A glimmer caught his eye, and he looked down. Holes bored low in the compartment suggested that Renard had allowed for flooding and draining of the space if the ship submerged. Reaching the far side, he passed through the starboard door and found it a replica of the port side.
He returned to the priest’s side.
“Spartan but functional,” he said.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
He admired a final panorama of the empty seas and then led the clergyman down a ladder.
The Specter felt familiar as memory guided his walk to the control room. He passed through a doorway and positioned himself behind the shiny railing of the elevated conning platform.
The metal casing that housed the consoles and monitors of the Subtics tactical system shone with the polish that Renard had paid the Taiwanese maintenance crew to administer.
Key familiar faces greeted him. To his left, before one of six dual-stacked Subtics panels, sat his sonar systems expert, Antoine Remy. To his right, seated in front of panels and gauges that controlled the ship’s skeletal and cardiovascular systems, the white-haired, sharp-featured Henri Lanier epitomized dignity in stature, appearance, and knowledge of any moving part of a submarine.
A few younger French-trained mercenaries, familiar from past missions spanning from the recapture of an Israeli submarine to the undersea rescue of a stranded South Korean vessel, sat by consoles.
“Reunited once again,” Henri said.
Before Jake could answer, the Frenchman crossed the deck, grabbed his shoulders, and kissed the air beside his jaw. Then Remy, his toad-like head appearing oversized for his body, joined Henri.
“It’s good to see you, Jake,” Remy said.
The younger sailors then greeted their commander.
“It’s great to see you guys,” Jake said. “Is anyone else feeling creepy about this fake ship around us?”
“I think we’re all still getting used to it,” Henri said. “But I must admit that I’m more concerned about your new friend, whom you have failed to introduce.”
“Sorry,” Jake said. “Father Andrew Seba, from the Saint Thomas Chaldean Church of West Bloomfield, Michigan.”
“A priest?”
“Pierre didn’t tell you?”
“No,” Henri said. “And quite frankly, it’s odd. An unannounced guest is a first, and so is a priest. The combination of the two novelties is alarming.”
“Many ships carry chaplains,” Jake said.
“Ours never have.”
“I wanted him here to make sure I did the right thing.”
Henri glared at him, and Jake found the silence uncomfortable until the Frenchman’s face relaxed.
“I understand,” Henri said. “May we speak in private?”
“Of course. But have someone show Father Andrew to his berthing area. He’ll be bunking with me in the commanding officer’s stateroom.”
“If you insist,” Henri said. “But I also invite him to bunk with me. It’s only proper that a special guest ride with the executive officer. Shame on me if I were to violate etiquette.”
“Thanks, but I want him with me.”
In the wardroom, Jake sat opposite Henri.
“I guess I should have warned you I was bringing him, but it was a spur of the moment decision. I can’t believe Pierre didn’t tell you.”
“Pierre is wise. Perhaps he meant for the surprise to spur this very conversation.”
“Possibly. What’s on your mind?”
“I think I understand why you brought him, but I didn’t want to say it in front of the others. “
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“You want him to prevent another rampage like the one you inflicted during our sprint out of North Korean waters.”
Jake admired that Henri’s habitual laser-guided insight reduced the priest’s presence to its simplest element.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It may be more complex than just that, but you’re spot on with that example.”
“As your friend, I cannot reiterate enough how concerned I was about that rampage. It was frightening to live through it.”
“I know. But it’s been over for months now.”
“You’ll need your priest in the control room frequently, if he is to make a difference. Are you sure he can handle the stress?”
“He did a six-month tour in Kurdish territory tending to displaced Iraqis around the clock. This will be easy for him in comparison.”
Seeming appeased with the explanation, the Frenchman leaned back in his seat.
“On to business, then,” Jake said. “We’re in protected waters until we reach the hydrophone array on the Philippine side south of Taiwan. I’m going to use the transit time to get some sleep.”
“You look like you were up all night like the rest of us. I’ll set a watch section so that we can all get some rest.”
“Okay, have someone wake me when we’re twenty miles from the hydrophone line.”
Noise from his stateroom door rousted Jake from his slumber. The enthusiastic beating of palms against the door annoyed him.
“That’s enough. You can stop now.”
“Where would be the fun in that, mate?” Cahill said.
“How the hell’d you get on my ship?”
“There’s a walkway mounted between two of the temporary weapons tubes. I can extend it to your ship and visit whenever I want, as long as you’re in me cargo bed.”
“No shit?”
“No shit. What’s this I hear about you bringing a priest with you? It gives me the willies.”
Jake looked to the empty rack below his. Seeing no sign of Andrew, he rolled to the deck and talked while relieving himself in the toilet. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cahill sit at his desk.
“I thought he’d be sleeping now.”
“No, mate. He’s up and about exploring the ship. I assume he’s never been on a submarine.”
“Probably not. But I didn’t ask him if he’s been underwater before. I just wanted him here.”
“But in God’s name, why?”
Jake moved to the sink and washed his hands.
“In God’s name, just because.”
“Perhaps you consider him a good luck charm?”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.”
“Bullshit. You’re our good luck charm. At least that’s what Pierre would have me believe.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“Because you’re not giving me an answer.”
Jake lifted a tablet from the table beside Cahill’s arm and glanced at the Goliath-Specter tandem’s place in the seas. It approached the hydrophone line that marked the boundary of his Taiwanese protection from submerged threats.
He stepped towards the shower as he yanked off his tee-shirt and dropped his underwear to the deck. Aiming his bare buttocks at Cahill for effect, he ended the query.
“I’ve given you the best answer I can. Stop prying.”
“I can take a hint, mate. You didn’t need to show me your bare hairy arse to make the point.”
Jake allowed himself a full-water shower. The warmth energized him. When finished, he stepped into his stateroom and found the air cool as he reached for a towel.
Cahill had vanished.
Dressed, he reached the control room and found his Australian colleague seated in the captain’s chair.
“Just keeping it warm for you.”
“Thanks.”
As Jake sat, the Goliath’s commanding officer faced him while leaning his lower back into the railing.
“We’ll have radar support from aircraft most of the way,” Cahill said. “But time to blend in now.”
Jake glanced at the display on a console.