Renard blew smoke into the overhead piping and returned the Marlboro to his mouth.
“At least I pray they take care of it, since I shall be with them.”
“When does the Georgia set sail?” Jake asked.
“No later than three days. They need the time to configure the cutting instrument in the SEAL minisub.”
Renard tapped a red dot on the chart four hundred miles north of Bermuda.
“Okay,” Jake said. “That pushes our fuel limit.”
“Pushes, but does not quite exhaust, does it?”
“No, but damned close.”
“You miss nuclear power, do you not, Jake?”
“Yes. No. Not really. What I really miss is dry land. I’m looking forward to nailing this and moving on with my life.”
“Indeed,” Renard said. “Nailing this, as you say, will simply take the patience and skillful submarine operations I’ve come to trust you with. The United States Navy will handle the delicate portions for us.”
“Then why do they still need us?” Jake asked.
“As always,” Renard said, “we are the hedge against a one-for-one exchange. Should we see sign of hostile intent before our operation is complete, we will send our adversaries to the bottom. Should our adversaries, in that event, retaliate successfully, then it is only an inexpensive submarine with mercenaries that is lost.”
“And you want to be involved,” Jake said. “You’ve been pushing Rickets to make sure of it.”
“Almost as intently as you still appear to wish not being involved. I thought you had rejoined our team in both person and spirit.”
Renard jabbed his Marlboro into an ash tray and reached toward his breast pocket for a fresh cigarette. Jake looked away but lifted his gaze.
“No, I’m with you.”
“Good.”
“But I still am concerned that we’re missing concrete evidence of the Leviathan.”
“In good time, my friend,” Renard said. “We will continue to accumulate evidence. And no matter, in the final outcome, the SEAL minisub will mount them, per this scenario.”
Renard tore off the Bermuda chart and revealed colored drawings of five ships. Concentric circles framed the Leviathan at the center with the Zafar ahead of it. The Georgia lay ten miles away, in apparent safety, while a minisub rested on the back of the Leviathan. The Mercer was even with the Leviathan and a mile to its far side.
“What’s that line between the Georgia and minisub?” Jake asked. “Is it like a torpedo wire?”
“Precisely,” Renard said. “For communications and with an electrical power supply as well.”
“They’re going to send power across a torpedo communications wire?”
“It’s a design that’s had some apparent success with the SEAL delivery from converted Ohio-class submarines.”
“So that’s it?” Jake asked. “Looks simple enough except that it’s happening at fourteen knots.”
“I’ve been assured that the SEAL minisub can make sufficient speed with the electrical power from the Georgia. They will succeed even if the Zafar cannot be enticed to slow.”
“Enticed to slow?” Jake asked. “How?”
“A ship will set sail from New York on a reciprocal path of the Zafar. The ship will send out a distress call when the Zafar is close enough and bound by maritime custom to assist. The ship will not call for the Zafar—its call for help will be universal, but the Zafar should volunteer assistance.”
Renard replaced the original chart that showed Bermuda to Halifax. He traced his finger over a series of small arcs that faced major eastern population centers.
“We have until these boundary lines to conclude our business. Should the Zafar cross that line before we do, we will withdraw and let anti-submarine aircraft deliver the killing blow.”
“What’s that arc radius?” Jake asked. “Two hundred nautical miles?”
“Two hundred and fifty,” Renard said. “The Israelis have shared with us the ranges of the Popeye missiles aboard the Leviathan. Two hundred and ten nautical miles. I’ve drawn the two hundred and fifty-mile boundary as a warning barrier. As you can see, our operation will be concluded before approaching even this warning area.”
Two monitors forward, a young mercenary cupped his hands over a sonar headset. He then lowered his hands and twisted knobs at his Subtics station. Antoine Remy crept to his shoulder and listened as the man pointed at his monitor.
“The Zafar is slowing,” Remy said. “Making turns for ten knots.”
“Excellent,” Renard said. “We shall slow as well to conserve battery. To your tracking stations.”
Half an hour later, Jake leaned over a display of the darkness that Renard saw on the Mercer’s periscope.
“Ten knots,” he said. “Tankers never slow unless they have a reason. What the hell?”
“Patience, Jake,” Renard said, his Marlboro dangling from his lips below the periscope optics.
“Remy?” Jake asked, looking over his shoulder.
“Nothing yet,” Remy said.
Jake stared at the monitor again, trying to see the tow line but unable to spy it against the dark sky and the sea’s blackness. Stars and the Zafar’s red, port-side running light filled the screen.
“Fans!” Remy said.
Jake stood and glared at Remy.
“Fans!” Remy said again. “They’re running fans. They’re very quiet, but I hear them, and the system has them on a bearing that places them a quarter mile behind the Zafar.”
“Like a submarine ventilating?” Jake asked.
“Exactly,” Remy said.
“Shit,” Jake said. “They don’t need to snorkel to charge their battery, but they need fresh air. Fans.”
“Right,” Remy said.
“See if you can hear something else, some other piece of machinery they’ll keep running when submerged, now that we know they’re there.”
“Will do, Jake.”
Jake looked up at Renard.
“Well, my friend,” the Frenchman said. “You were correct that we needed to confirm our suspicions. And now they are confirmed. We have the Leviathan.”
CHAPTER 17
Renard had found the two days since confirming the Leviathan’s presence behind the Zafar anticlimactic. He felt like a passenger on a ride and that his will had little imprint left to impart on the outcome.
He was reading the philosophy of Voltaire when Henri ripped open his stateroom door.
“Come quick! The Leviathan opened its outer doors!”
Renard trotted behind Henri to the operations room where Jake stooped over Remy’s shoulder at a Subtics monitor.
“You’re certain?” Renard asked.
“Yes,” Remy said.
“How have you responded?”
“I assigned a weapon to the Leviathan as a counter attack,” Jake said. “Other than that, I did nothing. Opening our own outer torpedo doors could alert them or provoke them.”
“Good response,” Renard said.
Renard felt his heart rate slowing as he watched his protégé retain his sharp mind under stress.
“No sound of flooding a tube, yet, but that would be harder to hear,” Jake said.
“Correct. Assign a weapon to the Zafar as well, just in case this turns against us.”