“I can’t tell from passive bearings yet,” Remy said. “Jake, do you have anything from the drone?”
“From the drone, contact two has accelerated and turned towards our torpedo. No steer required, but I recommend slowing it and letting it begin its search.”
Renard gave the command, and the torpedo slowed. It picked up the Hamza on its first ping.
“Excellent,” Renard said. “But why would they run towards our weapon? It’s illogical. Is it suicide?”
A woman’s voice carried the answer.
“No,” Olivia said. “It’s not suicide. Not yet. From your best guess of the situation, he’s hit the carrier at its screws, but that’s not enough. That’s just a setup for the real thing.”
“How long have you been here?” Renard asked.
“I came in when I heard the explosion,” she said. “I just wanted to see—”
“If you insist on staying,” Renard said, “just keep out of the way.”
Jake caught glimpses of her slinky curves through baggy coveralls and understood why Renard had asked her to stay clear of the control room. Even while silent, she was distracting.
She crouched beside him.
“What do you have?” she asked.
Jake pointed at the monitor.
“I just figured out why he’s running at our weapon. The other submarine shot at him. The drone hears their torpedo, but the Hamza’s countermeasures have blanketed the sector and we can’t hear it from here. The active seeker is an American frequency.”
A puff of smoke appeared over Jake’s head.
“You’ve identified which contact is the American, then?” Renard asked.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “And their torpedo’s on target, too. The Hamza doesn’t have a chance.”
“But it can still strike,” Renard said. “Any sign of counterfire?”
“Still looking,” Jake said. “There’s a lot of noise.”
“No need to wait. I will evade toward the harbor in case they shoot back down the bearing of our weapon,” Renard said and stepped behind the periscope. “Henri, all ahead standard.”
“All ahead standard, aye, sir,” Henri said. “We have only thirty minutes left on the battery at that rate.”
“That’s enough,” Renard said.
Expecting a torpedo from the Hamza to appear, Jake stared at his monitor, but the drone heard nothing.
Then an inverted triangle appeared.
“What’s that?” Olivia asked.
In his earphones, Jake heard high-speed screws.
“Torpedo in the water!” he said. “There’s no active seeker. Just screws and flow noise. Antoine, back me up.”
Remy pressed the phones to his head and nodded.
“High speed screws,” Remy said. “It’s a torpedo. It seems to be running slow.”
“Forty knots,” Jake said. “I just got some active return on it. Probably to extend the range. It’s headed toward the carrier.”
“It’s nuclear,” Olivia said. “It’s got to be. That’s his final blow. This is his ultimate act of symbolism.”
Olivia leaned into Jake but said nothing. He felt her slip away and dart out of the operations room.
“All ahead flank!” Renard said.
Jake watched Henri nudge his throttle joystick forward as the control room fell silent.
“Pierre?” Jake asked. “What are you doing?”
“Plot a course to intercept the torpedo,” Renard said.
Jake turned to his monitor. The speed leaders from the Hamza’s torpedo reached out to that of the Hai Lang.”
His adrenaline spiking, Jake stepped to Renard.
Appearing resigned to his fate, Renard exhaled smoke and gave a cavalier grin.
“What, Jake?” he asked. “What else can we do? We fail if that weapon hits the carrier. Thousands will die instantly. Tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands will die in the fallout. We have no choice.”
A shock wave passed through the Hai Lang’s hull, followed by a deep rumble. Remy announced the obvious.
“Explosion and hull rupture. That was the Hamza,” he said. “It’s sinking.”
“And now we are all that stand between the destruction of that carrier and all of Pearl Harbor,” Renard said.
“Do you intend to just sacrifice us? There are other options,” Jake said.
“You’ve known me too long to think I will go down without a fight,” Renard said. “I have an idea, but tell me, just to be thorough, what is on your mind?”
In the minutes required to cut across the Hamza’s torpedo’s path, Renard outlined a plan with Jake. His eyes followed Jake as he marched back and forth behind the men seated at the Subtics monitors. His friend appeared fearless and in control.
My finest recruit, Renard thought. By far.
When he glanced at his monitor, he noticed the feed from the drone was gone. Flank speed had strained and snapped its guidance wire, but the drone had done its job with the Hamza and its weapons.
Four miles from the crippled carrier, the torpedo ran at its constant speed. The overhead view showed the Hai Lang a mile and a half ahead of the torpedo. Renard decided to turn his tail to the weapon and let it catch him.
“Henri,” he said. “Right ten-degrees rudder. Steer course zero-four-zero.”
The ship heeled over and steadied on course.
“We can’t hear anything,” Jake said. “We have to trust that we’ve resolved the torpedo’s course and speed.”
“I know,” Renard said, “but I don’t dare slow down. The weapon could overtake us. We must be between it and the carrier when its seeker activates.”
Renard watched the calculated distances shrink. Pointed at the carrier, his ship closed to within three miles of it. The Hamza’s torpedo was a mile behind him.
An electronic chime sounded. Although it signaled what he had hoped to discover, a pit formed in his stomach.
Jake reached, but the Taiwanese sailor seated before him had already silenced the alarm. The sailor, Ye, and Jake exchanged quick words.
“Active torpedo seeker,” Jake said. “Russian design. Probably from the Chinese arsenal.”
“Mon Dieu, Miss McDonald was correct. It is nuclear-tipped,” Renard said.
“Pierre? The turn?” Jake asked.
“Yes, of course,” Renard said. “Henri, right ten-degrees rudder, steady course three-four-five.”
The ship rolled and steadied, but the torpedo ran straight.
“The torpedo has failed to acquire,” Jake said.
“Left ten-degrees rudder, steer course zero-two-five,” Renard said. “We shall cross back in front of it.”
On a monitor near the captain’s chair, Renard saw the torpedo ignore the Hai Lang again.
“Recommend we come shallow,” Jake said.
“We are shallow,” Renard said. “Any more shallow and we’d need wings.”
“Surface the ship,” Jake said. “It’s an upward seeking weapon. It’s looking for a keel above itself.”
“We’d lose speed,” Renard said. “Our evasion will be at risk.”
Although having protested, he knew Jake was right. A mile and a half from the carrier, almost in the harbor himself, Renard made up his mind.
“Drive us to the surface, Henri” he said.
Renard held the polished rail that encircled the Hai Lang’s periscope as the ship angled upward. The submarine started to bob as it broached, and the angle leveled off. Restrained by the water’s surface tension, the ship’s speed fell from thirty-one knots to twenty-two.
The torpedo closed to within half a mile.
“Any closer,” Renard said, “and it won’t matter which ship takes the torpedo. Both will be lost. The deception maneuver must work now, or it shall never work. Henri, right full rudder.”