“Let’s do it,” Cahill said.
The Frenchman’s eyes shifted, and Cahill could tell he was looking at the American for a reaction.
“I must have a death wish,” Jake said. “But I’d rather be taking questionable action with this team than skulking home to the beach alone. I don’t think it’ll make anything better, but I’ll do it.”
Renard seemed calmer.
“I appreciate your candor and your placing of the team ahead of your personal opinions,” he said.
“Call it an exercise in trying to be less selfish,” Jake said. “But for the record, I’m doing this despite my formal protest.”
“I keep no record,” Renard said. “But if you wish to file a grievance, I’ll forward it to one of Dmitry’s dolphins who I’m sure would be happy to address it.”
“Bite me.”
Renard frowned.
“I dislike your use of that idiom.”
“Really?” Jake asked. “Bite me.”
“I will not,” Renard said. “But we are settled then, and this agreement begets a dangerous mission. The known risks are weighty, and when I consider the unknowns and the pressure of time, I grow concerned. Ergo, I would like to gather the most current detail from Aman.”
“Can you connect me with my colonel via our secure network?” Dahan asked.
“Of course, major,” Renard said. “I’ll have my colleagues here in Toulon set up the link.”
A swell lifted the transport ship’s deck and then dropped it. Half a minute later, a middle-aged man with peppery hair wearing a green military top appeared on the screen. Israeli directness prevailed as the man skipped any pretense of pleasantries and began an earnest conversation with Dahan in Hebrew.
When she’d digested her fill, she looked to Cahill and switched to English.
“The Crocodile and the Leviathan will both deploy within six hours,” she said. “The Leviathan was repaired with welded patches to the hull and with spare parts from the Splendor. It’s limited in depth due to the emergency welding, but it’s being declared battle ready.”
“That’s interesting,” Cahill said. “But it doesn’t get us closer to an answer on our next step.”
As she looked at him, she seemed at ease, as if the barriers he’d broken with her offered her protection against the fear of the blackened dome.
“It gets more interesting,” she said. “The prime minister has Israeli troops on merchant vessels with shoulder-launched weapons. He’s also offered bounties for civilians who spot and report a submarine.”
“That’s bad news for us if we head back,” Cahill said. “I can’t think of a tactic to defend against soldiers with short-range weapons on ships too small to see and too silent to be heard.”
She inhaled a deep breath and exhaled through her nose.
“I also have confirmation that the Israeli Navy did intercept a dolphin call and will rebroadcast it from drones and sonobuoys to confuse your dolphins.”
“Dmitry’s already dealt with that, but it’s good to know he’ll see it again.”
“And you may see Seagulls again. The prime minister had the manufacturer dig into its prototype inventory. There’ll be at least one pair per corvette again.”
“These mongrels have no quit in them.”
“But this is the last news we’ll get from the navy. They suspect the rift within our military.”
“It was only a matter of time,” Cahill said.
“So they’re minimizing their communications and are using new encryption schemes,” she said. “All of Aman is now excluded from our legitimate updates, and we won’t be stealing anymore encrypted tactical messages.”
“At least you learned important facts before being shut out,” Cahill said. “I’m curious, though. Why all this maritime effort?”
“To stop us. To stop you, specifically.”
“Stop me from stopping the tanks?” Cahill asked. “We haven’t even decided if we’re going back.”
“But the prime minister has,” she said. “Apparently, your reputation proves that you will.”
Renard’s face reappeared in the monitor.
“That settles it then,” he said. “If the prime minister already knows we’re coming, we mustn’t disappoint—”
The deck bounced, and the Frenchman’s face froze in an unflattering silent, contorted mid-speech image.
“Pierre?” Cahill asked.
“Dang,” Jake said. “That last swell swallowed my radio mast. Looks like you owe me a hundred Euro.”
“No worries, mate,” Cahill said. “We just picked up orders to earn ourselves a bigger bonus. We’re hunting tanks.”
Knowing his male comrades would believe his voiced courage, he pasted a grin on his face. But as he looked to the woman beside him expecting to feel desire, he instead felt the coldness of fear reflected in her caring eyes.
He could lie to his colleagues, and he could lie to himself. But she saw through his charade and exposed the secret lingering in his subconscious mind.
A resilient, augmented, and angered maritime force waited for him to expose himself while attacking the tanks, and despite two brilliant submarine commanders’ protection, the Goliath would face its worst danger yet.
For a moment of his recurring nightmare, he was standing alone in a random compartment of his ship as the hull burst and the seas swallowed him.
Ariella Dahan’s features bristled with concern as she mirrored his emotions, and her gaze ensnared him in the truth.
Cahill was afraid.
CHAPTER 17
Volkov stood in the Wraith’s tactical control room, incredulous as the time lag with his translator tested his patience.
“Are you sure Jake’s tried everything?”
“Yes,” the translator said. “Well, no. I’m not sure, but Jake says he has. I can only be the messenger.”
Volkov gritted his teeth.
“How long until I can speak for myself?”
“With my tutoring, the fastest would be eighteen months. But with the pace Pierre’s placing on this fleet, you’ll probably have three missions within that timeframe and be lucky to move at one quarter that speed.”
“Ask again.”
“I’ve asked twice already. Terry will surface and shoot holes in our hull if I ask again.”
“I mean verify everything from beginning to end, including the alignment of the submarines if we actually try this.”
The translator sighed and turned to the sour faces in the monitor. After catching a few words of English and reading body language, Volkov resigned himself to the task.
“I assume it’s verified?” he asked.
“Yes,” the translator said. “One of Jake’s drones has a battery cell leak, and there’s nothing he can do to fix it. Since you have three drones left compared to his one, he wants one of yours.”
“And this is to be done underwater?”
The translator frowned.
“You would prefer to hand-carry the drone from your torpedo room to Jake’s?”
“Don’t be silly,” Volkov said. “That would be ludicrous without cranes. It’s just that I… well, I don’t want to do this underwater either.”
“Then may I conclude you don’t want to do this at all?”
Volkov moaned.
“Let’s get it over with,” he said. “Are they ready?”
“Yes. The Goliath’s rover will give you visual support, and Jake has his mirrored tube empty to receive.”
“I suppose I should be grateful it’s just a drone. Given the bravado of the American and his Australian friend, I wouldn’t put it beyond them to try this with a heavyweight torpedo.”