“Secure channel, O’Neil.”
“Aye, sir. We’re ready,” he responded as he lit up the board in front of him.
Jim grinned before he spoke. “Send message: ‘Reel your pecker in.’”
O’Neil sent the message. Immediately sonar responded.
“Object is moving away, Captain.” Bumper stuck his head in the RRCC.
“Message coming in, sir. It’s the Ohio. Captain Issel on line.”
“On speaker.”
The secured channel crackled as the computers unscrambled the voice. Issel was in a jolly mood. “Hickman. Still sneaking around the depths like a ghost, I see. What is it? We’ve got your signature.”
“My ship is still classified.” Jim knew Issel well, and he knew it chapped his ass that he didn’t get chosen for the War Eagle’s command. That gave him great satisfaction. The biggest known secret to the elite of naval sub commanders was the War Eagle, though very few had ever seen it. Issel, being the professional he was, would burn the signature data.
“It’s not too exciting sitting up here, Jim. Besides a few fishing boats, nothing has changed in the Barents. The grid we were listening to gives four Russian destroyers in a security pattern. They’re protecting something.”
This jibed with Josh’s observations from ODIS. “How long have you been here?” asked Hickman.
“About two weeks,” replied Issel.
“Then Stemovich hasn’t made it to the sub yet,” Josh stated.
“It appears that way.” Jim returned his attention to the Ohio. “Thanks, Captain. We’ll handle it from here.”
“Okay, Jim. By the way, what did you say the name of your ship was?”
“I didn’t. Hickman out.”
Bumper returned to the RRCC. “Sonar’s got a boomer moving slowly two thousand yards to starboard. Signature matches the USS Ohio.”
“That was their towed sonar we almost ran over, Bump. Good job on picking it up.”
“Thanks, Cap.”
Josh listened intently to the conversations in the RRCC. “We’re in the Barents. Right?”
“Not really,” said Jim. “We’ve positioned ourselves a couple of miles outside. Giving us a wider area to listen to.”
“Can we surface?”
“Only if we have to.”
“What’s our depth?”
“Two hundred and sixty. You can turn on your equipment and take a peek.”
Josh looked at O’Neil. “I hope your tinkering helps, guys.”
“Sure it will,” assured O’Neil. He remembered that they had wired ODIS without the captain’s permission. He now felt Jim’s stare at the back of his neck. “Captain. We helped Captain Brand here boost his receiver for his video screen.”
“It’s not going to affect our equipment’s operations,” said Jim. It was more an order than a question.
“No, sir. It sure won’t.”
Jim raised one eyebrow, telling the two ensigns to be careful what they do, or it’ll be their asses. “I’ll be in CIC.” He left.
Josh didn’t waste time; he pulled ODIS out and flipped it on. The screen fuzzed and snapped as it warmed, then it came in clear. He secured a signal from a satellite passing right overhead. After tuning to the thermal lens, he zoomed into the twelve-square-mile area. The cold sea read a constant black. Josh watched intently as he did a few more adjustments. Then a sharp laugh. “Fuck me.”
McLeary and O’Neil were hanging on his breath. “What? Is something wrong?”
“No.” Josh laughed. “You guys just accomplished what four engineers have been trying to do for two years. See these destroyers?” Josh pointed them out with his fingers. Both ensigns were glued. “They’re burning up. We could never get them this hot in Houston.”
“Wow,” they replied.
There was more for Josh to be excited about. “Look here! We’ve breached a thermal layer. I’m getting radiation readings from the bottom of the ocean! They’re faint, but they’re there. Fuck me again.”
“What does that mean?” asked O’Neil.
“It’s picking up where they have dumped some of their nuclear subs. Not all of them, I think. Some readings are too faint. Just the ones whose reactors are still cooling down.” He moved around the screen and found the radiation signature that burned the hottest. “See this one here. That’s got to be the last sub they dropped on the floor. That real funky one.”
“What do you mean by funky?” The ensigns were a little bewildered.
“Funky like it is a big problem.”
To Josh, the description meant nothing. To McLeary and O’Neil, it was a source of grave concern.
McLeary turned to O’Neil. “Funky is not good.”
The moment of truth for George had come. He and Mohsen had reached Kirov in good time and were disembarking when Mohsen whispered that Stemovich was to be waiting for them.
“Where will we go from here?”
“I don’t know,” replied Mohsen.
George fretted by maintaining a stoic posture. A thousand miles deep in Russia carrying $200 million, and now they had to trust an ex-Soviet who was about to steal a sub for them. Brilliant plan, Mohsen.
“We won’t give him all the money until we have our ship.” Mohsen foolishly believed that he was still in charge.
George didn’t want to burst his bubble because he found Mohsen’s ignorance amusing. Stemovich had led them inland, as far away from water as possible, surrounded by miles of Russian territory, and Mohsen thought he was holding the cards. He knew it was about over for them. He knew that Stemovich planned to take the money and not deliver. He knew that he would laugh when he witnessed the look on Mohsen’s face as Stemovich forcefully took the case and left. It was truly a glorious moment for George. The end of his last mission in sight and home just around the corner. It looked like Levi was going to be right. Stemovich was getting ready to laugh all the way to the bank.
The airport wasn’t crowded because so few people could afford to fly. “Do you speak English?” asked Mohsen.
“Very well, as a matter of fact,” replied George.
“Good. It is the only language we can use to communicate to Stemovich. Unless you know Russian.”
“I don’t,” said George, knowing the situation already. Stemovich stuck out like a sore thumb among the people waiting for the passengers. He had a military air about him as he stood with the rest of the crowd.
Mohsen spotted him and greeted him warmly. “Andri, my friend.”
Stemovich was all business and concerned about George’s presence. “I was under the impression that you would come alone.”
“Last-minute change. Mr. Akbar had to be accommodated, for various financial reasons.”
Stemovich didn’t like it, but he was stuck. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. “Very well.” He eyed the briefcase attached to George’s wrist.
“We can satisfy our part of the bargain, Captain Stemovich. Please be assured.” George had to speak up. Stemovich’s personality and his clashed. They knew it from the minute they saw each other.
Andri responded in an equally abrasive tone. “Believe me, you’ll get what you pay for.”
The obvious dislike between Andri and George tossed Mohsen into a silent fit. He tried to position himself between them physically to prevent the conversation from getting worse. “Let’s be off, gentlemen. We have more important things to do.”
Andri steered them down the catwalk. He offered nothing about where they were going or what they were to do. He took them through a maze of doors. The security guards were paid off because the three men walked into several restricted areas without being questioned. Then they went down some stairs and through an underground tunnel that connected all of the main buildings together. Andri walked briskly, forcing George and Mohsen to remain at a trot behind. They emerged in a small, forgotten hangar in a secluded part of the airfield. Two more men were waiting next to an old twin-engine cargo plane. Andri walked over and stepped aboard the craft. Mohsen followed without hesitation.