“Good morning.”
He recognized the voice of the Zafar’s first mate, one of several people aboard the towing ship that spoke Arabic.
“Has anything changed with our status?” Salem asked.
“No, but we are in sight of Gibraltar. It’s a tight passage, and we may see new wind and seas on the other side once in the Atlantic Ocean. We will adjust cable length if needed.”
“I understand. All is the same here. Nothing has changed. Thank you.”
Salem passed through the operations room where Asad stared at a monitor.
“Good morning, Hana.”
“How are you?”
“Well. The ship is well. It’s holding its angle and depth automatically. There’s little for it to adjust to.”
“We figured out how these automatic systems work?”
“We’re starting to. The manuals are easy.”
“Even when you can’t read them?”
Salem nodded at a screen of diagrams and Hebrew characters that appeared to be an electronic manual of the trim and drain system.
“My interpreter will be joining me after his breakfast. I memorize the drawings on my own.”
“I’m glad that you are making use of otherwise idle time. Do you believe the others are doing the same?”
“The naval veterans are. So are the people from your university. It’s the Hamas soldiers that seem reluctant. They have learned what buttons and valves to push for the purposes we demand, but they have no curiosity to explore further.”
“I’ve noticed the same. This concerns me.”
“I haven’t thought about it much.”
Salem sat at the console beside Asad. He examined the room to assure they were alone, and he lowered his voice.
“Have you considered our fate in the event that we succeed in destroying the Bainbridge and then survive?”
“I try to avoid such thoughts. They are distracting. My purpose is the Bainbridge. All else is speculation.”
“Do you trust me to keep you safe?”
“I trust you, Hana, but I am aware of the dangers. I intend to return home someday, God willing, but I am prepared to meet whatever fate I deserve.”
“I believe that most men aboard share your outlook.”
“That’s correct, Hana. We accepted our fates in this long ago in exchange for the opportunity to be part of something this important.”
“But now that we have relaxed from the intensity of taking this ship,” Salem said, “we have many days of transit ahead of us. Men’s idle minds will wander.”
“Perhaps,” Asad said. “What is your concern?”
“I dislike the look in the eyes of the Hamas men. When I see them, I see conflict, and I see it especially in their leader.”
“Hamdan strikes me as insightful and thoughtful for a trained soldier. He may simply be over-thinking his fate.”
“That’s the problem,” Salem said. “The soldiers have nothing to do but to press buttons and twist valves, yet they all seem to have something weighing on their minds.”
Asad frowned and leaned forward.
“This is a curious observation.”
“I considered long ago, when I realized that we needed warriors, that such talent may not come with blind obedience to me or to the vision I follow.”
“Go on.”
“Consider,” Salem said, “that the Hamas soldiers have been ordered to take matters into their own hands in the event that we, a team of veteran sailors and academics, should lack courage at key moments.”
Asad leaned back and waived a dismissing hand.
“They need us. They couldn’t possibly launch weapons from this ship. That’s a feat that will require everything we collectively know, such as knowledge of manuals they have ignored. They have no ability in this area.”
“Perhaps not,” Salem said. “But perhaps they think they could ram the Bainbridge. A submarine’s steel is thicker than the skin of a destroyer. Or perhaps they believe that after they help launch one weapon they can launch another — mimicking our actions without our assistance.”
Yousif’s thick frame entered the operations room.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked.
“No, please join us,” Salem said. “And listen. Intently. I need your thoughts.”
Yousif crouched between the chairs.
“I have been assessing a threat in my mind, and I believe it’s real enough to share with both of you, but no others. I want your assistance in monitoring the Hamas soldiers.”
“This is serious,” Yousif said. “What do you fear?”
“I believe that the Hamas soldiers have conditional orders to scuttle this submarine, killing all of us by hand first if they must, in the event that we succeed in our mission. They may even have other orders to kill us if we take inappropriate actions with this ship at certain milestones.”
“Hana,” Yousif said. “Why?”
“Because I believe their leaders who gave them their parting orders knew too little about operating a submarine and may have considered us expendable at some point.”
Yousif’s brow furrowed and his face became flushed.
“I am prepared to die for a cause, Hana,” he said. “But don’t ask me to throw my life away. You said that we would make use of this ship after the Bainbridge. That we would expend its resources in a new cause against targets of opportunity until our weapons were gone. That we would use the Gulf Stream to assist our journey home. I volunteered to face danger for you. I did not volunteer for suicide.”
“I consider your mind an asset too valuable to waste, Ali,” Salem said. “But if all unfolds as I foresee, there may be no need to flee. I cannot share the details, but I ask you to continue trusting me.”
Yousif exhaled and appeared to relax.
“I respected your wish to keep the operations outside our submarine a secret,” he said. “Knowledge is power but it is also danger. It will be difficult for my analytical mind to exercise the patience, but I have known you for years, and I will trust you.”
“When we are victorious with the Leviathan,” Salem said. “Rest assured that all will become clear.”
Renard swallowed a bite of lobster tail, enjoying the sweet meat and buttery taste. He reached for a glass and swirled its purplish ruby colored Châteauneuf-du-Pape Charvin wine. As he lowered the glass to sniff the aroma of its contents, he glanced at a depth gauge in the Mercer’s wardroom. The ship was descending from its snorkel depth.
“The last meal before a special operation,” he said, “is nearly as special as the operation itself.”
“You always know how to add the right special touches, Pierre,” Remy said from the seat beside Renard. “It’s too bad Jake and Henri can’t join us.”
“They enjoyed an early dinner,” LaFontaine said from his seat opposite Remy. “Someone has to drive the ship. Such is submarine life.”
“From the looks of it,” Renard said. “Jake has downloaded the satellite information we need and has just taken us deep. I expect that we’ll hear from Henri soon.”
Seconds later, heads at the table turned in response to a knock. Henri’s silvery hair slipped through the door, and he had a stern look on his face.
“We have the Zafar’s coordinates and track,” he said. “They are in the shipping lane to New York, following the plan of the ship’s manifest. They are making no attempt to deviate from their planned route.”
“The tow cable?”
“Still taut, per the aerial reconnaissance of ten minutes ago.”
“How far from us?” Renard asked.
“Twenty miles, and moving at fourteen knots. We have just over an hour.”
“Deploy the towed array sonar and bring up all systems,” Renard said. “Have Jake take us to two hundred meters depth and keep us one mile to the south of the Zafar’s track. If you have to err, get us closer to the Zafar as opposed to too far. Our depth will provide us separation so that we avoid collision with their towed cargo.”