Michigan’s torpedo would have to pass beneath both warships on the near side of the formation before going active, when its independent processing would take over, attacking the first valid target identified, which would hopefully be the merchant. While it was a scenario Wilson and his crew had trained for, it would have to be carefully managed.
“Firing Point Procedures,” Wilson announced, “Master one, tube One primary, tube Two backup. Use standard surface presets, except enable each weapon one thousand yards from Master one.”
Montgomery stopped briefly behind each of the combat control consoles, examining the target solution on each one, tapping one of the fire control technicians. The technician pressed a button on his console and Montgomery called out, “Solution ready.”
The operator at the Weapon Launch Console sent the course, speed, and range of their target to the torpedoes in tubes One and Two, along with applicable search presets, then announced, “Weapon ready.”
“Ship ready,” Lieutenant Resor announced, informing Wilson that the submarine’s torpedo countermeasures — their decoys and jammers — were ready to deploy.
“Match Sonar bearing and shoot!” Wilson ordered.
The torpedo was ejected from its tube, then turned to an intercept course with Master one.
Under normal circumstances, it was unlikely the Russian warship crews would detect the incoming MK 48 torpedo. It was fired from long range, so the launch transient would have been undetectable. The torpedo’s sonar would be dormant during the inbound transit, programmed to turn on after it passed beneath both warships. The torpedo’s engine noise was also unlikely to alert anyone of the attack, given the warships’ own propulsion-related noise and the proximity of the loud merchant.
However, Wilson was attacking at night, and the bioluminescent trail of the incoming torpedo would be detectable. The two Russian warships on this side of the formation would likely counterfire.
Wilson waited tensely as their torpedo sped toward the five-ship convoy. When it was several thousand yards away, Sonar made the report Wilson feared.
“Torpedo in the water, bearing one-zero-five! Correlates to launch from Master two.” A few seconds later, Sonar followed up. “Second torpedo in the water, bearing one-zero-eight! Correlates to launch from Master four.”
Wilson responded immediately, “Helm, ahead full. Dive, make your depth four hundred feet.”
Two lightweight torpedoes were headed Michigan’s way, launched from the Russian warships’ deck-mounted torpedo tubes. Sonar confirmed Wilson’s assessment.
“Sonar, Conn. Incoming torpedoes are classified as Paket-NK lightweight torpedoes.”
As Michigan tilted downward and accelerated, Wilson evaluated the nearest tactical display, selecting the optimal evasion course.
“Helm, left full rudder, steady course three-four-zero.”
The Helm complied and Michigan turned to port.
Normally, evading a lightweight torpedo fired from this distance wouldn’t be difficult, but these two were traveling side by side, sweeping a large swath of the ocean with their sonars. The torpedo to the north might approach close enough to detect Michigan. Wilson decided to give it something to focus on besides his submarine.
“Officer of the Deck, launch countermeasures.”
Lieutenant Resor complied, launching a torpedo decoy, followed by an acoustic jammer.
69
FAIRFAX, VIRGINIA
Christine tried to talk her way out of Rolow’s madness — killing a CIA director in his study — but he had an answer for everything. Christine had two protective agents in her SUV parked outside, who would know she had been killed in the DDO’s home, but Rolow pointed out that neither man would be threatened as he emerged from his home and approached the vehicle, stopping by the driver’s side. The window would be rolled down to speak with the DDO, and it would be over in seconds, both agents dead. Their bodies would be disposed of, along with Christine’s, in a suitable location, and one of America’s enemies would be blamed.
Their conversation seemed to be coming to an end when the doorbell rang.
Rolow handed his pistol to Brenda and went to his computer, pulling up a nine-panel grid of security cameras. On one of them, Harrison and Khalila stood at the front door. Harrison pressed the doorbell again.
Christine capitalized on the unexpected arrival of the two agency officers.
“They know I’m here,” she said. “Before I arrived, I called Harrison and told him to meet me here. Plus, my SUV is out front. You can’t kill me now, unless you plan to kill Khalila and Harrison, along with my protective agents. You can’t surprise all four of them at once.”
“Leave that up to me,” Rolow growled.
Christine had no idea how Khalila would factor into all of this, but she left that for Rolow to worry about.
He took the pistol back from Brenda, then told her to wait in his bedroom, so her presence in the study wouldn’t alert Harrison or Khalila to the ongoing foul play.
After she left, Rolow approached Christine, placing the pistol barrel against her head.
“When Harrison and Khalila arrive,” he said, “play along and you’ll live. We’ll work something out afterward.”
Christine knew Rolow was lying. His only way out was to kill all three of them, then lay the blame on Khalila, an al-Qaeda agent who had infiltrated the CIA. Still, at least there was a glimmer of hope when there had been none before. Both Harrison and Khalila were armed, which gave them a chance.
In the meantime, Christine nodded her understanding — she’d play along, for now.
Rolow placed the weapon in the pants waistband behind his back, then pressed a key on his computer, unlatching the front door.
“Come in,” he said to the computer display. “We’re upstairs in the study.”
Christine watched Harrison and Khalila enter the foyer, then head upstairs.
Jake Harrison climbed the stairs to the second floor of Rolow’s house, spotting two cell phones on a small table beside a door. He knocked, and when Rolow acknowledged, he entered the DDO’s study, followed by Khalila.
He immediately sensed that something was wrong. Christine and Rolow were standing opposite each other, and there was something unnatural about Christine’s posture. She stood stiffly and seemed worried, maybe even afraid. He tried not to let on as he greeted Rolow and moved toward Christine, keeping the DDO in front of him.
Khalila hung back near the door. She’d been in a dark mood since their conversation in the car, when she had agreed to abide by their agreement — she would take no action against Harrison as long as he kept her identity a secret. The situation had become more complicated now that McFarland and likely others in the CIA knew who she was.
As he studied the DDO, Harrison came to the conclusion that something was definitely wrong. Rolow was tense as well. Harrison’s instincts told him — act now!
He pulled his pistol from his shoulder harness and leveled it at Rolow. He saw Rolow’s right hand twitch — he had started going for something behind his back, then decided otherwise.
“He’s armed,” Christine said. “He’s got a pistol behind his back. He was going to kill me.”
“Really,” Harrison said, his eyes narrowing as he remained focused on Rolow. “Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly.”