Borger didn’t like to fly, especially in helicopters. He understood all the physics involved. He understood the properties of air pressure and lift. He even understood the dynamics behind autorotation for emergency landings but none of that helped. In the end, his respect for the simple, yet “terminal”, role of gravity ultimately won out.
Borger checked his watch again, anxiously. He recounted the steps in his apparent mistake at waking up Admiral Langford to give him the news about the Chinese ship. He hadn’t expected to be included on a plane flight with Clay and Caesare, now headed south. Nor was he expecting the Oceanhawk, which had been waiting in Grenada to fly them out to sea, do drop onto one of the Navy’s research ships already en route to Guyana.
Borger heard something through his bulky headset and turned away from the window. He leaned forward and peered past Clay, who was seated in the middle. Steve Caesare was slumped quietly against the wall on his side of the narrow cabin. Borger shook his head in amazement. Watching Caesare sleep, despite the thunderous blades of the helicopter, was bad enough. Having to listen to him snore blissfully through the headset was just plain ridiculous.
The blur of the water below them slowed and the helicopter began to bank to the left. As it came around, Borger glimpsed part of the ship below them. Finally, they had arrived.
The USNS Bowditch was one of the Navy’s Oceanographic Survey Ships, performing research for acoustical, biological, physical, and geophysical ocean surveys. At an impressive 328 feet, with a stark white painted hull, it was one of six “Special Mission” ships in the Navy’s Military Sealift Command.
Once the helicopter dropped softly onto the pad, the sliding door next to Borger was pulled open. The face of a petty officer appeared in helmet and goggles. Powerful rotors could be heard winding down above them while the three stooped and climbed down the short set of steps.
Borger, still hunching forward, followed Clay and Caesare across the gray deck and up the two flights of stairs to the ship’s bridge.
A tall and lean Captain Krogstad nodded to all three men as they stepped inside.
“Gentlemen, welcome aboard the Bowditch.”
“Thank you,” they said, almost in unison. Clay stepped forward and extended his hand. “We appreciate the lift, Captain.”
Krogstad eyed Clay as he shook his hand. “I have my orders.”
Clay hoped that was Krogstad’s version of a joke. He knew the Captain was actually longtime friends with Admiral Langford, and had effectively “retired” to a research ship simply to stay off the “hard.”
The fact of the matter was that Krogstad had seen his share of naval incursions over the last thirty years, both official and unofficial. Like many hardened senior officers, he had decided combat was rarely the answer to most problems; something politicians never seemed to figure out. Krogstad had also long since given himself to the sea and, frankly, had no intention of giving up an active command. Not until they took it from him.
The captain turned to the young female officer standing next to him, dressed sharply in a white shirt and skirt. “This is Commander Neely Lawton, our technical officer. She will show you to your quarters and help you with anything you need. Once the chopper’s buttoned up, we can get underway again.” He glanced at his watch. “We should make landfall by tomorrow morning.”
They thanked the captain again and nodded to Commander Lawton. “Welcome, gentlemen,” she said. “If you’ll come with me, please.” With that, she stepped past them and pulled open the door they’d just come through.
The three followed her down another set of stairs to the mid-deck, then along a catwalk to the foredeck. She led them through a series of hallways until they reached an end with doors to each of their cabins.
Lawton motioned to the doors. “Feel free to settle in, gentlemen. Have you been on a Pathfinder class ship before?”
Steve Caesare flashed his winning Italian smile from under his dark mustache. “We sure have.”
Lawton was turning away but stopped and did a double take at his smile. Almost imperceptibly, she furrowed her brow and continued. “Then I assume you know the layout of the ships. I’ll be in the science lab for most of the afternoon. If you’re hungry, please feel free to stop by the cafeteria. Our cook should be there for another couple hours and would be happy to make you something.”
The men thanked her and watched Lawton turn and walk back down the narrow passage. After she disappeared from view, Clay frowned and looked at Caesare.
“Not the reaction you were looking for, eh?” He slapped him on the back. “Maybe your smile is losing its charm.”
Caesare scoffed. “Impossible!”
After an early lunch, the men visited the lab, which was located near the center of the ship and one of the largest sections on the mid-deck. The room, brightly lit from dozens of fluorescent lights overhead, had only a few small windows. The walls were painted in the ship’s familiar light gray, covered with glass-door shelving. The tables were full of science equipment and computers.
Commander Lawton was on the far side of the room, standing over two seated researchers. All three of them studied a huge computer monitor mounted securely above the table. On the screen was a three-dimensional topological map of the ocean floor, with bright orange dots spread uniformly across the picture.
Caesare crossed the light-colored tile floor and stopped next to her, joining them to examine the monitor. “And what do we have here?”
Lawton did not take her eyes off the screen. “It’s part of a new array we’ve been deploying in the eastern Caribbean. Similar to the old hydrophones, but these are based on active sonar technology. More sensitive with a much better range.”
“How many have you deployed?” asked Clay.
She straightened and turned around. “Several thousand square miles so far. We’re still running tests and fine-tuning, but within a few years, we’ll be able to monitor everything larger than a life raft in this area.”
Caesare looked wryly at Clay and Borger. “Could have used that with the Forel.”
“Is that the Russian sub you found near Brazil?” she asked.
“Correct.”
“Any chance you know what direction it came from?” asked Lawton.
“It’s debatable,” Caesare grinned.
“I don’t think it came through your array if that’s what you’re asking.” Clay suddenly had a thought about the Forel. “Although it would be interesting to see what happened if it did. We found it carrying a powerful active noise reduction system on board, which we assumed was used to silence its propulsion system. But now I’m wondering whether it could do something similar with the sound waves from sonar.”
Borger’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wow. I hadn’t thought about that. If those speakers run the length of the sub… that could be big.”
Caesare eyed the two biosafety cabinets behind them, used for providing ultra-sterile testing environments. “So, Commander Lawton, what is your background, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Biology. Systems Biology, to be exact. DNA, proteins, complexes… that sort of thing. We have two other biologists onboard, both biochemists. The rest of our science team is comprised of geologists, oceanographers, and marine ecologists. The technical team covers electronics, sounding and imaging, and a few other areas. All in all, we have a pretty well-rounded group.”
“It certainly sounds like it.”
“Speaking of which, your arrival has us all a little curious. Why exactly are we headed for Guyana if the sub is reportedly in Brazil?”