“They’re military personnel. They can be trusted to keep this sealed.”
“The entire Kings Bay naval submarine base and their families will know about this before lunchtime, Mister President. Word will get out that a Trident submarine is missing. That can’t be covered up.”
“Damn it, I know that! I mean that we can spin the ship’s absence to appear accidental and then put a gag on the few who know the truth.”
“Like a reactor accident?” Rankin asked.
“Exactly. We can say that a reactor malfunction drove a volunteer crew to take the ship to sea. Then after we sink the ship we can say it was scuttled to ensure reactor containment. That might work, am I right, Admiral?”
“If we contain the witnesses,” Mesher said. “The Colorado’s duty crew and rescue personnel are being assembled in a waterfront briefing room and will remain isolated under guard. But there were several injured personnel transported to the Naval Air Station, Jacksonville Hospital.”
“That hospital is a military installation. Order the men isolated and guarded,” Ryder said.
Ryder placed his fingers to his lips and contemplated aloud.
“Even after we sink this ship,” he said, “it’s going to haunt us.”
“That could be the point, sir,” McAllistar, the DCI said. “Perhaps this was a move to weaken our image, or to strengthen the image of a particular leader within the Middle East. We risk embarrassment if we sink it.”
“We have only two choices,” Rankin said. “Sink it or not. The only risk in sinking it is that we lose an aging submarine and face a radioactive cleanup operation. The choice is clear.”
“I agree,” Ryder said. “Admiral Mesher, sink the Colorado.”
Ryder took a deep breath. He had made the decision he had to make. Next, he turned his attention to diplomacy and his Secretary of State.
“What did you dig up, Sandra?” he asked.
“I’ve contacted representatives of the major governments who are suspected of supporting Middle East extremist organizations,” she said. “If they know about the Colorado Incident, they’re keeping poker faces.”
“I assume you didn’t tip our hand?”
“Don’t worry, Mister President. I told each man separately that you wanted to meet with him today, using no-fly zones as a dummy topic. My conversations were short, but none of them reacted as if they were hiding anything. I can usually tell.”
“That doesn’t rule out the possibility that a faction within the Middle East is involved without the major nations knowing about it,” Rankin said. “The sooner we let America know that this is an act of Middle Eastern aggression, the sooner we’ll have support for the escalated military action we need.”
“We’ve got to be cautious,” Ryder said. “I see no need to reveal anything until we sink the Colorado and put this behind us.”
Ryder heard a pen scribbling notes behind him. He turned and examined Derrick Banks, his personal aide. Banks wore a short, auburn goatee that complimented his brown freckles.
“I think we should reconsider sinking the Colorado.”
A murmur enveloped the room. Ryder raised a finger.
“Quiet!” he said. “We have time to discuss this before we sink it. Go on, Derrick.”
“The most important facet of this incident is the Colorado’s ultimate destination,” Banks said. “If we sink the ship, we’ll never know who took it.”
“In an operation like this,” Rankin said, “there’ll be a trail of evidence.”
“We don’t know what type of operation this is,” Banks said. “If this were an act of war or terrorism, how do you explain their sparing the entire duty crew and not attacking the nearest major U.S. city? They could have torpedoed Jacksonville’s harbor or melted down their reactor to contaminate hundreds of thousands of people before we even knew the Colorado was missing.”
“So what are they doing?” Ryder asked.
“My guess is that someone took the Colorado to get to its warheads,” Banks said.
“Why?” Ryder asked. “They can’t be detonated.”
“A group with technical backing could salvage and reuse the warheads — or the warheads could be easily converted into radioactive dirty bombs to spread contamination.”
“Good point,” Ryder said. “But why should this change our decision to sink the ship?”
“The hijackers are using the Colorado as a transport vehicle. Assuming we’re dealing with highly trained extremists, we won’t take the hijackers alive. Their bodies will be untraceable, and all trails of evidence will run into dead ends. If we don’t follow the Colorado, we’ll never know who took it.”
Ryder never changed his mind easily. He pondered Banks’ words.
“Admiral Mesher,” he said, “how feasible is the idea of following the Trident to its destination?”
The old admiral’s green eyes sparkled as Ryder gave him the opportunity to recover what he’d lost.
“The best way to keep tabs on one submarine is by placing another submarine behind it,” Mesher said. “I can place a submarine behind the Colorado in five hours.”
“Or we can sink the Colorado with a torpedo from an aircraft before this gets out of hand,” Rankin said. “The best option is to destroy it immediately.”
Ryder studied the pursed lips and furrowed brows of his non-naval military chiefs. Their silent agreement with Rankin’s plan was obvious, but he wasn’t swayed.
“We can always sink the Colorado, but we can’t ‘un-sink’ it,” Ryder said. “Keep the weapon-bearing assets in pursuit of the Colorado, but while we’re waiting for them to get there, let’s also work on a plan to follow it.”
CHAPTER 16
A tempest swirled in John Brody’s mind. An encrypted order had just dashed his hopes of returning home to reconstruct his marriage. Instead, he had to whip the Miami into shape to race battle-ready toward an unknown point in the ocean. His squadron commodore had awakened him with a phone call to confirm that the order came from Admiral Mesher himself.
“Okay, Admiral Mesher. Let’s see what you’ve got me doing out here,” Brody said.
From his personal safe, he pulled a codebook that contained a simple one-for-one character exchange that varied daily. He thumbed through to ‘May 11th’ and placed his message through a second decryption.
The first lines of text revealed that the message was an operational order from the Chief of Naval Operations. The content told him he was tasked to hunt his best friend, Jake Slate.
He climbed the stairs to the control room. His weapons officer stood as Officer of the Deck.
“Captain, the ship is rigged for dive, crossing the dive point. The control party has reviewed the shallow water diving procedure.”
Brody gave permission to submerge. The Miami spewed white foam from its ballast tanks and slipped into the ocean. An experienced crew shifted water about the boat and settled the Miami with methodic control under the surface of the Atlantic.
“Officer of the Deck, shift the reactor to high-speed pumps. Increase ship’s speed to flank. Come to course one four zero,” Brody said.
The weapons officer looked back at him through Coke-bottle glasses.
“Sir, it’s my duty to remind you that our speed and depth combination are in violation of this vessel’s submerged operations safety parameters.”
“Weapons officer, have the Quartermaster annotate in the deck log that I’m authorizing violation of the submerged operations envelope. After that, announce that there is a meeting in the wardroom for all officers. When you hear what this mission is really about, you’ll understand.”