George looked at the wheelhouse for a reaction. Sergei pointed at something in the distance, allowing George to find the periscope skimming through the bucking waves. He didn’t wait. He knew something bad was happening, and it was time to get the hell off. He ran across the deck to the port side and scrambled into one of the lifeboats.
Glancing back, he saw Mohsen emerge from the deckhouse and begin running toward him in a panic. He was screaming something that couldn’t be made out. It confirmed George’s fears. He began lowering the lifeboat when the freighter turned hard to starboard. The waves smashed against the old ship and drove her farther into the water. Mohsen fell on the slippery deck and slid halfway across. That’s when the torpedo hit directly in the midsection.
It was the only defensive maneuver Sergei had available. He watched the torpedo rise from the water and head toward his ship. One hundred meters out, he threw the ship into a hard starboard turn. She groaned as the rudder cut the water, and she bent low in the waves. Fortunately, the explosion wasn’t that fantastic since it hit an empty cargo bay. He threw the wheel hard to port to right the ship before it took on too much water. She came about, and the hole left in the side by the torpedo lifted three feet above the waterline. Only the high waves crashed in, and Sergei figured his pumps could handle that. He also knew that since he didn’t go down that Andri would probably send another one after him.
He called for the radio to send out a distress signal. His sonar man replied that the Saratov was coming about to line up for another shot on the starboard side. Sergei ran the wheel to port to reduce the target size. It was a mistake.
The old boat shuddered again and cut deep on the port side as she came around. George had lowered halfway down by the time Mohsen got back to the rail. He had been cut by flying debris during the explosion and had a mild concussion. George glanced up to see him now hanging over the railing, holding on for his life as the cold wind, icy rain, and water grabbed at him, thirsting for his life.
Trying to drop from the freighter while it was in a hard turn at flank speed was dangerous. George was bounced off the side three times before he could release the lifeboat from the ropes. He slammed against it twice more as the freighter made its way past him. Then he watched the ship pull away, churning through the waves, trying to escape the sub and the elements.
If the ship hadn’t been so old and so poorly maintained, Sergei might have had a chance. He cut her harder to port and ignored letting her right as she began to shudder and moan. It was a groan that passed throughout the superstructure. The torpedo had struck one of the ship’s metal ribs and cut it in half. As the freighter leaned harder to port, the fatigued metal began to tear like paper. Welds broke and rivets popped as the speed of the ship and the pounding of the waves tore off the bow of the freighter. She went down in a matter of seconds, her screws still turning at flank speed as the aft section rose from the water. Then the ferocious ocean covered her grave.
George watched it all. For one moment, the ocean subsided to let it sink into him. Then it resumed pounding his lifeboat, waking him back to reality. Struggling, he pulled the canvas across the top and lashed it down to keep the waves out. Then he tied it off thoroughly, locking himself in the darkness. He lay in a pool of freezing water in the bottom of the boat. The swells pounded the small craft, often sending him careening against the sides. He prayed to God that the lifeboat wouldn’t overturn and transform into a floating coffin. He was truly miserable.
Bumper didn’t need to speak the obvious. The explosion from the torpedo was close enough for the crew to hear. They sat in silence as minutes later they heard the old freighter dive to her grave. Everyone was at a loss for words, and a silence came over the ship. Then the sonar op turned to Jim. He had a look of terror on his face. “Sir, the sub is headed right over the top of us.”
“Holy shit!” Jim was panicked but kept it under his breath. The War Eagle was in no position to escape a fight. “Linc! Shut everything down now! Quiet that fucking reactor! No one talks!”
Lincoln relayed the orders, and the War Eagle played dead. All the electronics were turned off, and the control rods were pulled out of the core. The crew sat in the darkness and listened to the Saratov pass. “Fuck, this is tight,” he whispered to himself.
“Captain. Contact bearing one-one-five. One hundred meters. Target is lying on the bottom.” The crew of the Saratov also was in silence, and this was the first thing said to wake everyone from their trances.
Andri plotted the position on the glass as they cruised over the War Eagle. “A ship isn’t supposed to be here.” He pulled a map from a drawer and confirmed what he thought. The demise of the freighter was already a distant memory.
“How do you know, Captain?” asked Sasha. “They have dumped many submarines out here.”
“Because I’m the one who originally came up with the plan for where they were supposed to put them. Whatever this one is, it’s in the wrong place.”
Sasha smirked. “Maybe it’s not even one of ours.”
That thought was alarming to Andri. He knew he had been careful throughout this whole scheme. He knew that he had taken every precaution to protect himself, right up to sinking the freighter. No one could even guess where he had been or gone. He had money; he had his sub; and he had his crew. They became a part of him when they fired on the freighter. They were all solidified in the plan, whether they liked it or not. Too much was at risk for some intangible to step up and prevent what he needed to accomplish. “Ahead two-thirds. Helm. Come about to course two-zero-five. Ready tube number one.”
“Aye, Captain.” Again the Saratov responded with grace as she went into her turn.
“Here she comes, Cap.” Bump was the only one to speak, yet it was written in everyone’s eyes. Even Josh’s one good eye widened as he contemplated their fate.
Jim quickly returned to the bridge. “Linc, this is an order. No one is to make a sound. I don’t care if they get hit by the fucking torpedo itself. No one makes a sound. Then move them all to the starboard side of the ship.”
Lincoln and a chief ran off to relay the order themselves. Jim knew that they were sitting ducks. There was no time to raise and turn for a fight. The best he could do was sit and take the punishment.
Bump stuck his head in the CIC. “Tube flooded, Cap.” There came a quick whistle from behind him, which drew his attention for an instance. Then a faint ping rang throughout the ship. “Fish is in the water. Torpedo acquiring target,” said Bump solemnly. The crew began to sweat.
The torpedo searched for its victim. It wasn’t a very complicated piece of equipment by today’s standards. In its nose was a small, active sonar device. It looked for the first metallic object in front of it and locked on. The fins on the back made slight adjustments in the weapon’s angle and depth as it raced to its destination and then detonated on impact. Finding the War Eagle was child’s play. Where the War Eagle was sitting was another matter.
The War Eagle was positioned in a slight depression on the ocean floor. On the port side, less than half the sub was exposed because it sat beneath a small ocean shelf. On top of the shelf, rock formations breached the ocean floor. The torpedo had locked on between two of these rock formations and was headed at a steep angle toward it — too steep.