With his high hopes dashed, Mac guided CURV back to. the surface. He couldn’t hide his disappointment as he made his way to the chart table to cross off one more promising contact.
He was in the process of recording the current location of the K-l mini-sub when an ensign informed him that he was wanted down in the radio room. Supposing that he had a call coming in from Washington, Mac went to see what it was all about.
The radio room was situated on the deck below. Being no stranger to this portion of the Lynch, he found it on his own, and expecting next to hear Admiral Long’s voice at the end of the line, picked up the handset.
“Commander Mackenzie here.”
The voice on the other end was a bit scratchy, but otherwise clear.
“Commander, this is Lieutenant Newton aboard the frigate USS Hawes. We’re out here on picket duty, and have just intercepted a fishing trawler.
There are two individuals on board this vessel, and they’re insisting that they speak to the person in charge of the nuclear bomb recovery.”
This hadn’t been the first trespasser that they’d had to contend with, though one element of the lieutenant’s report immediately caught Mac’s attention.
“Did they explicitly say nuclear bomb recovery, Lieutenant Newton?”
“Yes they did, Commander. That’s why I decided to inform you personally, because I didn’t think that our real purpose out here was public knowledge.”
“It most definitely is not, Lieutenant. You have my permission to escort them over to the Lynch at once.”
Not having the vaguest idea how these outsiders had learned about the true nature of their search, Mac hung up the handset. He arrived up on the Lynch’s bridge in time to see the frigate approaching from the west. He needed binoculars to spot the small wooden trawler that followed in the sleek warship’s wake. Supposing that this could all be nothing but a wild guess on the part of these fishermen, Mac waited until the trawler was only a few hundred yards away before climbing down to the main deck and making his way to the gangway.
The Lynch’s deck crew alertly deployed several thick rubberized fenders as the trawler moved in to complete its rendezvous. As the two bobbing ships got closer together, a tall, sandy-haired man called out from the trawler’s transom.
“Is Commander Mackenzie there?”
“I’m Mackenzie,” answered Mac, who stood amidships, at the deck’s edge.
“I’m Major Colin Stewart, commanding officer of Her Majesty’s 75th Highlanders, and I’ve got some rather distressing news about your efforts out here.
You see, I believe I know where one of those missing bombs that you’re searching for can be located.”
This was all that Mac had to hear to signal the Scotsman to join him on the Lynch. With a bit of effort the battered trawler tied up to the oceanographic ship’s side, and its two occupants climbed aboard using a portable rope ladder.
The Scotsman proved to be about Mac’s height. Mac guessed that he was in his early forties, though his build was solid and muscular.
“I realize that this whole meeting is a bit unusual, Commander. But I’m certain that you’ll soon enough understand the unique circumstances surrounding it. I’d like you to meet Liam Lafferty. Mr. Lafferty is a fisherman from Dundalk. It was his trawler that brought us out here.”
“I suppose you’d be the fellow responsible for putting those fliers down at the docks,” remarked Liam as he studied the blond-haired Yank naval officer.
“I guess I should have contacted you when I first found the blasted thing. From what it looks out here, it would have sure saved you a lot of time and trouble.”
Mac had to look to the Scotsman for an explanation of Liam’s puzzling confession.
“What Mr. Lafferty’s trying to say is that he was out at sea on the night that your B-52 went down here.”
“May I ask how it is that you know about the crash, Major?” asked a perplexed Mac.
“Not at all, Commander. You see, I’m the C.O. of one of the units that the First Sea Lord informed of the accident soon after it occurred. And it’s a good thing that I was included in this group, because otherwise I might have never been able to figure it all out as I have. Is there somewhere a bit more private where we can hash this whole thing out?”
His curiosity fully piqued, Mac nodded and led them inside. An empty compartment that had been set up for use as a classroom served their purposes perfectly.
And with the hatch secured, Colin Stewart continued.
“Though a lot of the details are unnecessary at this point, for expedience’ sake, let’s just say that my personal involvement with this whole thing began when I arrived in Ireland on the trail of a suspected terrorist.
It was while I was in the midst of this search that I met Mr. Lafferty here, and first heard about the object that he fished from these waters. Liam, why don’t you share with the Commander the story you told me earlier?”
Liam proceeded to repeat his account of the fated night when the sky caught fire. The blond-haired Yank seemed genuinely fascinated with his tale, and was particularly eager to know more about the exact shape of the object.
“Would you mind drawing it on the blackboard for me?” asked the likable American.
A bit shyly, Liam walked up to the portable blackboard at the head of the classroom. Never known for his drawing skills, he did his best to convey the object’s cylindrical shape. He even went so far as to include the narrow fins that were attached to one end of it.
“Why, that’s incredible!” remarked the Yank as he studied Liam’s rendering.
“You say that you actually brought it aboard all by yourself and then took it back to Dundalk with you?”
“That I did,” returned the fisherman.
“It’s just too bad that the Doc’s already left for Port Glasgow, because it seems he could have saved a lot of trouble merely by bringing it directly to you.”
Confused by this remark, Mac turned to Colin Stewart for clarification.
“Dr. Blackwater is Liam’s friend who agreed to handle the object’s return to its proper owners.”
A look of sudden relief crossed Mac’s face.
“Thank God for that.”
“Don’t be so quick giving your thanks. Commander,” retorted the Scotsman.
“It appears that Dr. Blackwater is involved with the terrorist organization whose antics originally brought me to Ireland. I also have reason to believe that he knows the exact nature of the object he’s currently ferrying across the Irish Sea.” Looking at Liam at this point, Colin Stewart added, “Mr. Lafferty, would you mind waiting outside for a moment?”
Liam shrugged his narrow shoulders, and not really knowing what he was doing here in the first place, did as he was instructed. Only when the fisherman slammed the cabin door shut behind him did the Highlander continue.
“Pardon my circumspection. Commander, but the old-timer still thinks that it was a piece of a satellite that he pulled from the sea that night. And that terrorist who brought me to Ireland in the first place was his own son. He appears to be a member of the Irish Republican Brotherhood. The IRB is a violent Marxist organization whose goal is the removal of all British influence from Northern Ireland, and the creation of a single Socialist Irish Republic.
“This Dr. Blackwater that currently has the bomb is also a member of the IRB. He knows full well that the bomb is not a satellite, and he intends to use it to further their twisted cause. Why, I’ve only just returned from his estate in County Caven, where I lost one of my men during a violent clash with some of his cronies.