Her time with Cahill was ending.
If the Israeli Navy stood down while awaiting the prime minister’s response to the blockade run, Renard’s fleet would revert from hired mercenaries to an insurance policy, and then to a memory. And her boss would deploy a helicopter to take her home, leaving her Australian lion in her past.
She dragged her nose across her sleeve while flipping her face to her other cheek. The forward bulkhead filled her view as she recalled the list of the prime minister’s possible reactions to his maritime defeat at Gaza.
He could become a political survivor, giving ground to hold his job and opening talks with those who opposed him. But the more likely scenario was his doubling down on his fierceness and mounting a military offensive somewhere — anywhere — to divert the world’s attention from the defeat of his Gaza Strip blockade.
Theories ranged from him retaking Gaza, pushing into the Sinai, rolling into Lebanon, extending his hold on the Golan Heights deeper into Syria, or even purging the West Bank of Palestinian settlements with block-by-block advances. While she waited for the prime minister to reveal his next steps, she realized the chances of a continued naval intervention grew slim.
Her involvement with Terry Cahill would end, and she’d failed to invite the mercenary hero into her personal life.
As a mist glazed over her eyes, she was unsure if the tear rolling down her cheek signified sadness or fatigue.
The giant ship’s gentle vibrations drew her into calmness, and sleep released her from her self-inflicted mental torment.
CHAPTER 15
The next day, Jake Slate checked the Specter’s location on the chart. Since he’d lingered by the Israeli coast to protect his colleagues’ departures, he’d let Volkov reach Cahill ahead of him.
With confirmation from the Aman team, the icon of the Crocodile had appeared beside a pier in Haifa three hours earlier, assuring safe waters for the two-submarine cargo exercise.
Renard’s low-bandwidth feed placed the Wraith on station with the Goliath seventy nautical miles to the west of Jake’s Specter with the boarding process underway.
“Terry has to do all the work,” he said. “Dmitry’s just along for the ride from here on out.”
“It’s Dmitry’s first time — at least willingly,” Henri said.
Jake chuckled as he recalled Cahill’s ensnaring of Volkov in his crippled Russian submarine six months earlier.
“I wonder if this is bringing back nightmares for Dmitry.”
“If so, he need only consider his paycheck,” Henri said. “Pierre’s generous salaries are effective in helping people cope with personal issues.”
Jake reflected on the accident twelve and a half years earlier on an American submarine after which his commanding officer, attempting to protect his career, had intentionally infected him with HIV. The act had instilled him with rage. The act had enticed Renard to recruit him. The act had transformed him.
“Yeah,” he said. “He has a way with helping us forget stuff.”
“You look tired. I can manage up here if you’d like to rest.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I am,” Henri said. “We’re just driving in a slow straight line. Take six hours, longer if you need.”
“You’d better not be exaggerating about your energy,” Jake said. “I’m willing and able to hibernate.”
“I’ll be fine. Get some sleep.”
Jake crept along a passageway and turned into the scullery for a snack. As he unwrapped a protein bar, he saw a mix of French veterans and youngsters huddled around a dining table.
“You guys plotting a mutiny again?” he asked.
The wiry frame of his engineering officer twisted and exposed a cigarette dangling from the corner of a curled mouth. Jake also noticed him holding his Bible.
“We’re using scripture to teach our young colleagues about the truth,” LaFontaine said.
“Willingly, I trust?”
The toad-head of his sonar ace looked up.
“Of course, willingly,” Remy said. “Bright minds like theirs are hungry to understand their place in the world, just like you. Would you care to join us?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve read all the important parts at least three times by now.”
“It’s a document to be referred to daily in life’s journey.”
“No, thanks. Not now.”
Jake bit off a piece of his snack and swallowed it while walking away. But after one step he felt guilty and stopped.
“Maybe later,” he said. “In fact, I promise to join you for a study session before we get back to port.”
“And I will hold you to it,” Remy said. “For your sake.”
Jake devoured his protein bar within several steps. After reaching his stateroom, he did a quick exercise routine of knee bends, pushups, and flutter kicks before crawling into his rack.
Sleep consumed him, and he slipped out of time and reality.
He awoke with a strange sense of refreshment. The silence surprised him. No alarm, no knocking at his door — just silence.
He read the time on a wall display, blinked, and checked again. Quick math made him panic.
After rushing through an abridged toilet routine, he hurried to the control room where Henri sat in the foldout captain’s chair.
“Welcome back. You were serious about your hibernation.”
“Was I really out for eleven hours?”
“You apparently needed your beauty sleep.”
“Did it work?”
“I can’t tell,” Henri said. “You’re so damned gorgeous that your beauty is beyond my ability to render judgment.”
Jake snorted.
“The way you dress, I should be joking about your looks.”
“It’s my guilty pleasure,” Henri said. “I’ve always enjoyed the finer fashions.”
“Well, move aside, handsome. I look better than you in my chair. Thanks for keeping it warm.”
As the Frenchman stood, Jake looked to the display and discovered the Specter’s position dead in the water, loitering in wait of the Goliath and Wraith.
“Dang. You did a good job getting us here,” Jake said.
“Right on station.”
“You look tired,” Jake said. “Can you keep going?”
“I’ll stay here until Terry has us.”
A half mile separated Jake’s ship from the cargo vessel. Accounting for inaccuracies in the Specter’s inertial guidance system and for Cahill’s deviations from his predicted route, Jake knew the two ships could be far away or on top of each other.
“It shouldn’t be long,” he said.
“It’s quite uneventful for us from now on.”
“If all goes smoothly, we’re passengers in our own submarine from here to Western Europe.”
Since Jake had excused Remy to rest before the Specter became vulnerable during the loading process, his young bilingual understudy taken from the French Navy called out.
“I hear active sonar, very high frequency,” he said. “The frequency correlates with the Goliath’s scanning sonar.”
“That’s our ride,” Jake said.
The French technician seemed eager.
“Should I send an active signal at the Goliath?” he asked.
“No, not yet. Let Terry get a little bit closer.”
“Shall I verify that Antoine is awake?” Henri asked.
“Yeah, and also get the Aman guy. He’ll want to talk with his buddies on the other ships once we have laser lock.”
The Frenchman conducted his personnel search via sound-powered phone while his countryman who ran the sonar team in Remy’s absence reported.