McCallum knew that the Navy’s unclassified dive rating for the Seawolf was eight hundred feet but every naval expert knew that was a joke. Jane’s Fighting Ships, the standard handbook for ships, rated the boat at being able to dive to two thousand. The Electric Boat Division at Groton had assured the Navy that Seawolf could do three thousand feet safely. Nobody knew exactly how far the ship could go because no one dared test it beyond three thousand. McCallum had taken Seawolf down to two thousand, eight hundred during the shake-out cruise, the maximum safety regulations allowed him.
“Everything’s set to keep us diving?” McCallum asked.
“Yes, sir.”
McCallum ran options through his mind, one after the other. “He couldn’t have reprogrammed the entire system.”
“We can’t blow ballast and we can’t control the bow planes,” Barrington said. “That’s enough to put us through max depth in-” the XO checked the stopwatch that hung around his neck- “just under four minutes.”
“OK, we do what he won’t have planned for and adjusted the computer for.” McCallum stepped out of the puddle of water that had formed under his feet. “Is the combat systems compartment secure?”
“We can’t get in, sir,” Barrington said. “All hatches are secure. We could try to burn through but that would take a good half-hour.”
McCallum nodded. “All right. Dive Chief, flood the CSM compartment.”
A look of confusion, followed by comprehension crossed the Chief’s face. “Aye, aye, sir.”
Bateman looked up blankly as a spray of water burst out of a pipe in the ceiling, followed by several others that increased in flow until a torrent of water poured into the compartment.
He stared at the rising water, then pulled his gun out, put it against the side of his head directly over the small bump behind his right ear, and pulled the trigger. Brains and blood splattered across the room to be immediately washed away by the surging water.
Sparks flew as the salt water entered the mainframe computer and shorted out the workings.
Lights flashed in the operations center, then the emergency back-up power came on, bathing the room in a red glow.
“All systems controlled by the computer are down,” Barrington reported.
“Do we have manual control?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Twenty-eight hundred feet and still steady down at four-oh-oh feet per minute,” the Dive Chief announced.
McCallum barked out orders. “Chief dive planes full up. Blow all ballast manually. Engine room full reverse.”
McCallum didn’t need the dive chief’s verbal report. He could clearly see the red digital display that showed the submarine’s current depth. They clicked through 3,000 as the crew raced to do manually what they normally used their computer assisted controls. In the forward part of the ship, the computer control on the dive planes had released and men struggled to turn the large fins via a crankshaft.
“Gentlemen, we have a new dive record for the Seawolf class submarine,” McCallum announced.
“Thirty-one hundred feet and dive rate slowing through three-oh-oh feet per minute,” the Dive Chief reported.
McCallum looked over his executive officer. “Let’s hope the boys at the Electric Boat Company weren’t sleeping on the job.”
“Thirty-two hundred and dive rate slowing through one-five-oh feet per minute.”
Barrington nodded. “We’re going to-”
The entire ship suddenly vibrated like a guitar string pulled too tight, cutting off whatever the XO was going to say.
McCallum’s eyes were riveted on the dive meter. The numbers were moving less slowly, but the submarine was still going down. Thirty-three hundred feet and the sound was getting louder. McCallum could feel the fear coming off everyone in the operations center like a wave of penetrating cold air that settled in the spine and wrapped around the stomach. It was a moment every submariner had had nightmares about and prayed they’d never face.
“Trim?” McCallum asked.
“Nose down six degrees and leveling,” Barrington answered. “We’re having to adjust for the flooded CSM.”
Given that the Seawolf was 353 feet long, that meant the nose was a bit deeper than the rest of the ship. McCallum’s eyes shifted forward to the hatch in the front of the operations center.
He knew if anything gave, it should come from that direction. And if anything gave, everything inside would give. The interior hatches would pop like paper against a compression jack all the way through the ship. It would all be over in a couple of seconds.
“Level,” the Dive Chief announced to a hushed audience. “Dive rate zero.”
McCallum looked at the gauge. 3,563.
“Take her up,” McCallum ordered. “Slowly. Dive Chief, please note depth for the record.”
Dane, Sin Fen, Ariana and DeAngelo listened to the report from Foreman inside the communications sphere. A tsunami hitting Puerto Rico, the nuclear explosion at Groton and the near-sinking of the Seawolf, the infiltration of the SOSUS system and the increase in size of the gates- the litany was shocking.
Dane leaned back, the only noise in the sphere after Foreman’s fell silent, the sound of the heater blowing hot air. He felt tired and confused. The images from Sin Fen’s mind disturbed him as much as the news Foreman had relayed.
“The Shadow is paving the way for an all out attack,” Sin Fen broke the silence.
“That’s what Conners at the NSA thinks and it certainly appears that way,” Foreman agreed. “Groton and the Seawolf were both attempts to cripple our underwater warfare capability. The tsunami was simply a side-effect.”
Dane stirred. “‘Side-effect?’ Thousands dead and you call it a side-effect.”
“Hundreds are dead at Groton,” Foreman snapped. “Six nuclear submarines worth over a two and a half billion dollars destroyed. We’re still trying to figure out how much radiation escaped the pen and how many people will be affected by the fallout. That’s on top of the radiation from the nuke strikes in the Atlantic. I’m calling the tsunami a side-effect because it was a result of the force that came out of the triangle and attempted to destroy you. Save your pontificating for someone else.”
“I’m not pontificating,” Dane shot back. “I’m just trying to keep some perspective on the stakes involved rather than the cost. There’s a difference you know!”
For a few seconds only the sound of the heater-blower filled the communications sphere.
“And SOSUS?” Ariana asked. “Is it just a ploy or is the Shadow trying to do underwater what we stopped them from doing through the atmosphere?”
“There’s no radioactivity detected yet,” Foreman said. “Just some electro-magnetic abnormalities. Hell, they might even be using SOSUS like we are- to keep track of what’s going on underwater.”
“What are you going to do?” Dane asked.
“The prudent thing would be to shut SOSUS down,” Foreman said, “but I think Conners is right- we should hold off on that and keep an eye on the gates.”
“Let me ask you something,” Dane said. “You’re talking about the possibility you could be getting set up on the SOSUS network. We’re at this spot because of the map etched on the Scorpion’s sail. Now it looks like the sub was booby-trapped by the Shadow. Maybe this was a trap? Like the Greeks putting a sign on the Trojan Horse? Not only did we take the Horse in, we followed the directions on the side of it.”
“I don’t think so,” Sin Fen said. “I do not believe the writing and map on the submarine was from the Shadow. Remember there are two sides inside the Triangle. Both could have used the Scorpion.”
Dane laughed at the absurdity as he had a moment of clarity. “The Seawolf was keeping tabs on us too, wasn’t it, Foreman? If this was some sort of trap or double-cross you were ready to blow us out of the water.” Dane didn’t need an answer. He knew it was true. But he also knew’ that what Sin Fen said was true- the writing on the side of the Scorpion had not been a trap. A human hand, a free human hand, had written that.