“Our torpedo is dormant,” he said.
CHAPTER 24
Jake swallowed a bite of his hamburger and leaned back in his chair. The wardroom swayed back and forth as the Specter rode the sea’s swells.
“We can get back to Mar Del Plata a lot faster than we got here since we can travel on the surface,” he said. “We’re not hiding from anyone anymore.”
“I’ve already done the math,” Henri said. “We can make two hours submerged at twenty knots, followed by four hours surfaced at thirteen knots while recharging the battery. Then repeat that pattern to average slightly more than fifteen knots, or three hundred and seventy miles a day.”
“Sounds like someone wants to get back to dry land,” Jake said.
“Mar Del Plata is eight hundred miles away,” Henri said. “Per my calculations, I’ll be drinking my first beer in two days and five hours.”
“The lucky bastards from the Ambush will be drinking tonight,” LaFontaine said.
Jake recalled the latest status report download.
A British swim team had reached the Dragon and had placed explosives on its propellers. They had then radioed their readiness to cripple the destroyer to their command, which in turn contacted the prime minister, who then shared the news with Senator Ramirez.
Unknown to President Gomez, Ramirez then contacted the skeletal crew of the Dragon. He gave them the choice to surrender the ship back to its rightful owners or to be stranded without propulsion with a dozen well-armed British commandos ready to storm the ship and, if that failed, to blow holes in its side. Given the added news about Gomez’s pending fall from power, Ramirez’s countrymen agreed to give back the Dragon.
Upon news of the Dragon’s loss, the impotency of the San Juan to challenge the British task force, and the British prime minister’s preference to deal with Ramirez, President Gomez had resigned his post as his nation’s leader. The temporary presidency fell to Senator Ramirez, and he began acting with the decisiveness and ambition of a young and capable man who intended to keep the job.
Ramirez had ordered the San Juan to surface and navigate to Port Stanley, where the Royal Navy would assist with the removal of its limpets while keeping its crew as guests in its barracks. Nobody called it an act of surrender, but the Ambush escorted the San Juan—from below and from behind with torpedoes ready in case the Argentine submarine deviated from the arrangement.
“I agree,” Jake said. “There will be drunken Ambush sailors before sunset.”
The statement left him envious. He wished he could drink away his pain that night, douse an inner anger that seemed to simmer interminably, and quiet the latest ghosts he had created.
After dinner, he had a call to Olivia patched to the privacy of his stateroom. He wanted to learn that his contributions had made a difference.
“I’m sure you read that Ramirez is formally in power now,” she said. “The odds are that he’ll keep the presidency in the emergency election.”
“That sounds good, I suppose. I’m not sure that I care about which politician is in power, but it sounds like you think highly of him.”
“I do. He’ll do a good job. It’s the right thing for the country.”
“Now you sound like a politician, all motherhood and apple pie, or whatever they say in Argentina.”
“I’m no politician, but I’ll be dealing with more of them at the next level. I’m practically assured a promotion to executive when I get back.”
“I’m glad your career is working out. Really. I mean it. You’ve been through some hard shit and you deserve it.”
“You just saved my career, Jake. But what the heck, you practically made it anyway. Other than my sex slave ring assignment, every marquis accomplishment I’ve had has your name stamped on it. I’m running out of ways to say thank you.”
Although he expected complete sobriety from the entire crew during the mission, he hadn’t declared the Specter an alcohol-free ship. He reached into his safe and withdrew a bottle of single malt scotch to quell a few demons.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You helped me earn my freedom, such as it is, which isn’t too bad at the moment. So we’ll just call it even.”
“Sure. Even it is.”
“So you’re sticking around Buenos Aires?”
“Yeah. I’m staying close to my source of information until this situation is resolved.”
“Sounds like you’re enamored with the young playboy president.”
“Consenting adults,” she said. “It’s professional now, but what’s wrong with mixing business and pleasure, and who isn’t attracted to power?”
“Still direct and honest about yourself, as always.”
“What do you expect from a trained psychologist?”
“A wedding invitation if you ever become Mrs. Argentina.”
“Deal.”
He poured whiskey into a porcelain coffee cup, savored its sweet aroma, and let its fiery taste fill his mouth before swallowing. Semi-consciously, he replenished the glass.
“So what’s going on with negotiations?” he asked.
“With the Dragon back in British control, the prime minister is holding back the task force while he meets with Ramirez at the bargaining table.”
“Really? Why? Did he become lazy all of a sudden?”
“No, it’s simple economics. He’s got submarines joining the Ambush and the Dragon. He has control of the sea and the sky, and Ramirez has ordered his troops to restrict themselves to the western main island. The prime minister has no need to spend that kind of money sending an armada seven thousand miles away.”
“Makes sense. Any idea how this is going to end?”
“If I believe Ramirez,” she said, “it will be about sixty-forty in his favor. But he could have embellished his side of the story to impress me. What’s important is that the issue of the Falklands ownership, the oil reserves, mineral reserves, fishing havens, and British military presence are all being discussed as one comprehensive agreement.”
He started to enjoy alcohol’s numbing euphoria.
“Sounds like Renard’s plan is working out after all, despite all the screw-ups.”
“If you’re Machiavellian about it, sure. But I don’t think he’ll share your optimism, though. He can be tough on himself. You should call him.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I miss you, Jake. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”
He doubted if he shared her sentiment, but he owed her an attempt at friendship.
“We have work to do if we’re going to become or remain friends. I’m not sure which it is, really. But I would like to stay in touch, at least once in a while. You know, I’d like to hear how you’re enjoying taking over the CIA and becoming the queen of Argentina.”
“Funny.”
“I know. See you later, Olivia.”
“Good bye, Jake. For now.”
He called his French mentor.
“Great to hear from you, my friend,” Renard said. “How goes the journey to Mar del Plata?”
“I’m getting lucky that the seas are relatively calm,” he said.
“Excellent. I imagine that you’ll have my submarine back in port in just over two days?”
“You got it. Your transport ship is still there, right?”
“Indeed. It will be there to transport the Specter anywhere in the world I wish to next take it.”
“Riding off into the sunset.”
“Yes, and I’ve been narrowing down the list of candidates for our next opportunity to work together,” Renard said. “I’ve found several of interest, but one in particular entices me.”