And despite a burst of enthusiasm in reducing the yield of a slow-kill torpedo, Jake showed a continued coarseness towards the transport ship. Per Cahill’s perspective, the American viewed the Goliath as an investment to be forfeited before its hijacking crossed a threshold of risk — a hidden threshold defined in Jake’s head.
As he observed the team on the Specter, he realized how each man adapted to Jake. The commanding officer’s rash gestures, quick words, and minor tantrums seemed engrained in the ship’s communication protocols and even in the staff’s DNA. Cahill wondered if the crew needed the ongoing experience of an animated Jake to function and feel alive.
What he grasped with certainty, though, was their obedience. Other than the rare challenges afforded to Henri, Jake’s orders were final. If the American ordered a weapon launched at the Goliath, his crew would attack with ruthless efficiency.
Worse, Cahill knew his boss kept a similar threshold’s parameters locked within his mind, as did the CIA queen who ruled Renard’s life at inopportune moments.
Multiple secret clocks counted down the Goliath’s doom, and the first to reach zero would leave him with no ship, no fleet, and no future.
He felt helpless, and desperation forced him to act despite his rational judgment. “I am going with them.”
Henri raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“With the swimmers. I don’t care what their plans are. I’m going to help them get the Goliath back.”
“You don’t need to convince me. I have no say in it. But if you can get Jake to agree, I’m sure Pierre would follow.”
“Well, mate. You offered to be a conduit to Jake.”
The mechanic gave a sheepish green. “I guess I did.”
“Can you get him for me?”
“Give me a few minutes.”
The Frenchman lifted a sound-powered phone, flipped its calling destination, and whipped the dialer. He spoke in French, paused as his conversation appeared to shift from one speaker to the next, and then he continued. “Jake says they’re finishing now. He’ll be up here in fifteen minutes.”
Twenty minutes later, Cahill huddled around the central plotting table with Jake, Henri, and the elder legionnaire. Though his boss remained quiet, he knew Renard was listening.
The penciled sketches the Australian had seen earlier in the crew’s mess area had become more complex with timing, tick marks, and hand-written notes.
Thankful for a briefing in English, he listened to the American’s explanation. “The first order of business is using a second helicopter. We’ll use one helicopter to lower the swimmers, and we’ll keep one ready as always to punch holes in the Goliath if it surfaces.”
Cahill disliked the American’s word choice. “You mean punching holes in the port engine room, specifically? Those are the standing orders to the aircrews, I hope. If you meant random holes, that’s something entirely different.”
The American flicked his fingers backwards. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’m just focused on the swimming mission here.”
“Right, mate. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“We’re using two pairs of two swimmers. The first pair will be lowered to a depth of fifty meters, straight in front of the Goliath’s track. The submarines will be marking that track with their periscopes like we did when they laid the nets. So, we know we can get the swimmers where they need to be.” Jake tapped a mechanical pencil in front of the bow of a free-handed profile of the transport ship. “The line holding the first team will be attached to the second team. It’s only one hundred meters long, which is perfect.”
Cahill had inferred from side conversations that Jake had held private conversations with Renard about the swimming plan. It had been set in motion before anyone had uttered a word about it in English, the language he appreciated Jake using as he continued explaining it.
“The Goliath will drive into the line. Once that tension hits the line, then the second pair of swimmers jumps.”
In four dimensions, Cahill envisioned his transport vessel marching through time into a cable holding two dive teams together.
The second pair of assailants would arrive above the cargo bed with the Goliath pulling them askew of its centerline as it angled itself to adjust for single-propeller locomotion. The team would land tethered near the starboard stern, facing eight knots of artificial current to reach their goal. But they’d have gravity helping their effort of swimming and pulling themselves upward, unlike the first team that would fight upward.
Opting to leave the herculean tasks to the trained commandos, Cahill decided which team to join.
Both teams would tangle with four fishing nets, but he trusted himself to find a way to overcome those obstacles. He swallowed back the fear of wedging his ankle in the netting with the Goliath’s water flow pinning him down to drown.
He needed to touch his ship, and he let the American continue.
“The line between the teams will catch on the Goliath’s front crossbeam. The top guys will swim to the starboard hull. They’ll get there and then use the closest crossbeam to crawl to the port side. They’ll probably get to the engine room first.”
The Australian nodded and noticed the three other men watching him for concurrence. “Sounds good, mate. Keep going.”
“The bottom guys will have a tougher time. They’ll be climbing and swimming uphill. Since communications will be sketchy, both teams will run parallel missions to lay their explosives. To avoid fratricide, the top team will place charges on the aft half of the compartment, the top team on the front half. Still with me?”
“Yeah, mate. We’re good.”
“The charges are small enough that they shouldn’t hurt any diver who’s nearby. They’re from our spares we keep for our dolphin friends when they’re our guests. But I’m not taking chances on getting ourselves hurt when they go off.”
Cahill saw a possible flaw. “Why not lay the charges below the compartment?”
Pushing his torso from the table, Jake straightened his back. “I don’t think anyone brought it up. At least nobody suggested it. It’s extra effort and risky work to get down there.”
“But you see why I asked?”
Jake cocked his head and looked at a sketch with an intensity suggesting he ran a mental physics simulation of the port engine room flooding from its underside. “I do, actually. If we attack from above, the Goliath could drive to the surface and save the engine room. But if we attack from below, they’ll flood at least to the waterline. That will take out the propulsion equipment.”
“But now that I’ve brought up the idea, I can’t think how you’d get the divers down there.”
“The guys can tie up to the Goliath. You’ve got a harness track running over the engine room, don’t you?”
Cahill tapped his finger on a penciled circle representing a rear view of the transport vessel. “Yeah, of course. The track goes all the way back to the weapons bay. But I’m thinking it’ll be tough for the guys to get to the ship’s underbelly. The cylindrical shape doesn’t give them any leverage outside the widest part.”
“It might be good enough to place the charges anywhere on the bottom half of the hull. Even at the widest section, which is accessible.”
“Right. Got it. Any penetration that’s below the waterline when surfaced will do the trick.”
Jake checked with the two Frenchman and then stated his decision. “They’ll lay the charges as far down the hull as they can get. Terry, can you help an estimate of freeboard for the Goliath so that we know how far down the side is good enough?”