“All the ships, including the Goliath, if I can hail it. Excuse me.” The Frenchman stood, turned his back, and walked away with his shoulders hunched over his phone.
To allay suspicion by the table’s onlookers, Jake returned his attention to his steak and took several bites. Though the taste was savory, his thoughts remained on his boss.
Moments later, the Frenchman returned and addressed his fleet’s leadership with a stern but calm voice. “Gentlemen, the security teams aboard the submarines have lost radio contact with the Goliath. I’m assuming the worst. I fear the Goliath has been compromised.”
The Australian commander sounded mortified. “That’s me ship. How the bloody hell did it become compromised?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m afraid this is what it feels like.”
The Frenchman pursed his lips and looked downward.
Cahill shook his head. “Like what feels like?”
“Being the victim. I believe we’re under attack.”
Jake returned the team’s focus to the task. “Are the submarines okay?”
“For the moment, but they need to get underway.”
After running the security staffing through his mind, Jake questioned the possibility. “With just six-man commando teams?”
The Frenchman remained confident in his staff’s reaction. “They know enough to drive away on the surface. You know the contingency plans. I’ve briefed you on this. Switch your mind into crisis mode, man, and keep your wits about you. All of you.”
Cahill gravitated towards his ship. “What’s going on with the Goliath?”
Raising his voice, the Frenchman revealed the first blemish in his composure. “Damn it, man, it just happened! I’ve told you all I know.”
“I don’t mean to be an arse, but me ship is at risk, and we need to act.”
“We will. I called our Omani contact. He’s making assets available to us.”
The Australian remained agitated. “What assets? Nothing can outrun me ship.”
Renard showed coolness under stress. “Helicopters can.”
“Right. Sorry. I was losing me head.”
“A helicopter will land outside to pick up our initial response team. It can take only ten men.”
“You mean us? None of us knows how to properly storm me ship.”
“You’re going to the Goliath. You’re going to the submarines. Four men to each submarine plus you and Liam split between each crew to serve as onboard advisers.”
Acceptance seemed to calm the Australian. “Right. Who’s with Jake?”
“You are. Liam will go with Dmitry.”
Jake found himself lagging in understanding. “Wait. What are we doing?”
“The first order of business is saving the submarines. That’s why I’m sending you to them.”
Jake nodded as the tactic of manning the submarines landed in his mind as the proper action. “Yeah. Ships are safer at sea.”
“Gather your three most important crewmen outside.”
Minutes later, Jake huddled with his team in the warm humidity. In the small circle stood his mechanic, Henri, his toad-headed sonar ace, Antoine Remy, his wire-framed engineering expert, Claude LaFontaine, and Cahill.
The group stared at each other in dumbfounded silence until Renard joined them. “That’s your ride.” The Frenchman pointed at lights that floated over the city’s low skyline. “The helicopter will drop off Dmitry’s crew first since the Wraith is closer. Then you’ll be dropped on the Specter. The security teams already have your submarines moving to sea.”
Jake wanted to avoid sounding ignorant, and he was relieved when the Australian posed the question. “What do we do when we get aboard?”
For the first time Jake could remember, he observed the friend, boss, and mentor he idolized operating beyond the bounds of his planning.
But like a warrior, the Frenchman adapted. “We’re reacting. That’s all we can do. Get your submarines to sea to keep them safe from whatever force took the Goliath, and standby for further orders. The security teams are already taking them toward sea, but each submarine should have its experts aboard. God knows if there are submarines waiting in ambush. God knows what other dangers await, and I want the submarines staffed and ready to run.”
Cahill smirked. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to say ‘ready to fight’.”
The Frenchman raised his voice as the Omani helicopter’s blades became audible. “I was thinking it.”
“Sink me ship?”
“I consider that an unacceptable loss. But I fear we’re likely to be battling someone. Sentries on the submarines can see the Goliath’s anchor chain being hoisted.
As the somberness of victimhood weighed upon him, Jake likened the experience to a terrorist attack. “They mean business.”
But his pain paled against that which he saw in Renard’s tight eyes and heard in his melancholy voice. “Indeed. And they’re moving with impressive speed through our complex ship. Someone’s done their homework.”
“But we can stop me ship without destroying it. Crippling ships is our specialty.”
Renard waved his palm. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Let’s first turn the tide of this disaster before I decide future steps.” A warm wind arose as the Lynx touched down on the restaurant’s lawn. “Dmitry’s crew will be last in, first out. Get the ships rigged for submergence and get them to snorkel depth. I don’t know what else is coming, if anything, but it’s best if you’re ready to hide. Now go!”
Leading his small reaction team, Jake ducked and trotted towards the helicopter. A crew chief extended his hand and helped him climb into the cabin’s stale air. Realizing he’d boarded an Arab-speaking nation’s war craft, he offered a probing salutation. “Do you speak English?”
The chief shook his head, but a crewman stepped forward. “I do. I handle translations for exercises with English-speaking navies.”
As his crew boarded, Jake sat amidst them and slipped on a helmet. While Volkov and his crew stepped into the aircraft, the Omani translator’s voice became crisp in speakers by his ears. “I am Chief Petty Officer Dawood. Raise your hand if you can hear me.”
Seven out of ten hands rose, and Jake spoke into his boom microphone. “Three of our team don’t speak English. Give our translator a moment please.”
Volkov’s translator nodded at Jake and repeated the instructions. A second order from the Omani with a subsequent Russian translation assured the strapping in of each passenger. Then the twin engines whined as the Lynx ascended.
Jake’s mind went numb as altitude offered him a bird’s-eye view of the harbor. With the aircraft beelining towards Volkov’s anchored submarine, the helicopter’s flight deck obscured his view of the crime scene.
The Omani’s voice crackled in Jake’s headset. “I will now hand you each your rappel harnesses. Please put them on. You’ll be at low altitude when you descend, but you still need to follow the procedure to avoid possible injury.”
Jake accepted his harness from the crew chief, contorted himself into it, and then felt it pinching him.
Like a flight attendant, the Omani stood and pantomimed the operation of the harness. “The most important tool is the brake. The crew chief will hook you in one at a time before you rappel.” He turned full circle and demonstrated how to slow the descent. “You’ll want to squeeze it liberally. It’s better to drop slowly and safely than to hurry. This is harder than it looks. We’ll be dropping you from approximately three to four meters. Keep the harnesses when you’re done. We brought extras.”