The infernal infestation of black steel insect-hulls filled the sea, consuming helpless prey that Jake discerned as the Kim, the Goliath, and the Specter. His bombs useless and his colleagues dead, he sought higher altitudes to escape the rising mound of buzzing metal darkness.
Unsure what weapons awaited him as he failed to outpace the cloud of countless killers, he sensed his inevitable doom. A demonic North Korean submarine would catch him, crush him, consume him, or somehow condemn him, no matter how fast or high he climbed.
Death grasped him, rolled him onto his back, and recited his doom. He heard the growing rhythmic chop of approaching submarine screws that sliced through a waterspout that crashed through him on the way to the stratosphere.
As he braced for his end, he reappeared on the ground, his pistol pointed at a captured crew of a North Korean submarine. Their arms bound behind them, they knelt in the dirt, staring at the earth in preparation for death.
A North Korean commando stood beside him.
“Kill them.”
“I’m one of them.”
“No, you didn’t run your submarine aground and sacrifice the mission. You’re better than them. Kill them.”
“I almost got my crew killed years ago. If it wasn’t for Henri that one time, I hate to think…”
Jake counted the crew. Eleven.
“What day is it?” he asked.
“September eighteenth. Kill them.”
“What year?”
“Nineteen ninety-six. Kill them.”
“They ran their Sango submarine aground off the coast of Gangnueng in enemy territory, didn’t they?”
“Yes, and they must pay. Kill them.”
“How can you judge them?”
“Somebody must. Kill them.”
“What about mercy?”
“You’ve exhausted your mercy. Kill them.”
“I’m not God. I’m not playing God.”
The commando dug the cold barrel of a pistol into Jake’s temple.
“You will, or I will. If not, then someone else. Their fate is sealed. Kill them.”
Jake leveled his weapon at the back of the nearest head, pulled the trigger, and waited for the recoil.
A loud thump rousted him from his sleep. He tasted a putrid mix of stale breath and fear as he twisted his torso and opened his eyes. Henri’s white hair cracked through the door.
“What is it?”
“Submerged contact.”
“I’ll be right there. Make sure Antoine gets a weapon ready.”
He rolled to the deck, walked to the sink, and tipped back a bottle of mouthwash. As he wiggled into the stinking, unwashed white dress shirt, he leaned over and spat. Then he trotted to the control room and stooped over Remy.
“How’d you beat me here, Antoine?”
“I told you. I hear everything. My body knew to wake up and come here.”
“What is it?”
“Submerged contact. Bearing three-four-nine. Range thirteen thousand yards. Drone one had active return, but it’s now in passive mode, as you ordered. All sonar systems are in passive mode. And we’re at five knots, as are the drones and the Goliath.”
“Tell me what you hear.”
The toad-head pointed its nose at the display, and Remy lifted his finger before pressing his muffs into his ears. Jake recognized his sonar guru’s command for silence and glared around the room to share his understanding. As men stopped breathing, he thought he heard heartbeats.
“From drone one, I hear a five-bladed screw.”
“Do you have blade rate?”
The finger went up again, and Jake bit his lip.
“I have blade rate. For a Sango class, the propeller speed correlates to nine knots.”
“Could it be a Yono, Sinpo, or something else?”
“No, it’s a Sango.”
“Whatever the heck it is, it’s too close and it’s making maximum speed. Designate the contact as Master Three. Do you have a weapon ready?”
“Tube one. Maximum transit speed. Ready to fire.”
“Jake!” Julien said.
“You just stopped me from launching. You better have a damned good reason.”
“Submerged contact, bearing either zero-two-one or one-eight-one on the towed array sonar. I hear a fifty-hertz tone.”
Jake felt a compulsion to shoot Master Three while analyzing the new contact, but he realized that making launch noises with a nearby submarine could be fatal.
“How do you know it’s submerged?” he asked.
“I don’t. I’m guessing. But I don’t hear any other noise, and anything from the North Korean surface fleet would be loud. Plus I don’t see any surface ships on the chart near here.”
“Surface ships move fast, and our data on the chart is stale,” Jake said. “But I’ll spot you this one. Designate the contact on the towed array as Master Four. Give Master Four a range of eight thousand yards, speed zero, and assign it to tube two.”
“Eight thousand yards?” Henri asked. “Dear God, Jake. That’s close enough for us to be heard, not to say that the Goliath is even more vulnerable.”
“There’s a skilled or lucky captain coming for us. Either way, it’s time for some old school submarining.”
“You mean target motion analysis?”
“Since the towed array sonar can’t tell its left from its right, I’ll turn and see if Master Four walks up or down the array. Then I’ll know which side he’s on.”
“And then what?”
“And then you’ll see some decisive shit,” Jake said. “Unfortunately, I think you’ll see it from both sides of this argument.”
CHAPTER 18
Jake glared at Remy’s display, waiting for the Subtics system to integrate the incoming sound. Having turned thirty degrees to the right to force an answer for Master Four’s location, he expected his sonar ace to disambiguate the bearing faster than the computer. But since he couldn’t stand in helpless silence, he had to watch the integrating algorithm make its attempt.
“Master Four is to the starboard,” Remy said.
“Very well,” Jake said “Get ready for simultaneous launch, Master Three and Master Four. I’m not making two sets of launch transients.”
“Tubes one and two are ready for Master Three and Master Four respectively,” Remy said.
“Shoot tubes one and two.”
“Tube one, normal launch,” Henri said. “Tube two, normal launch.”
“Very well, Henri, make turns for twenty knots. Come left to course two-eight-one.”
“Twenty knots, two-eight-one, aye. We will deplete our battery in eighteen minutes at this speed.”
“That’s enough time, Henri. Julien, bring the drones to ten knots, course two-eight-one. Don’t tell me that we’re going to overrun them. I already know that, and I’ll deal with it if it happens.”
Jake trotted to the conning platform and grabbed the microphone to hail Terry.
“Torpedo evasion. Speed twenty knots. Course two-eight-one. Torpedo evasion. Speed twenty knots. Course two-eight-one.”
“You know that you’re gifting a high bearing rate to the enemy crew,” Henri said. “If they can hear us, you’re making their targeting solution much easier. If they can’t hear us, you’re making sure they do with our speed.”
“I think we’re within four and a half miles of Master Four and that it’s all academic at this range.”
Cahill’s echoing voice reverberated through the water.
“Roger, torpedo evasion. Speed twenty knots. Course two-eight-one. I can sustain this speed for thirteen minutes. Over.”