“Not yet. I appreciate your vigor, but please wait. All of you. All Israeli naval assets are weapons tight while the senior Aman general states his case to the prime minister.”
“And what about the tanks?” Cahill asked.
“There’s nowhere they can reach beyond your range before these negotiations end,” Renard said.
“I don’t trust the speed of talking politicians,” Cahill said. “The prime minister could be stalling.”
“For what?” Renard asked.
“To rally his air forces? That’s a possibility.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. The senior Air Force general is joining the Aman general to lobby for peace.”
“So he’s finally chosen a side.”
“I believe he chose his side long before our participation,” Renard said. “Our efforts merely prompted him to voice his opinion. If nothing else, our mission portrayed the prime minister in his true light. It doesn’t take a political strategist to see that his push into Syria is personally motivated.”
“If you say so, but I still don’t like waiting.”
“You’ll have your answer in half an hour. I promise.”
Cahill frowned.
“How can you promise?”
“Because if you don’t have your answer by then, you’ll be sending ten rounds into the tank battalion. I see that your little stunt of heading back to help Jake placed you in your launch basket.”
Volkov spoke in his crude English.
“Can I now snorkel?”
“Yes, Dmitry,” Renard said. “I was awaiting the weapons tight confirmation from Aman, which I now have. Go ahead and snorkel.”
“Since I gave you a little extra negotiating leverage by moving within range of the tanks, does this mean you forgive me for violating your order to leave the battle?” Cahill asked.
“No. I’m still docking your pay.”
“How much?”
“I haven’t decided. I’m not accustomed to my commanders disobeying me.”
“How about ten percent, mate?”
“This isn’t a negotiation. Have you forgotten that I’m your employer?”
“No. It just sounded fair.”
Renard flicked his palm backwards.
“Very well, then. Ten percent it is. I actually can’t tell if I should be punishing you or rewarding you. So we’ll leave it at that until I’ve had time to reflect.”
During a silence, Cahill leaned into Dahan’s ear and spoke with a soft voice.
“You seem to be doing well under the bridge dome.”
“There are so many thoughts in my mind that I’m ignoring it,” she said. “I may be getting used to it, too.”
“It’s not natural for a human to be under the oceans, especially with windows as a constant reminder. But you can train your mind to get used to just about anything, I imagine.”
“I don’t know that I can get used to the idea of having to leave you in a matter of days.”
Her words hurt like an inescapable truth. The mission’s pending success would entail her departure.
“We’ll worry about that after this mess is settled.”
“I have news,” Renard said. “The prime minister demands a demonstration.”
“Like he thinks we’re bluffing?” Cahill asked.
“Exactly like that.”
“Did you agree to it?”
“I did. You’ll take two shots, one from each cannon, at a Jeep being towed by a tank at its maximum speed. If you hit the Jeep, the prime minister will have to respect your reach.”
“If you’ve got terminal guidance for me, it should be easy enough,” Cahill said. “But are you sure you want to give in to his demand?”
The Frenchman’s grin reminded Cahill of a mischievous cat.
“Call it a demonstration for future potential clients,” Renard said. “In my line of work, I need to keep such an open mind. Several generals and members of the government will consider the naval battles as statistics over distant waters, but this demonstration will be a sight they’ll remember.”
“So be it. Can you send me target coordinates and launch timing?”
“I’m sending them now.”
“I’ve got them,” Walker said.
“Very well, Liam,” Cahill said. “I’m bringing us to minimum cannon depth.”
He tapped a key that set the Goliath into its routine of pumping water from its trim tanks to the sea. A depth gauge counted the ship’s imperceptible rise while the deck tilted downward to raise the stern-mounted weapons bays above the waves.
“The weapons bays report being clear to raise the cannons,” Walker said.
“Very well,” Cahill said. “Raising the cannons.”
He tapped two icons on his screen, ordering hydraulic fluid to lift the railguns above the waterline.
“Cannons are raised,” Walker said.
“Prepare to shoot one penetrating round from each cannon at the assigned system coordinates.”
Walker touched keys at his console.
“Each cannon is aimed at the assigned system coordinates, ready to fire.”
“Fire.”
The boom from the starboard railgun preceded the port weapon’s supersonic crack.
Cahill tapped keys to submerge his weapons bays.
“Lowering the cannons and returning to snorkel depth,” he said. “And now all we do is wait.”
“I have tracking lock on the target,” Renard said. “I have positive control of your rounds.”
“No jamming?” Cahill asked.
The Frenchman sounded nonchalant.
“They may try jamming.”
“You don’t sound concerned about it,” Cahill said.
“The jamming power levels would be small compared to those of naval ships, and the predictive algorithms that guide your rounds have shown good results against the reduction gears of destroyers, which are similar targets in terms of size and maneuverability.”
“Time will tell. What if we miss?”
“Then you’ll shoot ten splintering rounds and defy them to stop me from hitting with a constellation of buckshot.”
“Sounds good, mate.”
Cahill’s mind drifted, and he found himself groping for a satisfying conversation to have with Dahan before her departure. He wanted to plan future time with her, but needed the battle to end.
Renard’s smug grin conveyed the victory.
“Not quite resounding,” he said. “One round grazed the side of the hood, but the other hit left of center in the engine compartment — adequate to declare a mission kill. That would be one tank disabled per two shots, which is good enough.”
“Good enough for what?” Cahill asked.
Renard sneered.
“To declare our mission accomplished. The prime minister has conceded that our demonstration is a success, and he’ll pull his tanks back.”
Cahill sensed a ruse.
“For how long, though?”
“Days. Weeks. Months. It’s a matter of speculation. But at least we’ve weakened him politically. I pray that his regime crumbles from within.”
Cahill glanced at Dahan, who shrugged.
“It’s possible, but I don’t have a crystal ball.”
He wished she did and that she’d use it on their relationship.
“The Israeli task force will be ordered to disband and return home,” Renard said. “We’ll watch them, and once the entire task force is back within Israeli waters, you’ll pick up Jake.”
“Just Jake?”
“Yes. I don’t trust all our ships geolocated so close to a still-angered prime minister who may forget his declaration of peace if tempted. Dmitry will remain submerged and undetected to protect your loading operation, and then you’ll take Jake west fifty miles. Then you’ll wait for Dmitry and load him.”
Cahill felt his adrenaline subsiding.
“Can you connect me with my colonel?” Dahan asked.