“Very well, sonar room,” Brody said. “Set new tripwire at five feet. Helm, to maneuvering, slow to three knots.”
Jake watched Renard raise the other periscope.
“I will help you look for the Tai Chiang,” Renard said.
McKenzie appeared from the ladder. A ring of grime outlined his face.
“Jake, the hatches are open. You can almost see again in the missile compartment, and no sign of the fire reflashing. What next?”
“Go blow the doomsday buoy bolts so we can get to the life rafts. Then drag these canvas survival bags onto the lip around the lower forward escape hatch.”
Jake squinted through the optics of the Colorado’s number one periscope. Under an early summer Arctic sun, he made out a trace of white water. He twisted the optics to high power to magnify the Tai Chiang’s bow wake. Above the white spray, the black pits of bridge windows encircled the apex of a hazy gray triangle.
“I see the Tai Chiang!” he said. “Bearing two-eight-one.”
“Merde, that ship is stealthy and built for war! Given that he has not shot us, he must still intend to board us.”
Jake took his eye off the scope.
“So now what?” he asked.
Renard leaned back and withdrew his Marlboro.
“I will make an offer they cannot resist,” Renard said. “Money in exchange for warheads and the fulfillment of my destiny.”
CHAPTER 32
The air had cleared enough in the missile compartment so that Jake could read a laminated sheet of instructions through his OBA facemask.
Where’s a missile technician when I need one, he thought. These valve labels are hard to read.
He twisted an orange hydraulic valve and heard a clunk. A metal ring creaked open above his head, and the missile tube’s locking mechanism rotated open.
“Guess that was it,” he said.
He awaited word from Renard before twisting the final valve to open the hatch.
In the control room, Renard listened to the commanding officer of the Tai Chiang over the radio.
“I will speak only with the Sergeant,” Lin said.
“I’m sorry, but he, all of his team, and half of the Americans were killed in a fire,” Renard said. “You’ve seen our smoke?”
“This deviation is unacceptable,” Lin said.
“And, I assure you, colliding with a wall of ice and igniting half of this ship were unacceptable deviations as well. We’ve dealt with them. You, too, must adapt.”
“Open the missile hatches.”
“Just as soon as you contact your superiors to verify that the final payment has been made.”
“Open the hatches!”
Renard watched through the periscope as the Tai Chiang came closer.
“Open the hatches, or I will blow them open.”
“Shooting at your warheads will only damage them,” Renard said. “If you attack us, we will broadcast a message to the United States Coast Guard informing them of our situation. The message is drafted and in our radio queue. We’ve also inserted the message into two water-activated communications buoys. One buoy is in a launcher, the other is in the arms of the man you see shivering in front of our sail.”
“You would threaten me?” Lin asked.
“Not threaten,” Renard said. “Warn. This is a lengthy warship. Any weapons you might shoot would be well placed indeed if they’re to preclude all means of our informing the Coast Guard.”
Renard watched the Tai Chiang slow by the Colorado’s side.
“I have pulled alongside and will be mating our ships,” Lin said. “Open the hatches.”
“Soon,” Renard said. “I will have Scott return inside the ship with his buoy. While I’m doing that, you will begin the final financial transactions — if you want your warheads.”
“Tripwire,” Schmidt said. “Five feet of ice…”
Brody staggered and grabbed a handrail as the Miami dipped and veered. Overhead, metal scraped and ice cracked.
The control room fell silent as the deck leveled.
“Control room, sonar room,” Schmidt said, “clear water above. We’re free of the icepack.”
“Where’s the Colorado?” Brody asked.
“We hold him on bearing one-nine-two. He’s dead in the water, but we have no clue of range. Should we transmit active?” Schmidt asked.
“No, I don’t want to alert him. We’ll drive the geometry to get his range,” Brody said.
“We can have a range in five minutes.”
Brody swallowed second thoughts about sealing Jake’s fate. Sitting duck or not, he had to die.
“I’m shooting in four minutes,” Brody said. “Get me a range in three. Firing point procedures, USS Colorado, tube one.”
“Mister Renard,” Lin said, “I have contacted the appropriate people. Your funds have been transferred. I have been instructed to permit you to verify the monetary transfer. You have wireless phones and know the correct numbers to call. Make haste.”
“Splendid! I will open the hatches and verify the funds. If you’ve lied to me, I will close the hatches on your men’s heads.”
It is settled, Lin thought. I am killing that man.
The Tai Chiang drifted beside the Colorado. A torpedo nest protruded from the stealth craft over the Trident, and a sliding ladder lay on the nest. A Taiwanese sailor lugging a tool bag braved the crawl across the ladder and jumped onto the Colorado.
The sailor attacked an inverted cleat with a socket wrench set and rolled it over. Shipmates on the Tai Chiang lobbed him a tethered ball. He grabbed it and dragged the attached nylon mooring line to the Colorado’s cleat.
The sailor wrapped the line and moved to three more cleats. As shipmates joined him on the Trident, more mooring lines united the vessels.
Missile hatches on the Colorado’s port side lay open over the water, offering entrance to the warheads.
Brody saw Schmidt’s head in a doorway.
“Sir, we have a problem. Some ship just tied up to the Colorado. I picked up a fifty-hertz electric plant, but it’s a quiet ship. Probably running sound nullifiers on its machinery and masker air around its hull. We only heard it because we were searching in that direction.”
“Weapons officer,” Brody said. “How much longer until I have to power down the weapon’s gyros to avoid overheat?”
“Eleven minutes, sir.”
“We remain at firing point procedures on the Colorado. If there’s any sign of counter-detection, we’ll shoot,” Brody said. “I’m taking the ship to periscope depth to identify the new contact. Raising number two scope.”
Through his periscope optics, Brody saw smoke rising from the Colorado, but it was the small vessel tied to it that attracted his interest. Its zigzag, hazy gray paint played tricks with his eyes. He also noticed the open missile hatches and men on the deck of the Colorado, and the warhead transfer became obvious.
“Executive officer, are we recording the scope optics?” he asked.
“Yes, Captain,” Parks said.
“Good, because I have no idea what class of ship that is, but you’re not going to believe what they’re doing. Can you load this image into a communications buoy?”