Tuff continued to be an invaluable asset, his thorough knowledge of the ship’s interior layout allowing them to proceed to their goal on the most direct route.
The passageway they were presently transiting would take them to the after tunnel escape trunk. Here a ladder would convey them straight down to Eight Deck, and the aftmost section of the Engine Room. This was where the dual propeller shafts penetrated the hull. It was also where they’d find the two emergency pitch levers.
Thomas had to hurry to keep up with Tuffs brisk stride, and he noted that the passenger cabins they were passing were sealed with tape. Tuff explained that this was all part of their original security plan. Yet before Thomas could learn more about it, the sound of a woman moaning caught their attention.
They found her in the anteroom to the very next cabin on their right, just as her attacker, hearing them approach, wheeled around to face the two ship’s officers. He snatched up his machine gun and demanded, “What in the hell are you doing here?”
Stonily, Tuff replied, “Obviously not having as much fun as you are, my friend. We’re just on our way to our watch stations.”
Sunny examined the tall, dark-haired crew member who stood beside the stocky security officer, and commented curiously, “If that’s the case, where’s your escort? No officers are allowed to transit the ship without one of us present.”
“It seems that your staff was spread a bit thin, and the chap guarding the Library trusted us to go to work on our own. After all,” added Tuff in his most accommodating tone. “It’s not like we’ve got anywhere to escape to.”
A skeptical grunt passed Sunny’s lips, and he disgustedly shook his head. “That lazy fool,” he muttered. “Come on, you two. It’s back to the Library, until I hear otherwise.”
Sunny raised the stubby barrel of his weapon. Yet before getting on with the job of escorting his prisoners back to confinement in the Library, he readdressed his victim, who had slumped to the floor, weeping.
“And you, my lovely, wait right here. We’ve got unfinished business to attend to!”
Ricky Patton watched this entire capture on a video screen. Stunned, he was able to isolate a succession of cameras in order to follow the gun-toting terrorist as he led Tuff and Thomas forward to the E Stairwell where they climbed up to the Quarter Deck.
Ricky allowed himself a breath of relief only when one of the monitors showed the two cool-headed captives being directed into the ship’s Library. There they discreetly disappeared into the ranks of the other prisoners.
The terrorist who had captured them didn’t tarry. He returned below deck with all due haste, and Ricky had no doubt where he was headed.
A quick check of the bulkhead-mounted clock showed that a little more than an hour remained until the SEALs were scheduled to arrive. Ricky cursed their misfortune, and knew that the key ingredients in the retaking of the ship were Thomas Kellogg and Tuff. Somehow, they had to be released from confinement before midnight.
Ricky pondered his limited options. He could sit here, do nothing, and watch their only chance for rescue go down the drain. Or he could risk his life and that of his father, by using the key that Tuff had provided to head for the Library himself.
Kristin feared that her father might have a stroke, so intense was his outrage as they arrived in the Security Room and found the open handcuffs dangling from the console and Ricky nowhere to be seen.
Kristin tried her best to control her father’s ever rising anger by suggesting that one of their associates could be merely escorting Ricky to the restroom.
Several tense minutes passed, and as the wall clock neared eleven with no Ricky in sight, Dennis Liu’s constrained rage exploded.
“Damn that brat! I should have never left him without supervision.
Kristin, get to work on that console, and track down that young friend of yours. Then personally retrieve him, and join me in the Radio Room.
If the fates are with us, there’s still a chance that we’ll be able to make good the uplink with Red Star. And only after we’ve passed on the codes to the admiral will I personally make good my previous threats to young Comrade Patton.”
40
Benjamin paced the red-lit confines of the USS Folk’s control room. It was frustrating knowing there was a hostile submarine somewhere in the surrounding seas that their sonar was unable to detect. Kram had only just come from yet another visit with Brad Bodzin and his team, and had seen their waterfall displays firsthand. Except for the signature of the QE2, there wasn’t another vessel on their screens, which meant that the HMS Talent was also not being picked up by their sensors.
“An hour to go until showtime, Skipper,” observed COB, who was seated between the two helmsmen. “Are we still good to go?”
Kram answered while studying the dozens of softly glowing dials and gauges of the diving-control panel. “We’ve still got sixty minutes to tag that Han. And until that time is expired, I want to use every second to our best advantage, including getting our SEALs prepped and ready to deploy.”
“It’s a damn shame about the Baikal and the Casablanca, Skipper,” COB remarked. “At least the end was quick. Both hulls imploded almost instantaneously, and the crews were dead before they even knew what hit them.” Setting his hands on COB’s shoulders, Kram added, “Do me a favor, and let me know the instant Bodzin’s ready for the next sprint-and-drift sequence. I’ll be next door with Commander Gilbert.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper,” said COB as he turned his attention back to the helm.
Kram’s next stop took him to the compartment situated immediately aft of the control room. This area was reserved for SEAL Team Two’s operations center.
Seated at the long, rectangular console lining the op center’s starboard side were three members of the SEAL team. These individuals were responsible for monitoring the Folk’s dry-deck shelter, or DOS.
The shelter itself was mounted on the sub’s outer deck abaft the sail.
It was comprised of a central hangar, where the SDV was stored, and an emergency dive chamber, for treatment of the bends. Another instrumental part of the DDS was the access trunk that penetrated the Folk’s hull and was entered at the base of missile-tube number six.
Before the SDV could be launched, both the trunk and the hangar would have to be flooded to equalize sea pressure. This was a complicated, dangerous process, coordinated by the three SEALs currently seated at the DDS console.
This console was unique to the Polk. At the aftmost position sat the tender. His all-important job was to monitor the pressure gauges belonging to the main hangar, and log the time that the divers were kept submerged, while keeping track of all personnel. Seated to his right was the DDS dive supervisor. The gauges that he was responsible for watching included the trunk and chamber readings. At the far right-hand position was the shelter officer. This individual was in charge of all communications with the dive team. He was wearing compact headphones, with a microphone around his neck.
A series of three video screens were mounted into the bulkhead above the opposite console. They displayed several underwater views of the dry-deck shelter, as well as the image visible through the Folk’s periscope. Commander Gilbert was seated beneath these monitors, watching his men make their initial preparations on the DDS console.
Lt. Col. Lawrence Laycob sat at his side, calmly sipping a cup of tea, with an open notebook on his lap.
“Gentlemen,” greeted Kram, sitting down on the edge of the console and listening as the shelter officer began a mike check. “I gather that your preparations remain on schedule?”