Gunfire.
87
Bullets bounced off the steel deck and ripped through several of the large equipment bins on the stern. Others ricocheted, hitting cables and piercing some of the thick rubberized hoses wrapped around giant feeding wheels.
Sergeant Popov was the first out of the water and onto the back of the Pathfinder, immediately drawing fire from two sailors on the upper deck. Working together, one kept firing while the other moved. They pressed in closer to cut the attackers off from both the port and starboard sides of the ship.
Popov rolled with everything he had, miraculously making it behind one of the equipment bins. Moments later, the head of one of his men bobbed up over the edge, throwing a bag up and over. It slid to within a few feet of Popov.
Under more fire, he reached out and pulled the bag closer to him. From there, he ripped it open and removed a Russian PPD-40 machine pistol. Without looking, he fired several rounds over the top of the bin, less in an effort to hit anything than to signal his men in the water.
He waited only a few seconds before raising it again and opening fire, this time holding down the trigger and running through the entire magazine — long enough to provide cover for the next man to make it out of the water and onto the deck.
His man moved into position behind the base of one of the ship’s winches, cornered by M4 fire from the sailors. Popov instantly replaced his magazine and unloaded another barrage.
Popov slid one of the PPDs to his second and lowered his head, peering around the edge of the bin.
No clear line of sight. He moved further, trying to see beneath another winch in front of him. He couldn’t see the sailors, but he could see the legs of two more men running along the upper deck.
“Bridge contact! Contact!”
Captain Emerson ignored the radio and yelled at Harris. “Get every man armed! Send half to the stern and put the others on the main deck! They could be coming up anywhere!”
Harris nodded and took several men from the bridge, leaving only enough behind to run the ship.
“Sir!” yelled the sonar officer. “I still have nothing on that sub!”
Emerson ran forward and looked down through the window again. The blades of the Sea King helicopter were turning.
He pushed a button and picked up another handset. “Lawton. Are you there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need to know where that sub is NOW!”
“Yes, sir.” Neely dropped the phone and ran back down the hall. “Lee!” she burst in, screaming over the gunfire. “Where the hell is she?!”
She leaned forward and yelled into Lee’s microphone. “Alison, can you hear me?! Alison!”
“Yes. I can hear you. What’s happening?”
“We’re under attack. We need to know where that sub is, exactly!”
Deep below, Alison stammered, still holding tightly onto Sally. “I don’t know exactly. I’m not sure what my position is, and it’ll take me five to ten minutes to reach the surface.”
“Dammit!” Neely cried and pounded the table. She stood up, trying to think, then pulled the fat satellite phone from her pocket and dialed again. When she heard the line pick up, she didn’t wait for an answer.
“Jeff! What are you seeing?!”
“Nothing yet. We’re scanning but don’t see anything. If there’s a sub there, we can’t see it at all!”
“How is that possible?!”
“I don’t know.”
Neely Lawton growled and hung up the phone. The gunfire was growing fiercer, and a bullet suddenly ricocheted loudly outside the exterior hatch.
She looked grimly at Lee and then at Borger who was in the doorway. “We’re totally blind.”
Alison. What wrong?
Alison was desperate. “We’re being attacked.” She turned and pointed at the dark outline of the sub. “By that! Our metals cannot see it.”
Sally studied the outline. It bad, Alison.
“Yes, very bad!”
Sally thrashed her tail, pulling Alison around with her. Facing the other direction, she opened her mouth and emitted a powerful call of clicks and whistles. After finishing the long sequence, Sally repeated it again and again, just as loudly.
When she was done, a calm fell over them again, like a blanket of silence. No sound came from either of them, or from Lee and the ship. Nothing at all.
Instead, Alison remained in that same spot, motionless, floating in eerie silence next to Sally.
And when the response finally came, it was not the sound that she heard — it was the sensation she felt. Right through the fabric of her dive suit, and all along her arms and legs. Next her hands sensed it. A buzzing was building from a subtle tingle through her skin to something stronger. Something much stronger. Until it hit her like a wave.
The buzzing became so strong that it was no longer just through her skin, but went deeper into her very organs and bones.
Alison gasped as the feeling grew stronger still. Almost electrifying her. Her eyes began to glaze when she saw figures emerging out of the darkness. First just a few, then more coming behind. Until the water was filled with them.
Dolphins. Nothing but dolphins. All of them using their powerful echolocation together, creating a wall of sound that was simply overwhelming.
A wall that was directed precisely at the Russian submarine.
Neely’s phone rang immediately. She answered hurriedly, pressing it against her ear.
“We’ve got something!” shouted Jeff. “We see it!”
Neely eyes shot open. “You see it?!”
“Holy shit, do we see it! God, Neely, you’ve got to see this!!”
“Captain!”
Still on the bridge, Emerson whirled around to face his sonar officer. “What?”
“I’ve got something!
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” The officer nodded excitedly, watching the lines of signals running down his green monitor. “I’m not sure how, but I’ve got it!”
Emerson looked down through the window again to see the giant helicopter finally lifting off the bow. With its commanding rotors beating the air into submission, the aircraft rose, directly in front of the bridge deck. Like a beast rising from the depths.
“Where?” Emerson commanded. “Where is it?!”
88
Popov heard the thundering of the Sea King’s rotors over the gunfire and cursed. Miraculously, he’d gotten all but one of his team aboard the ship, but a prime objective had been to keep the chopper grounded.
He called to his men and they raised their guns, unleashing a hail of fire at the helicopter. Nevertheless, it rose over the bridge deck, tilting forward. Their PPDs were no match for the chopper’s armor, but the open door still gave them a large enough target.
Three of the American sailors were dead. But more were still coming. Popov and his men were now advancing toward the upper deck. One of the Russian team had taken a shot through his left arm, but continued to surge forward with Popov and the others.
Another barrage of coordinated fire brought down a fourth sailor. The body fell onto the overhead grating and slumped sideways, sending his M4 rattling down onto the level below.
In and out, the Russians moved systematically, with short bursts to cover each man as they moved forward.
On the upper deck, men were running outside, past the lab where Neely stood facing Borger and Lee. They could no longer reach Alison, and the gunfire was continuing to draw nearer.