He rejected good luck as a valid tactic, but a tiny spark of optimism made him hope for pending victory as his rocket reached the would-be Specter’s hull.
“The Shkval is within detection range of the target,” the sonar operator said. “I hear the terminal guidance sonar.”
“Very well.”
Seconds ticked away without a hit.
“The weapon isn’t veering toward the target,” the sonar operator said. “It’s not picking it up.”
“Let it run its course,” Volkov said.
“The weapon should now be passing the location of the Specter,” the sonar operator said.
“Very well. Do you hear any evidence of the Specter attempting to evade our weapon?”
“No, sir. Nothing.”
“So be it,” Volkov said. “I’ve determined that the target is not the Specter but a decoy. I want you to keep tracking the decoy to verify this conclusion.”
“Of course, sir,” the sonar operator said.
“We’ve been drawn to this decoy and duped into shooting a weapon at it,” Volkov said. “I conclude that the Specter’s captain wanted me to head north towards his minefield and to attack his decoy. I still see no rationale for this, but the reasoning behind whatever trick he’s playing lies in a different direction.”
He looked at the tactical chart showing the Krasnodar driving away from the line drawn by his Shkval.
“I’m going to keep us submerged and hidden while this puzzle unfolds,” he said.
“It’s difficult to hunt our enemy while limited to four knots, sir,” the executive officer said. “While we’re deep, we’re also limited in what the fleet can share with us.”
“The fleet will hail us to come shallow if there’s something worth sharing.”
“Agreed, sir, but we’ve also exhausted half of our allotted time to hunt the Specter. We’re racing the clock.”
“I know,” Volkov said. “But we have several assets that can search the waters faster than our own ship.”
“You mean to deploy drones.”
“Three of them. I want one sent to the northeast, one to the southeast, and one to the southwest.”
“I see your vision now, sir. If we’re close enough to find and engage the Specter before we run out of time, then we’re close enough to use drones.”
“Yes, and we’re also going to have another asset working on our behalf.”
On cue, the trainer looked to Volkov.
“Where to, sir?”
“Send the dolphins towards Amarsa, Turkey, right back down the track of the Specter. If its captain has gone out of his way to make me think he traveled north, let the dolphins see if he fled in the complete opposite direction.”
CHAPTER 19
A strange thought danced in Cahill’s mind.
The dolphins that had inundated his bridge had also nudged him closer to his submariner’s nature. Operating submerged and encased in steel suited him. Despite them being his enemy, he found it impossible to hold a grudge against animals that the Russians had turned into warriors against him.
Since the deviations from a standard Scorpène submarine’s control room deprived him of an elevated conning platform, he stood in the room’s center and pressed his palms into the tactical table. A downward scan confirmed the history of the Kilo having veered north after Jake, giving the Goliath time to outpace its prey’s westerly advance.
The aging data also showed the Russian surface fleet remaining disengaged while the Specter transited south in hopes of enticing the wounded submarine to follow.
“It’s been an hour since our last update,” he said. “By now I’m only guessing where that Kilo is. Slow to three knots and take us shallow for an update.”
“Slowing to three knots and coming to periscope depth,” Walker said.
The deck angled as the Goliath’s momentum became an upward glide. With the ship slow at periscope depth, Walker raised the periscope, grabbed a visual sweep, and then lowered the optics. Cahill found the waters north of the heavier Turkish coastal traffic unpopulated.
“There are no close contacts,” he said. “Raise the radio mast and download the broadcast from the satellite.”
With the masts mounted in the rear of his ship, he heard distant echoes of the hydraulic valves clicking to raise his antenna above the waves. The deck rose in a rogue swell and then steadied into a rhythmic rocking during the download.
He looked to his sonar supervisor.
“See what new contacts you can find while we’re slow and shallow.”
“We are. We passed an acoustic layer on the way up, and we’re hearing a bunch of surfaced contacts we couldn’t hear below the layer.”
“Anything unusual or alarming?”
“Not that we notice. Most of it’s to the south, near the coast, as you’d expect. There are a few contacts in shipping lanes, but nothing sounds like a warship or a shallow submarine.”
“Analyze what you can while we’re up here, which won’t be long,” Cahill said.
“We’ve got the download,” Walker said.
“Make your depth fifty meters. All ahead standard, make turns for fourteen knots.”
Free of the Specter’s drag, Cahill felt comfortable coaxing the Goliath to sustain the extra knot submerged.
Keeping fourteen knots pulled electrons from his undersized batteries, and he honored the inefficiency of a double conversion from direct current, to alternating current, and back to direct current required to account for the small numbers of cells. But with his MESMA units shouldering the overwhelming majority of the burden, he expected that he could hold the speed for days.
The world tilted downward as icons shifted around the plot.
“Nothing from Pierre other than the tactical update?”
“Nothing,” Walker said.
“The tactical update will have to do, then. It looks like the Kilo took the bait and attacked Jake’s drone.”
“That’s expected. Our sonar team heard that fake transient noise from here. It was practically impossible to tell the difference between the drone’s recording and the sound of real metal.”
“That was all according to plan,” Cahill said.
“But then the Kilo didn’t stay at snorkel depth,” Walker said. “It was last seen going under, and our satellite has no sign of it for the last half hour. That’s a concern.”
“You’re still thinking like a surface warrior. I concede that it’s now harder to find, but it’s stuck at four knots, and we know it’s running its trim and drain pumps to get rid of its water. Our sonar team will hear it.”
“If it’s indeed heading after Jake.”
Cahill noted the Specter’s location on the plot.
“It is. Jake’s dead in the water with two masts exposed while charging his batteries. The Russians will find him.”
“Maybe you’re right, Terry. Maybe I still underestimate what we can do underwater. I notice that the four-knot speed limit guarantees that we’ll be ahead of the Kilo. We’ll get to Jake before it does.”
“Let me set the course,” Cahill said.
He tapped an icon that showed him the direction to travel to reach Jake’s submarine.
“Left standard rudder, steer course two-six-one.”
An hour later, he ordered the Goliath shallow for another update. Renard had remained silent, other than his tactical feed, which lacked information on the Kilo but showed the need for a modest course correction to reach Jake.