“In conclusion, Admiral, we’ve-“
Lab Rat broke off abruptly as the insistent, high-pitched ringing of a cellular telephone cut through his briefing.
Pamela shrugged impatiently, reached into her pocket, and withdrew a tiny cell phone. Without even glancing at the admiral or Lab Rat, she flipped it open and answered tersely with her last name.
“Pamelathank God I got you.” Mike Packmeyer’s voice was low and urgent. “You’re still on the carrier, right?”
Pamela drummed her fingers impatiently on the tabletop, and finally looked over at Tombstone. Her fingers stopped when she saw the rage growing in his face. “I am. And I’m kinda busy right now, Mike,” she said quickly.
“Listen, I just need to tell you a couple of things.”
Pamela cut him off. “I said I’m busy.” She punched the power button, breaking off the connection. “My apologies for the interruption, Admiral. I’ve turned the power offit won’t happen again.”
The unexpected apology spun Tombstone’s temper down three degrees. He nodded, softening his frosty glare slightly. “No telephones in the briefing room, Miss Drakethat’s my policy.”
Pamela nodded courteously. “It won’t happen again,” she repeated.
She turned back toward the front of the room.
“Just out of curiosity,” Tombstone added as an afterthought, “who was it?”
Pamela shrugged. “Just another reporter. Jealous, I think.”
“Hunter 701, take with torpedoes upon visual ID,” the aircraft TAO’s voice said calmly. “Or positive acoustic identification.”
Rabies swore quietly. “We’re not gonna get VIDthat would mean she’d have to come up to the surface, and she’s not going to do that during daylight hours. And if we could get acoustic, we would. But we won’t, not in these waters.”
His voice was hard, belying his earlier harassment of Harness. Rabies knew as well as the AW that acoustic contact in the strait was damned near impossible.
“Those are the Rules of Engagement at this point, Rabies,” the TAO said. “Too many possible friendlies in the area to risk an incident.”
“If they’re friendly, what are they doing so near our aircraft carrier?” Rabies demanded. “Anyone who’s on good terms with us is staying well clear of this, as per our stay-away zone.”
The TAO sighed, his frustration evident even over the encrypted circuit. “Like I saiduntil we know who it is, you stay weapons tight.”
“Get me some data,” Rabies snapped at Harness. “Dammit, Harness, if anybody can, you can. You heard the mannow make it happen.”
“Roger.” Harness’s voice was calm. “Let’s saturate this area with sonobuoys. Sooner or later, somebody’s gotta flush the toiletthen I’ll get her.”
The TACCO snorted. “And just how are you going to tell a Turkish toilet from a Russian? Or, for that matter, any one of the other nations that owns these sewer pipes?”
“We’ll solve that problem when we get to it,” Harness said.
The messenger slipped into the compartment and handed Batman a scribbled sheet of paper. He waited, taking a step back as the admiral stood up.
Batman turned to Tombstone. “Submarine activity. I’ll be in TFCC if you need me, Admiral.”
Tombstone shifted his weight as if starting to stand then settled back in his chair. “Call me if you need me,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”
Batman strode into TFCC and assessed the situation with a glance. The symbol designating a hostile submarine was six thousand yards aft of the carrier, its speed leader pointing toward the carrier and Shiloh, now stationed seven thousand yards ahead of the carrier. The submarine was closing on them as they spoke. He turned to the TAO. “Kick her in the ass.”
The TAO nodded. “The bridge is already coming up to twenty knots, Admiral, but this part of the water is lousy with fishing boats. Even at twenty knots, we’re unsafe. Not unless we want to take the risk of running over a civilian craft.”
“Damned sight cheaper to buy them a new one than to replace a shaft on this aircraft carrier,” Batman said tersely. “Twenty-fiveif the Captain thinks he can.”
“Got it,” Harness crowed. He jabbed his forefinger at the waterfall display. “I classify this as Russianor at least, built by the Russians. You understand, I can’t tell you who owns it now.”
“That’s the problem with those damned Russkies,” Rabies snapped. “Dammit, selling their submarines to every pissant little nation that wants one. Is there anything to tell you that it’s not Turkey?”
“It’s not Turkey,” Harness said thoughtfully. “They made some modifications to the electrical systemthis isn’t one of theirs.”
“At least that solves our problem,” the copilot said. “If it’s not Turkey, then we shouldn’t have to worry about them.”
Rabies shot him a scornful look. “We always have to worry about submarines, shipmate. That’s our job.”
“How’bout we go down and take a look?” Harness suggested. “This water’s for shit, but maybe we’ll see him just under the surface. Maybe.”
Rabies shrugged. “Worth a shot.”
He tipped the S-3 back down and headed for the surface of the water. “Are you holding contact enough to track him?”
“I just got a couple of hitsenough to say that he’s probably headed north, right in behind the carrier.”
“Whoever she is, we’re staying right on top of her,” Rabies answered.
The S-3 skimmed along, too close to the surface of the ocean for comfort.
Rabies put her in a gentle circle, orbiting around the spot at which they had gained acoustic contact. All four crew members peered out of the windows, desperate for a glimpse of the submarine.
Suddenly, just ahead of them, the ocean exploded. Water geysered up sixty feet, almost grazing the bottom of the aircraft. With a sharp yelp, Rabies yanked the S-3 into a steep climb and slammed the throttles forward to avoid a stall. In the backseat, Harness howled and snatched the earphones off of his head.
“What the fuck was that?” Rabies demanded. “Jesus, did we-?”
“No, we didn’t,” the copilot said firmly. “All of our weapons are still hanging off the wings.”
“Then what was that?”
“Harness, stop that damned caterwauling!” Rabies snapped.
“It was a fucking explosion,” Harness finally said. His voice was high and tremulous. “Damn, just about blew my eardrums out.”
The TACCO next to him leaned over and looked at the waterfall display.
“No doubt about it,” he confirmed. “A huge blast of noise all across the spectrum, on all buoys. Something damned big went boom down there.”
“Look.”
Rabies tipped the jet over to the left to get a better view of the water below. The Bosphorus Strait was a major waterway in this part of the world. As such, the surface was usually glazed with debris and dirt, an oily film mixing with the surface layer of the water to form a thin emulsion. Even given the dirty water, though, the evidence was clear.
The massive oil slick was spreading out below them, cluttered with bits of debris and odd unidentifiable parts.
“Jesus, that submarinewhat the hell happened to her?” Rabies finally said. “We sure as hell didn’t do it. Did we?”
“Absolutely not.”
The copilot’s voice was firm. “You want to go outside and check yourself?”
Rabies shook his head. “Then what happened?”
“A mine,” Harness said. His voice was steady now, all traces of his earlier pain gone. “A mineyou know how this strait isthat’s what it had to be. The submarine trailer hit a mine.”