a voice said, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Commander.”
Fagan whirled around to see the face of Vtorak Borisovich Pankov sighting down the barrel of his .45 caliber pistol at very close range.
“Pankov!” Fagan exclaimed. “You made it! Uh — Uri and I were just checking out our torpedo.”
Aaron snuck a glance at Katya that said, Your father’s in on this? But she could only wish with all her heart it wasn’t true.
“The nuclear warhead was my idea,” Pankov said.
“But why? Fagan said. “What could you possibly hope to —”
“You know as well as I do, Commander,” Pankov said, interrupting him, “mission failure is not an option. We can’t take a chance on merely damaging the President’s sub. We must destroy it.”
“But we can’t miss, Captain,” Fagan argued. “We’ll be right on top of them. How can we miss?”
Uri Ruden stepped up to add his two cents. “Why squander a chance to take out one third of the United States’s entire Naval Pacific Fleet, as well as downtown San Diego’s financial district?”
Fagan looked at the two men and his heart fell. He knew it was futile to argue. He decided to take a different tack. “If you do this, Captain,” he said, “the explosion will take us out too, you know. You, Uri here, and Jason Souther.”
“I am aware of that, Commander,” Pankov said calmly. “But you said yourself you would do anything to see this mission succeed.”
“You’re right,” Fagan said. “I do want the President dead. And I’d be willing to sacrifice myself and a few good Navy men to make it happen. But not an entire city! or the entire world!”
“Let’s say we did use a conventional weapon,” Uri said, “and we were lucky enough to survive the blast. Just how did you figure we would get away, Commander? Where would you have had us go?”
“I figured in the attending confusion it would work itself out,” Fagan said quickly. “But it’s not my life I’m concerned about… it’s those of millions of innocent civilians.”
He turned to Pankov. “Please reconsider, Captain. As one officer to another… I’m begging you. Please stop this madness. We’re looking at starting World War III here.”
Pankov leveled his gun on Fagan. “Goodbye, Commander,” said. “We appreciate your service to your country.”
“Father, NO!” Katya screamed.
Aaron reached to cover her mouth, but he was too late.
Fagan saw his chance and dove for Pankov’s gun. The girls screamed as the two men crashed into the torpedo rack and fought wildly, flying from one side of the small chamber to the other, exchanging punches, kicking, and clawing each other in a desperate, chaotic fight.
Uri cowered up against a set of valves, the girls screaming and crying, the men smashing each other’s faces, spattering blood around the room. Aaron danced back and forth, searching for an opening through which he could help Fagan — but all he had was his pocketknife, and the struggle was much too violent.
At last Fagan managed to knock Pankov’s gun free and haul him to the floor where he raised his fist to deliver a knockout blow.
Pop!
The silenced bullet entered Fagan’s back through his ribcage, piercing his heart. He went limp and rolled onto the floor, dead.
Pankov turned to see Jason Souther standing next to the watertight hatch, a thin stream of smoke curling out his pistol barrel.
“Having a little problem, Captain?” Jason said. He had heard everything.
Pankov got to his feet and straightened his rumpled uniform. He was covered in blood, his hair flying wildly about his head, the cuts on his face and lips purple and bleeding.
“It is dangerous to discharge a weapon aboard a submarine, Jason,” he said calmly, spitting blood.
“Duly noted, sir,” Jason said.
Pankov found a rag and wiped most of the blood from his face, and then he picked up his gun and turned it on the three stowaways hiding behind the rack.
“Come out where I can see you,” he ordered. “Hands in the air.”
Aaron tucked his knife into his shoe and the three climbed out from behind the rack and stood facing Pankov.
Pankov looked at Uri, disgusted. “I am so glad I could count on you in a fight,” he said sourly. “I thought you carried a damn sidearm.”
Uri just stood there looking sheepish. “I do,” he said.
Pankov found a roll of duct tape and tossed it to him. “Tie them up,” he said. “Then meet me in the Control Center and prepare to dive.”
“Dive, sir?” Uri said. “But we still have guests on board.”
“The party is over for them, Captain,” Pankov said. "Even you must know they have heard too much to be set free. The mission begins now!” He turned to leave.
“What about Ekatarina?” Uri said after him. “She’s your daughter, sir.”
Pankov stopped and looked back at Uri. “Are you going to follow orders, Captain? Or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot?”
Uri looked at the hostages, and for a moment he chose the latter, thinking that under the circumstances it was his best option. But as an experienced military officer he knew it would be safer to follow orders.
“Yes, sir, Comrade Captain,” he said, standing straight.
He glanced at Fagan's body. “But we are severely undermanned now, sir.”
Pankov took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled out his mouth. “I am aware that we are down a man, Uri," he said. "What would you have me do? Call off the mission? Is that what you are asking me to do?”
“N-no, sir,” Uri said stupidly.
Katya looked at Pankov with fear, disbelief, and tears in her eyes. He had become an evil stranger now, her mortal enemy, a dark shadow of the man who had raised her. “Why are you doing this, Father?” she said. “What’s happened to you?”
Pankov ignored her and turned to Jason. “I am grateful there is someone in this room whose loyalty need not be questioned.”
“Yes, sir,” Jason said. He saw Brandy looking at him, and for a moment he looked back at her, but the overwhelming sadness in her eyes made him look away.
Pankov turned to Uri and said, “We’ll be in the Control Center. Report there when you are finished. And do something about that body. We will need all the fresh air we can get.”
He and Jason ducked out through the watertight hatch.
“You heard the man,” Uri Ruden said. “Let’s go.” He indicated the starboard torpedo rack with a wave of his duct tape.
Aaron searched Uri’s eyes for a moment, hoping to find a glimmer of compassion. But there was nothing there, so he turned toward the rack, feeling the barrel of a pistol jam into his lower back.
Uri directed the three hostages to sit together on the floor, and then he used the tape to tie them securely to the rack.
~ PART III ~
Chapter 52
Ashley Quinn had heard what sounded like the terrifying, muffled sounds of fighting. Not knowing what else to do, she had stayed where she was, glued to her seat at the chart table in the Control Room, waiting nervously for her boyfriend to return.