“Make turns for sixteen knots,” he said.
When his bow paralleled that of his escort, he slowed to fourteen knots, keeping pace with the giant vessel.
Droplets began dancing on the deck plates, and he lifted night vision optics to his face. Ahead, a wall of darkness marked the rainstorm he sought.
As he returned inside to eavesdrop upon the frigate’s calls to the trawler, the threat of a warning shot concerned him. He realized that a shot across his escort’s bow could become a shot landing on his.
Fifteen minutes passed, and the threats became grave. Then both lookouts reported that a gun round had exploded a half mile in front of him. He grabbed the radio.
“Maintain course and speed,” he said.
“I will,” the trawler captain said. “The frigate will not stop firing, though, until I turn back.”
“We’re almost in the storm,” Kye said. “In fact, radar return for the frigate is likely already murky. That’s why it’s becoming impatient and threatening you with its cannon.”
The lookouts reported that another round had landed closer to the bow. But they also brought good news that rain covered the ship. Kye pulled his parka hood over his head and darted to the starboard wing.
Visibility had worsened, and the storm appeared to half-swallow the trawler. A boom got his attention, and he turned to see the frigate’s latest round shooting a stream of liquid into the air. The cascade crested, dipped, and then landed on his bow.
The next warning would be a hit, and he considered the facade complete. The rainstorm would have to protect him.
He entered the darkened bridge and grabbed the radio.
“It’s time to concede,” he said. “This is far enough.”
“Understood,” the trawler captain said.
Kye listened as the trawler captain responded to the frigate and identified himself as a North Korean fishing vessel. After an angry exchange, the fishing captain blamed his first mate for a clerical error in charting his ship’s position, apologized for the mistake, and offered to reverse course.
By the time the trawler veered away, Kye had positioned Taechong Twelve within the storm’s protection. With the frigate’s interest focused on the contrite trawler, he sighed and felt his blood pressure fall.
Exhausted, he hoped that his risk would pay off by bringing him the enemy submarine, his nation’s captive admiral, and the strange, meddling transport ship.
CHAPTER 16
As the Specter crawled at three knots, Jake stood over the shoulder of a young Frenchman who sat beside Antoine Remy.
“I’ve seen it happen before, but only with the best of the best,” he said. “Can Julien really handle both drones?”
“No need to take my word for it,” Remy said. “Ask him yourself.”
“Well?” Jake asked.
“Yes, I can,” Julien said. “They behave just like they did in the trainer, and I practiced handling two drones all the time.”
“The trainer?” Jake asked. “How realistic is it?”
Remy turned his toad-head and replied.
“I verified its realism. I was the consultant to the software team that Pierre employed to create it.”
“Okay, then. Good enough for me. I imagine I should stop doubting that warfare has gone halfway to video gaming.”
“The drones have traveled ten miles each on courses of forty-five degrees relative to port and starboard,” Julien said. “There’s a ten-mile spread between them. We’ve made an equilateral triangle with our drones.”
“Very well,” Jake said.
He looked over the young man’s shoulder and saw the drones’ inverted semicircular icons.
“Prepare for active search, semicircular pattern starting at zero-nine-zero relative and ending at two-seven-zero relative, fifteen-degree search increments. Middle frequency, half power.”
The sailor tapped his screen.
“I’m ready,” he said.
“Bring the drones to all stop.”
“Done,” Julien said.
“Henri,” Jake said. “Bring us to all stop.”
“We’re at all stop, Jake.”
“Transmit active, both drones.”
Lines of acoustic energy walked up two halves of a split monitor. Then second traces grew fifteen degrees left of each original swath, followed by the third traces displaced another fifteen degrees. When the twelfth and final line extended from each drone, Jake saw no returns.
“Okay,” he said. “The water’s empty a good six miles in front of each drone. We’ll reposition ourselves five miles forward from here. Julien, bring the drones to eight knots.”
“Drones are accelerating to eight knots.”
“Henri,” Jake said. “All ahead two-thirds, make turns for eight knots.”
“Making turns for eight knots,” Henri said.
“Join me by the navigation table,” Jake said.
He pressed a palm into the table and pointed as the Frenchman approached.
“Best estimate of the Goliath is here,” he said. “I had Terry drop behind and to the side of us so that we’d have good quality data on him, instead of having him straight in our baffles.”
“It’s a good estimate,” Henri said. “Antoine can hear him just fine. His ship isn’t built for sound quieting, and I fear for him.”
“That’s why we’re here for protection,” Jake said. “And it’s time to start protecting.”
“You’ve already committed to an active search from the drones.”
“I mean to boost my active search to include the Specter’s bow sonar. There’s no time to be cautious. If I screw around and take my time, Terry’s going to drive up my ass, and I won’t be able to protect him. This is going to be an aggressive search with everything we’ve got.”
“You’re going to keep our active search secure, though, are you not? No need to blare out an announcement of our location.”
“Of course, I’ll use secure active, starting with the shortest duration pings and using longer pings only if I have to. With the micro-pings, the old technology on the bad guys’ ships won’t be able to tell us apart from clicking shrimp if they’re lucky enough to hear us at all.”
Henri’s voice assumed the patriarchal tone that warned Jake that he might be behaving like an errant child.
“There’s a fine line between arrogance and confidence. Guard your location on that line.”
“Trust me,” Jake said.
“I always have — except when you’re dead wrong and about to kill us.”
“Am I dead wrong now?”
“No,” Henri said. “You’re fine at the moment. But I’ll be watching you.”
“I consider that business as usual.”
Half an hour later, Jake stood beside Remy.
“So… nothing?”
“I haven’t heard a thing for five miles,” Remy said.
“Julien,” Jake said, “bring the drones to all stop. Henri, bring the ship to all stop.”
After the triad of the Specter and its drones drifted to motionlessness, Jake looked to Remy.
“Still nothing? Even when we’re at dead stop?”
The toad-head shook.
“They’re quiet, if they’re out there at all,” Remy said.
“They’re out there. They had to be watching us ride in on the Goliath. They know we’re coming. They’re just being super quiet and waiting for us to pass by them fast enough to be heard.”
“Regardless. I can’t hear them, which means they’re making no noise.”
“So be it,” Jake said. “More active searching it is. Line up the ship’s sonar for secure active, highest frequency, shortest pulse length. Half power. One hundred and eighty degrees.”