The explosion happened forty feet from the side of the War Eagle. The attitude of the torpedo had driven the weapon into the bedrock on its quest to strike the sub dead center. Still, the great blast shook the ship as debris was driven against its hull. But none of it tore through.
Inside, in the dark, the crew hung on for life. It was the ultimate test of discipline. As the War Eagle shifted, absorbing the shock wave, not one man uttered a sound. Several urinated in their pants, but that was acceptable.
Jim strained his ears for some sound of a compartment breach. No reports came in, and no one panicked. His ship had taken a hit and survived. Somehow. He wasn’t willing to bet on it twice. The War Eagle settled, and silence crept over them again. “Slowly flood tube three,” he whispered.
The weapons chief heard the order but wasn’t sure it was the captain who gave it in the darkness. “No weapons are loaded, sir. We’d be flooding an empty tube.”
“I know, Chief. Just flood it.”
“Aye, Cap,” he responded.
“Tubes being flooded… no, one tube being flooded, Captain,” relayed Andri’s sonar operator.
“Just one?”
“Aye, sir. Only one. No bow caps opening. I don’t even think it’s loaded.”
It was obvious that something had gone wrong with their torpedo. A strike like that should have produced the sound of a whole compartment breech. That was bothersome. But to Andri, the important sound he was looking for was the sound of men and machines trying to raise the ship from the bottom. “There is nothing else?”
“No, sir. All is quiet.”
There appeared to be nobody aboard the ship. The complete silence confirmed it. Puzzling was that the torpedo could only jar a tube loose enough to flood. Should I fire another? Or would that be a waste? Andri figured he was now looking for peace of mind. He couldn’t waste another torpedo on that. His proof was already before him. There was no one aboard. “Make course two-one-zero. Let’s leave this place,” he ordered. “Make depth sixty meters.”
Bumper came back to the CIC and fumbled to find Jim in the darkness. “She’s turned, Cap. She turned back and took off at two-thirds speed.”
A collective sigh of relief blew throughout the ship. They wanted to celebrate but knew that would give them away. “Linc?” called Jim.
“Here, Captain,” he responded as he approached, stumbling in the darkness.
“Damage?”
“None so far. All departments weathered it well. Of course I don’t know what kind of shape the outer hull is in, but no leaks here.”
“Good. Everyone is to rest for the next two hours. After that, we can lift off and inspect the damage. Have Bumper track that fucker as long as he can. Then see if Captain Brand can keep on his tail. I owe that bastard one right in the nuts.”
Lincoln smiled. “Certainly,” he said.
“Roust me from my cabin when it’s time. I’ve got one hell of a message to send.”
The storm had blown over the Toledo hours ago. The violence of it had made even the most weathered of navy men feel queasy. Booker’s crew was finally recovering and getting back into the operation of launching helicopters when a message from the radio room was brought to his attention.
“Sir,” said a sheepish ensign who was the radio op on duty.
“What is it, ensign?”
“Well, sir. I intercepted a real funny transmission originating from somewhere east of us. It doesn’t make any sense.” He extended a piece of paper to Book. It read:
To my Japanese friend. Our drunken lady got off the floor loaded and walked out the door going the wrong way. I am unable to follow her at the moment. Thought you should know.
“Was it coded?”
“Yes, sir. Low frequency and compressed, then scrambled. An unusual combination, even for the navy.”
“Our navy or the Russian Navy?”
“I have to think it was meant for us, sir. It became unscrambled once I figured out the order of packaging in the message. I don’t believe the Russians could have even gotten past that part.” The ensign was confused. His operator’s school never had any messages that remotely looked like the one he intercepted, and he wasn’t quite sure what the procedure was for something like it. “It was specifically aimed for one receiver and no one else.”
“The crew is going to hate you.” Book liked to joke when something uncomfortable hit him.
“Why’s that, sir?”
“We’re going to stay here another week because of this message.”
Guilt set upon the young ensign. “Yes, sir.”
“Good job, though, son.” Booker knew that stateside Sukudo was reading the exact same thing. All hell was going to be unleashed. There was nothing more menacing than a drunken woman.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Caution or Hesitation
The first sign that shit had hit the fan was when the marine MPs pulled up in their jeep. Dan had returned to the Kitchen every day to eat lunch. The food seemed addicting, and he found a strange solace in the crowded diner. Like everybody, he sat eating, discussing conflicts with himself.
The marines made a beeline for him. Dan reached into his pocket and threw payment on the counter before they drew near. Everyone else stared at the event.
“Dan Archer?”
“Nothing personal, guys, but you’re the last people I wanted to see.”
“Mr. Archer. Would you please come with us? You are needed.” The marines stood rock steady and took a protective pose to make sure nothing could happen to him.
Things must be worse than I imagined, he thought. “Okay, guys. Let’s go.”
The marines escorted him from the diner, sat him in their jeep, and then sped off.
Anthony DeCurtis had never in his life received a berating like he was now catching from the president of the United States. What had made it worse was that some rear admiral had brought this to the president rather than the CIA. He had clearly made the wrong choice when he went with Levi’s recommendation. On top of everything else, Sukudo, the rear admiral, was sitting in the Oval Office watching, while Anthony got verbally spanked.
“What the fuck was going through your head, Tony?” The president rarely swore, and he was sufficiently pissed to warrant many expletives. “You knew that there was a plot to steal a nuclear sub, yet you ignored it?”
“Sir. We concluded that it was all to be a hoax.”
“Some fucking hoax. Not only does this Stemovich son of a bitch have the sub; he also has nuclear weapons! How the fuck can you ignore that?”
“We didn’t know about the nukes, sir.”
Sukudo sat in the corner. Though the situation was extremely serious, he loved watching this CIA fuck get a new asshole torn. Then the door opened, and Dan entered.
“Hello, Mr. President.” Dan figured that would be the correct thing to say. He saw Sukudo, and they shook hands.
The president stood and offered him a chair next to Anthony. “You’re the one who was on top of this thing from the beginning.”
“Well, sir, someone is going to have to enlighten me on what has transpired. I’ve been out of touch.”
Sukudo interrupted. “Stemovich pulled it off, Dan. He picked his sub off the floor and slipped away. Fully armed.”
Dan knew that was going to be the answer, but his stomach knotted after hearing the conformation. “Shit. What about the War Eagle?”
“She’s incapacitated for the moment. That’s my best guess.”