CHAPTER 21
Cahill roared.
“Holy Jesus! Dmitry’s a bloody man-god!”
“How do you know it’s him?” Dahan asked.
Cahill lifted his chin towards the console’s microphone.
“How do I know it’s him, sonar supervisor?”
Loudspeakers rendered the response.
“Jake didn’t shoot it, and we’re the only fleet on the planet that shoots limpet torpedoes.”
“Are we close enough that we would’ve heard Jake if he’d shot?” Cahill asked.
“Yes, we are. Ten miles and listening on his bearing.”
“There you have it, major. It was Dmitry.”
“But you said he was too far away to intervene,” she said.
“Only per the laws of prudent warfare,” Cahill said. “But not per the laws of physics. I don’t know how many risks he took or how many corvettes or sonobuoys he ran by, but he just raced from his attack on the Leviathan straight towards Jake — of his own volition, mind you.”
Dahan frowned and pointed at icons.
“I see,” she said. “Right here it looks like he actually hid in the wake of a corvette for ten miles.”
“No shit. That bloody bastard. He’s a man-god.”
“I don’t mean to piss on your parade, Terry, but there’s work to be done,” Walker said. “Dmitry put the Crocodile on the surface, but it still has a weapon heading for Jake.”
“You’re right, mate. We need to come shallow and communicate with Pierre.”
“I’ll take us up,” Walker said.
“Please. I don’t want to do it meself.”
Dahan and Walker shot him ugly glances.
“Not like I’m a coward. I mean I’m afraid what Pierre’s going to do when he realizes I turned back to help Jake against his orders.”
“So, you are a coward,” Dahan said. “Terrified of a French senior citizen.”
He met her stare, but she broke, smiled, and looked away.
“That’s okay,” Walker said. “You’re not alone. Dmitry may not have disobeyed direct orders, but he sure as hell acted against any intent Pierre could’ve had for the Wraith.”
The Goliath rocked in the shallows.
“Raise the radio mast,” Cahill said.
“Raising the radio mast,” Walker said.
Videos came alive on two monitors as Volkov’s translator and Renard were exchanging rapid sentences.
“Understood,” Renard said. “I’ll send word immediately to the squadron command at Haifa.”
“Dmitry awaits your order or, God forbid, the Crocodile’s weapon hitting Jake, to launch his heavyweight weapon.”
“I’ve ordered Terry to come shallow.”
“I’m shallow,” Cahill said. “I’m here.”
“Good,” Renard said. “I want Dmitry to minimize his exposure since he’s our final trump card. But you can take the risk of revealing your position by transmitting with high-frequency voice. I want your Aman officer to address the task force on an unencrypted line.”
Dahan crowded Cahill’s shoulder, and he welcomed the intrusion, wanting her warmth close to him.
“I can’t reveal Aman’s presence on your ships.”
“You don’t have to state your identity, major,” Renard said. “You can claim to be a citizen activist if asked, but I assure you your navy has figured it out, or at the very least suspects your organization’s involvement.”
“If I agree, what would you have me do? Order the shutting down of the torpedo headed for Jake?”
“Precisely. Use the threat of the Wraith as leverage.”
Cahill reviewed the geometry.
“It’s a double threat,” he said. “I’m in range of a credible torpedo shot now, too.”
Renard’s eyes aimed off the monitor, and his face flushed.
“I see you indeed are. Apparently, my orders have devolved into mere suggestions for my commanders.”
“I sincerely apologize, Pierre. But you know I couldn’t just turn me back on Jake.”
“Have you no faith in my negotiating skills? I can talk us out of any surrender situation.”
“Sorry, mate. Instincts.”
“To be discussed later. We have more pressing matters.”
Showing her compact strength, she nudged Cahill aside.
“We’re wasting Jake’s time,” she said. “I’ll do it. Give me a microphone.”
Walker extended a receiver. She grabbed it and started talking in her native language. While she spoke, the executive officer stepped around her and leaned into Cahill.
“We might need to start shooting to get the point across.”
“Shooting what?” Cahill asked.
“The Crocodile. With the cannons. It’s almost within phased array radar range if not already, and we could cripple its propulsion before anyone could place a Harpoon on us.”
“I sure hope that’s unnecessary.”
An angry man spat Hebrew over the loudspeaker.
“He didn’t sound cooperative,” Cahill said.
“Actually, he was agreeing,” Dahan said. “That was the task force commander. He understands the Crocodile’s predicament.”
“So he’ll have Jake spared?”
“He’s given the order. He’s awaiting confirmation from the Crocodile.”
“It could be a lie,” Cahill said.
“It could be,” she said. “But you have more than one way to call his bluff.”
“Right. I’ve got four torpedoes left. Liam, assign tube three to the Crocodile.”
“With pleasure… Tube three is assigned to the Crocodile.”
“No confirmation yet,” Dahan said.
Fear and frustration rose within Cahill.
“No confirmation, no compassion,” he said. “Send that message as close to a literal translation as you can.”
Her transmitted translation begat silence. Cahill’s anger surged, and he growled at Dahan.
“Make this message very clear,” he said. “If Jake dies, the Crocodile gets cut in half. Then, I’ll see that Dmitry and I sink every bloody ship in this task force, and then after that, we’ll go after the tanks. Make sure these mongrels understand me.”
Her eyes wide, Dahan nodded and redoubled her zeal in the conversation. After she spurted words that sounded like venom, the task force commander’s response arrived.
“The Crocodile’s weapon is shut down,” she said.
“Sonar supervisor?” Cahill asked.
Loudspeakers carried the response.
“I heard it shut down personally, Terry. It’s true.”
“Sorry, major,” Cahill said. “I wanted to be sure, but I believe I cut you off.”
“The task force commander reminds you, however, that he can still order the Crocodile to simply launch another weapon at the Specter, which presents an immobile and unmissable target.”
“Does he think we’re in a stalemate?” Cahill asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Would you like me to ask him?”
The boss interjected.
“No need,” Renard said. “You’ve done your duty admirably, major, shortcutting the message to spare Jake, but the real negotiations are happening at higher paygrades as we speak.”
“Dmitry reminds you that he needs to snorkel,” the translator said. “He’s critically low on battery charge.”
“Wait,” Renard said. “Have him run his hotel loads on the MESMA unit for just a bit longer.”
Cahill considered taking a risk to help his team.
“Do you want me to raise me cannons and start shooting engine rooms?” he asked. “Or perhaps a demonstration of me reach against the tanks?”