“Thanks, Freud.”
“I believe the most disturbing part is that you no longer trust me to protect you. Even if I could guarantee your safety, you would reject it because you feel a need to branch out on your own.”
“You’re talking to me like I’m a teenager.”
Renard stood and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” Jake asked.
“To set a maximum speed on course for Gibraltar and to schedule a refueling stop.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’m not sure you need to know what follows.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Renard said, “when we reach Gibraltar, I’m setting you free.”
“The battery is at one hundred percent charge,” Henri said.
“Secure snorkeling,” Renard said. “Lower the induction mast and prepare to dive.”
Renard watched Henri flip switches in front of his seat at the ship’s control station and heard the gentle rumbling of the Mercer’s diesel engines subside.
“Ready to dive,” Henri said.
“Make your depth thirty meters,” Renard said.
The deck angled under Renard and settled again.
“Thirty meters,” Henri said.
“That battery charge took us three hours and ten minutes, and we made twelve knots,” Renard said. “We made twenty-two knots during our prior high-speed run, and the battery lasted fifty minutes.”
“Calculating now,” Henri said. “Just over fourteen knots average speed, alternating high-speed runs and snorkeling at those speeds. That’s as fast as this ship goes following that pattern.”
“And the tanker with the Leviathan is averaging what?”
“Fourteen and a quarter knots, based upon the last position,” Henri said.
“I dislike a speed disadvantage.”
“We could risk going faster while snorkeling,” Henri said. “The snorkel mast may avoid damage up to twelve and a half knots.”
Renard watched Henri jot down figures on a scratch pad and press keys on a pocket calculator.
“That would give us just under fourteen and a half knots average,” Henri said.
“No,” Renard said. “I suspect the battery discharge curves yield a better answer. We can likely make eighteen to twenty knots submerged with much more efficiency than a sprint at twenty-two knots. Perhaps enough efficiency to matter. Check the curves please, and see if we can make fifteen knots average speed with twelve knots snorkeling.”
“The figures become more promising as we consider lower submerged speeds. More so than traditional battery discharge curves due to the MESMA system becoming a bigger factor. With our MESMA module providing that extra underwater power source, we can maintain eighteen knots for three and a half hours.”
“If we believe the manufacturer’s specifications.”
“They were accurate for the twenty-two knot sprint.”
“Very well,” Renard said. “We’ll test it. Note the time, and make turns for eighteen knots.”
Renard felt the ship vibrating during its rapid acceleration. The trembling subsided as it passed fifteen knots and crept to its final speed. He passed through the after battery compartment and the after auxiliary machinery room and entered the hull section that contained the air-independent ethanol and liquid oxygen MESMA plant. The hiss of steam filled the section, and Renard felt heat waft over his body as he passed through.
His jumpsuit unzipped and flopped over his waist, Claude LaFontaine exposed a sweaty tee-shirt. He was examining gauges on a control station as a young and well-paid mercenary veteran of the French Navy, also in a tee-shirt, scurried between valves and gauges on the lower deck.
“How is our speed performance?” LaFontaine asked.
“Per the expected specifications thus far,” Renard said. “We’re testing battery endurance at eighteen knots now.”
Renard glanced upward at an ominous high-pressure oxygen tank — a bomb of compressed explosive gas.
“The MESMA system is improved since our last ship?”
“Yes,” LaFontaine said. “This design is less temperamental. It is easier to control, but it will take a lot of my attention to keep it operating if you intend to make repeated high-speed runs.”
“And how will you fare without Jake?”
“Badly, I fear. The hour or two per day I hoped to receive his support will be missed. I will be lucky to sleep two hours a night.”
“Yes,” Renard said. “We will all suffer from his absence. But I must set him free.”
Jake had spent most of the prior two days in his stateroom reading electronic books on his computer. He felt numb and detached from the burgeoning buzz of energy building on the Mercer. Though he was close to all but the newest members of the mercenary crew, they had become distant caricatures to him — even Renard.
The Mercer rocked on the surface as the ship neared Gibraltar.
Renard knocked on his door and opened it.
“We’re approaching the channel, my friend,” Renard said. “If you have not yet seen the Rock of Gibraltar, I recommend that you head topside. It is a magnificent view.”
Jake closed his laptop.
“Thanks,” he said, waiting for Renard to leave.
After avoiding his shipmates’ faces on his climb topside, Jake felt the warm Mediterranean wind against his cheeks. He wore black slacks and a blue dress shirt that had acquired wrinkles while folded under his rack.
Out of earshot, Henri lifted a life vest and pointed. Jake shook his head, deciding that fate’s sense of humor lacked the finesse to drown him en route to his final port call after letting him survive fire, ice, and torpedoes.
He reached into his pocket, withdrew his phone, and placed it against his ear. He heard his older brother’s groggy voice.
“Hello.”
“Sorry, I forgot the time difference again.”
“It’s good to hear your voice. Let me just get out of bed.”
“Another Reiki appointment today?”
“No, business has slowed a bit.”
“Do you need money?”
Jake cringed, realizing he was trying too hard to help someone who didn’t ask for it.
“I appreciate the offer, but it will pick up. Can you tell me where you are?”
“I’m in Southern Europe,” Jake said as he watched the towering rock that reminded him of the Prudential logo.
“Cool,” Nick said. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Big brother’s counsel?”
“Yeah, sure. What the hell. I can’t think of anything better to call it.”
“Sounds windy,” Nick said. “Where are you again?”
Jake slid behind the sail and the wind subsided.
“Gibraltar.”
“Cool. What are you doing there?”
“I have no idea.”
“That doesn’t sound like you’re still involved in whatever you were planning. Did your plans change?”
“Yeah. Kind of. Turns out I wasn’t needed as badly as I thought.”
“That’s odd. It doesn’t feel right.”
“No, it doesn’t. But nothing has for a while. I’m not sure what to do next.”
“Are you asking me?”
“I think so.”
“I don’t see anything clearly. The danger I sensed isn’t as prevalent, but it hasn’t gone away. It’s perhaps lurking in the shadows.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“You’re lonelier than our last talk.”
“What? How could you possibly—”
“It didn’t take a soothsayer,” Nick said. “An idiot could pick it up by your tone.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“What are your options now?”
“The world,” Jake said. “I can go wherever I want.”