“I should have known. You got it.”
Jake returned to the table and ordered Henri to slow the submarine and reduce flow noise on its hydrophones. As the mechanic stepped away to obey, the Specter’s commander retraced his steps and crouched beside the technician seated beside his sonar expert.
“See if you can guide our second weapon in passively.”
The youngster nodded.
“Good,” Jake said. “Keep the seeker silent. There’s no need to announce the second torpedo if we can avoid it, and the target’s making plenty of noise for passive homing.”
Having tripped the final spring of his trap, Jake retreated to his chair and waited.
The junior sailor announced the detonation of the second torpedo underneath the fleeing Israeli patrol craft. Although unaccustomed to listening to submunitions breaking from the warhead compartment and attaching to a submarine’s hull, the new crewman claimed he heard most of the twenty-four limpets detach from the slow-kill weapon and find their mark.
The sonar guru confirmed it.
“Ripple explosion,” Remy said. “That’s a successful hit.”
“You’re supposed to be listening for a submarine.”
“There’s nothing out there within detection range.”
Jake trusted his expert.
“Fine. Is the Shaldag slowing yet?”
“Not yet. We didn’t damage the propulsion train.”
“Not surprising. Two dozen small holes don’t always have much effect on surface ships.”
“There it is now,” Remy said. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Propulsion is stopped, and I hear a lot of flooding.”
“The slowing must be a conscious decision to allow the crew to work the shoring against the flooding,” Jake said. “They’ll probably keep the ship afloat, if we let them.”
“Why would you let them?” Henri asked.
“Economics,” Jake said. “Each torpedo costs money. Let’s see how the fight to save the ship goes. In the meantime, prepare tube three for the Shaldag, same parameters as tube two.”
“Will the first weapon hit, now that the vessel has slowed?”
Jake glanced at the tactical chart.
“Yes,” he said. “In two minutes, unless I shut it down.”
He looked to the Israeli officer, who impressed him with his cool acceptance of shooting weapons at his countrymen.
“Still no veto,” the Aman officer said. “You’re still following our defined parameters.”
“Just checking.”
“I can’t think of a more humane way to stop our navy than what you’re doing.”
Two minutes later, the first weapon doubled the holes in the target’s hull. Another two minutes later, Remy reported the patrol craft’s battle for survival.
“The Shaldag’s still afloat. I hear a lot of banging and shoring work. It’s also accelerating now, slowly. I think it means to head for port.”
“Seriously?” Jake asked. “We put forty holes in it.”
“It’s still afloat,” Remy said. “Wait. I hear splashes. I think the crew’s launching life rafts.”
“That’s great news,” Jake said. “But I want to be certain. As long as I’m out here, let’s remove this ship from our future concerns. Shoot tube three.”
The soft whine and pressure change hit his ears as the Specter spat its third torpedo to sink the Shaldag. He sat back in his chair and welcomed the French mechanic by his side.
“Coming to second-guess me on something?”
“I was going to remind you of the economics,” Henri said. “Three torpedoes were extensive for one patrol craft.”
“I think Pierre will understand.”
“Then what of the primary mission of reconnaissance? Antoine heard no sign of an Israeli submarine.”
Jake smirked.
“True enough, but how do you think a deaf ship learned about our first torpedo just in time to run from it, much less the perfect course to run?”
“It could have been good luck. It could simply have been repositioning to challenge the next fisherman.”
“Maybe, but I think Pierre will agree with me. There was a submarine to the north beyond our detection range but close enough to hear our weapon, and I just gathered evidence that the Israelis are dead serious about the intensified blockade of the Gaza.”
“I’ll leave such matters to the tactical experts.”
“You’re selling yourself short,” Jake said. “You’ve picked up enough knowledge over years in combat with me to formulate your own opinion.”
“Perhaps.”
“So, what’s your gut assessment?” Jake asked.
The Frenchman offered a quick nod and cautious smile.
“Mission accomplished.”
CHAPTER 4
Commander Adam Levy ordered the Israeli submarine, Crocodile, to hold its shallow depth. As the deck rocked in the swells, he sought communications with his fleet’s leadership in Haifa.
“Link me with headquarters on a secure channel.”
His senior enlisted veteran mechanical technician acknowledged the order, and Levy heard gentle static as the channel changed.
“You’re linked, sir,” the veteran said.
Levy clicked a handset and spoke into it.
“Squadron, this is Crocodile, over.”
His squadron commodore’s amplified response filled the control room.
“This is squadron. Go ahead, Crocodile, over.”
“Squadron, this is Crocodile, I witnessed the attack on patrol craft Shaldag Three. I’m ready to report and upload a data link.”
“Send me your data link, and I’ll have it reviewed. Give me your verbal report now.”
“An unidentified platform, likely a submarine, launched three torpedoes at Shaldag Three. I detected the first torpedo and came shallow to give Shaldag Three an optimum evasion course, but I couldn’t detect the second or third torpedoes until I heard the detonations.”
“Shaldag Three is sinking, but the crew has time to abandon ship. No casualties have been reported.”
News of his countrymen’s survival left Levy unmoved. Sailors on substandard vessels — which in his judgment meant every surface combatant — were tangential considerations as compared to him winning his battles and accomplishing his missions.
But the vessel’s loss and its visible rescue effort would weaken the blockade, and he expected the Palestinian fishing fleet to exploit the weakness. Judging that the Gaza peasants couldn’t fend for themselves within the permitted fishing zones, he expected them to spread across the water like a virus.
“I’d like to confirm that I stay submerged and can retain my stealth at my discretion without having to assist in the rescue operation.”
“Stay hidden, Crocodile. Shaldag Three’s crew will get all the help it needs, and I’ve got another Shaldag vessel interdicting the blockade runner.”
“How many runners are there?”
“Just the one. A lone actor, very unprofessional. It’s probably a group of young idyllic humanitarians who haven’t given a second thought to the consequences of their actions.”
“Good,” Levy said. “At least there won’t be any weapons entering this forsaken Gaza Strip on this blockade run.”
“They won’t even get through. I’m more interested in what you learned with the attack on Shaldag Three. Can you think of anything else to report about the vessel that attacked it?”
Levy reflected on the observations swirling in his mind.
“The hostile torpedoes weren’t standard issue,” he said. “They had limpet-type payloads, and I heard multiple small warheads clamp to the hull before exploding, roughly twenty per torpedo. This implicates the same mercenary fleet that attacked the Russians and the Greeks.”