“No, sir. He’s heading straight for the minesweeper.”
“Charge ready?”
“Checking, sir. No grounds as of thirty minutes ago.”
“Fire the charge as soon as it’s ready.”
“Aye, sir, but if we wait till the chopper crew boards the sweep, we’ll kill two birds with one stone.”
Bostwick snapped, “Can the tactics shit, Dan. Just do as I say.”
Jack Olsen had arrived and exerted his newly discovered leverage. “Dunno, Captain. Sounds like a good idea to me. We’ll know if the copter goes into the ASW mode ’cause he’ll have to dunk an active sonar and we’ll hear that.”
Bostwick hesitated. “Think so, Jack? Okay, let’s give it a shot. I have the Conn. Give me a hand here, Dan. Up scope for a look at the helo,” the captain ordered.
Dan demanded via the 21MC, “Bearing, Sonar.”
A voice from the Sonar shack responded, “Three-zero-zero true, drawing right, Conn.”
With the scope out of the well, Bostwick pressed his eye into the optic. “Put me on the bearing,” he ordered.
Swinging the scope around, Dan called out the numbers when it reached the bearing. “One-one-zero relative!”
“Bearing, mark,” Bostwick said then signaled to lower the scope. “Not doing any ASW. He’s high-tailing it directly to the sweeper. Charges ready?”
Dan acknowledged they were ready for firing from the ordnance crew. “Checked and ready. No grounds, Captain. It ought to go.”
“It better. We only get one chance.”
“Another look, Captain?”
“Nothing to see. Have Sonar advise us when the helo bearings merge with the sweeper’s.”
By that time, Brent reached the Attack Center, he was elated to find Bostwick’s on again, off again self-confidence restored. The captain was in control and performing superbly.
The sonarman reported, “Conn, Sonar, helo in the baffles, lost in the minesweeper noise.”
“Conn, aye, Sonar,” Dan said then asked, “Another look, Captain?”
Bostwick ordered, “Up two.” He knelt at the well and pushed his eye against the lower optics as soon as they cleared. Dan snapped the handles into position and horsed the shaft to the Captain’s ordered bearing.
An instant later, the captain signaled, “Dip scope.”
The shaft stopped hissing when the upper optics submerged a few feet below the waves.
The captain briefed the Attack Center crew, “Chopper’s circling the sweeper. Sea state is a low three but solid overcast with enough whitecaps to make us too hard to spot. I’ll take look around a minute from now. Give me a mark, quartermaster.”
The quartermaster replied, “Mark in a minute, Captain.”
Brent noted how quickly the crew rallied to self-confidence shown by their leader. Bostwick again demonstrated when once committed, he performed well. The scope had been in the air less than a second, yet the captain had gleaned all he needed to generate a plan.
If only the captain could set aside his blind ambition to make flag rank, Brent thought, believing this to impede planning and most likely accounted for the rift between Bostwick and him.
Bostwick said, “I figure the helo will put a man aboard when they don’t see anyone on deck. That’s when we’ll let ’em have it.”
The quartermaster exclaimed, “Your sixty mark, Captain!”
The captain acknowledged the mark and said, “Okay, Dan. A three sixty in low power. We’ll dip then do sixty-degree increments in high. Stagger the intervals and drop the scope in three seconds whether I’m done or not. Got all that?”
Dan replied, “Got it, Captain.”
“Look around, up number two.”
The scope hissed from the well, the captain at the eyepiece and rotating before the upper stops engaged. Snap went the handle signal and the scope quickly lowered.
With a steady voice the captain said, “Okay, Dan, up scope for the sixties. On the bow first, high power.”
Dan stood on the opposite side of the scope, placed his left hand over the captain’s right and rolled the optics to high power. “You’re in high, Captain,” he said.
Bostwick blurted the words most feared in the Attack Center. “Oh shit!” followed quickly by, “Dip scope!” He went on, “More company. Top hamper of several warships. Mark this bearing, quartermaster.”
“How many?” Dan asked
“At least three, Dan. Maybe more. Between ten and fifteen degrees off the bow moving northeast, I’d say. Fifteen thousand and beyond. Bad part is they’re probably talking to the helo and he’s gotta be pretty dumb not to suspect and report something. Okay, let’s go back to the sweep. Up scope.”
The huge shaft snapped again up into the stops, with the captain’s eye in place. “Hot damn!” he exclaimed. “Fire the charge!” He left the scope up and waited.
Dan quickly ordered, “Radio, Conn, fire the charge!”
One, two, three passing seconds seemed like an eternity, then the rumble of an explosion shook Denver’s hull.
Bostwick cried out, “Got ’em both, now let’s go deep and get the hell out of here.”
Dan offered, “Maybe we got ’em before the chopper contacted anybody, Captain.”
The captain replied grimly, “And maybe we didn’t.”
Eric Danis had changed to his work khakis, ready to leave his plush quarters on the yacht, when a knock on the stateroom door interrupted his departure. “Come in,” he said.
Dave Zane thrust in his head, a squint-eyed grin spread over his round face. “Best we could do on such short notice, Commodore.”
“I need to know two things, Dave. One, am I going to have to put up with that commodore bullshit from you? And two, how much did it cost and how much trouble did you get me in with this damn yacht?”
No one could hold a grin as long as Dave Zane. “Commodore, I’ll take ’em one at a time. One, just as long as I have to put up with this captain bullshit; and two, nothing. The owner’s scared to death to take this thing to sea with a full-fledged war going on and nobody wants to buy it for the same reason. He’s so damn happy to get out from under moorage payments. We got it for nothing.”
Danis indulged himself a laugh. “You mean we’re mooring it here and not charging him anything?”
“You can’t expect me to think of everything. I’m an engineer, not a bean counter.”
“Seriously, she’s a beauty, Dave, and I thank you for it. But on the matter of titles, I’m afraid we got another one of our famous Mexican standoffs.”
“Half a victory’s not all that bad,” Dave replied then changing the subject, “I’m sure you’ve got Eve in tow. How is she and where are you staying?”
“Thanks for asking, Dave. Eve’s great. We moved into the thirty-second place since we got married. A small house in Grays Harbor. How she does it and maintains that steady attitude, I’ll never know.”
“Face it, Eric. You chose well. At least there’s some good in all this. Maybe now I’ll get you out to the Digs. And having Eve along is a bonus. Bea’ll be glad to see her. They got a lot of catching up to do. I’d say at least eight years worth. This weekend, or whenever you can.”
“I’ll check with her. This weekend’s likely a good time to give her a break from setting up.”
“Good. That place of ours cries out for company.”
“How do things go here, Dave? Gerry Carter tells me you’re a magician. I hear you want to start fixing propulsion reduction gears. That’d be a helluva coup if you could pull it off.”
“Need to bend a few rules.”
Danis asked, “When did that ever stop you?”
“Glad to hear you say that. I’ve got a fix on some parts. Took the bull by the horns this morning and got them moving in this direction. We got no one who’s ever done that before. But Carter’s found a guy and I’m gonna talk to him this afternoon.”