Cakes laughed. "Why put a contract on us, Stanley?"
Stanley put a finger to his lips and whispered. "We sink their ship, kill their sailors. They want an eye for a tooth."
Fogarty poured two cups of coffee and balancing them precariously returned to the sonar room where he found Davic and Willie Joe crowded around Sorensen's console. Sorensen had activated the new sonars.
Barracuda was at four hundred feet. A school of tuna passed under the ship at a thousand feet, turning the screen into a swirl of green dots. Sorensen took his coffee from Fogarty, punched a button, and most of the fish disappeared. "This sonar is computer-enhanced. It compensates for the thermals," he said. "Not completely, not perfectly, but it helps."
"What's the point?" Davic asked. "No sub goes that deep anyway."
Sorensen said, "I dunno, Davic. You never can tell. Go ahead and sit down. You're going to have to learn how to use this."
Davic and Willie Joe each took a turn, and Fogarty was taking his when the overhead speakers came to life.
"Attention all hands. This is the captain. I'm sure you all recall Admiral Netts' visit to our ship in Naples. Now that we have put to sea, I am authorized to read you a communication from him. It is dated yesterday and addressed to all the officers and men of Barracuda, SSN five nine three. The message is as follows:
GENTLEMEN, I WISH TO COMMEND ALL OF YOU
FOR AN OUTSTANDING PERFORMANCE DURING
THE EXERCISE THAT RESULTED IN YOUR
UNFORTUNATE COLLISION WITH A SOVIET
SUBMARINE. AS MANY OF YOU KNOW, IT WAS
BELIEVED AT THE TIME THAT THE SOVIET
SUBMARINE SANK. I WISH FOR ALL OF YOU TO
KNOW THAT, TO THE BEST OF OUR KNOWLEDGE,
THIS WAS NOT THE CASE. THE SOVIET SUBMARINE
DID NOT SINK, ALTHOUGH WE DO NOT KNOW
WHETHER OR NOT HER CREW SUFFERED CASUALTIES.
THE SOVIET NAVY HAS NOT ACKNOWLEDGED THE
COLLISION. IT IS PROBABLE THAT THE SUBMARINE
STILL IS OPERATING IN THE MEDITERRANEAN, BUT
EVENTUALLY SHE MUST PASS THROUGH THE
STRAIT OF GIBRALTAR AND INTO THE ATLANTIC.
ONCE VALLEJO IS CLEAR OF A REPORTED RUSSIAN
PICKET AND FREE TO BEGIN HER PATROL IN THE
MEDITERRANEAN, BARRACUDA'S ORDERS ARE
TO REMAIN ON-STATION ON THE ATLANTIC SIDE OF
THE STRAIT OF GIBRALTAR AND WAIT FOR THE
SOVIET SUBMARINE TO ATTEMPT A TRANSIT
WESTBOUND. YOU CANNOT STOP HER, BUT YOU
WILL FOLLOW HER AND YOU WILL HAVE THE
ASSISTANCE OF THE SOSUS DEEP-SUBMERGENCE
SONARS IN THE ATLANTIC. USE EVERY MEANS AT
YOUR DISPOSAL TO COLLECT AS MUCH INFORMATION
ABOUT HER AS POSSIBLE. GOOD LUCK AND GOOD
HUNTING. SIGNED, EDWARD P. NETTS.
"That is all."
Stunned silence greeted the captain's speech. In every compartment each sailor was thinking the same thing, but in the torpedo room, Johnson, the mate, said it aloud. "Holy shit, the ship that hit us is still alive. Alive and kicking and maybe after our ass." A rumble of assent issued from the other torpedomen.
Lopez looked hard at Johnson. "Cool down, Johnson. We're going to find her, follow her, harass her ass from here to Leningrad, but that's it. Got it?"
Johnson nodded sullenly, but there was no doubt what he was thinking… get them before they get us…
In the sonar room Springfield's announcement interrupted the test of the new passive array.
Davic blanched. "She is not sunk? Sorensen, what does this mean?"
"It means it was hit and run."
"But the implosions…"
"Faked."
"You knew about this."
"What if I did? Now you know about it too. And I'll give you all something to think about. This is a new class of ship that can go down to at least four thousand feet, maybe deeper."
"Four thousand feet!" Davic shook his head. "What is it? A bathyscaph?"
"No, it's an attack boat, class name Alpha. She's a noisy devil. We have her signature. We got it just before the collision."
"If it's so noisy," Willie Joe asked, "why can't anybody find it?"
"That's a good question. My guess is she's been running slow and deep, maybe on electric power, but she has to come up to pass through the Strait. She got in because we weren't looking for her."
"How many do they have?" Davic asked.
"So far, we only know about this one."
"Where is it?" Davic persisted. "Is it coming after us?"
"Why would the Russians come after us?" Sorensen snapped.
"Because we have discovered their new ship, of course."
"I don't think they'll do that, Davic. All we know is that they can go deep. We don't know how. I don't think they'll do anything so stupid. I figure all they want is to get that sub out of the Med and on its way home." At least I hope that's all, he added to himself. And then, as much to reassure himself as the others, he said, "Jesus Christ, we re not at war with these people."
"We should nuke their shipyards," Davic muttered.
"The next time I see Admiral Netts I'll tell him you said so, Davic. In the meantime let's get on with this test. This toy just might help us detect a deep-running sub."
Exactly on schedule they heard the thrashing sounds of a submarine.
"Sonar to control. Contact bearing zero seven two degrees, speed twelve knots, course two eight eight, range eight miles. It's Vallejo, skipper."
"Very well, sonar. All hands man maneuvering stations."
Davic and Willie Joe took their asbestos suits and went forward to their damage-control stations.
"Control to navigation, set course zero seven two degrees."
"Navigation, aye. Course zero seven two degrees."
"All ahead half."
"All ahead half, aye."
Barracuda accelerated, her course parallel to that of the big missile ship emerging from the bay. The two subs swept past each other a hundred yards apart, frothing the sea like a pod of whales, then turned and steamed past one another again. They crisscrossed back and forth twice more.
Fogarty was shaking his head. "Why don't we just send the Russians a telegram telling them where we are?"
"That's the idea."
"But that's nuts. Can't they tell us apart?"
"No. Our signatures are almost identical. We have the same reactor, same reduction gears and the same prop as Vallejo. He has to get within a mile to tell the difference. For the moment, we're bait. We want this Russkie to come after us so Vallejo can escape. That's the name of the game, to help Vallejo shake her tail. Hang on. You'll see. HMS Valiant is just inside the Strait, off Gibraltar, and some heavy-duty British ASW forces. No Russian captain has ever tried to run that gauntlet except the damned Alpha. We still don't know exactly how that son of a bitch got in there, but he did, and maybe this one will try it, too, if we can't juke him into coming after us."
"Maybe the picket is the Alpha."
Sorensen let his face fold slowly into a smile. "And if it is? Is that what's making you nervous?"
Fogarty shrugged, trying to maintain a casual air. "He rammed us once. I'd rather not give him a second chance."
"You know what I think, Fogarty? I think you're pissed off at the Russians for fucking your head around. I think your high-minded ideals are out the window. I think you're ready to make war."
"I'm not crazy, Sorensen."
"I hope not."
"Except this is a war now, Sorensen… an electronic war of nerves…"
"It's Cowboys and Cossacks, Fogarty. It's just a game. Believe it."