“Pace yourself,” Renard said. “It’s a long way to the submarine pen.”
“Slow is good. Me thighs are burning already.”
“We shall take our time and rest as needed.”
Five minutes later, Cahill slowed and lowered his knees to the rocky floor.
“Pierre.”
“Yes, of course. We shall rest for a moment.”
Fifteen minutes later, Cahill rose from his third stop, and his next steps revealed metal plates blocking his view of the leveling ground.
“What’s that metal all about?”
“It’s a design based upon the South Koreans’ treatment of infiltration tunnels in the demilitarized zone. The barriers force a zigzagging path to slow assailants.”
After wiggling through the plates, Cahill watched Renard punch a code into a console by a steel door. His French boss shouldered the door open to reveal a control room no bigger than a suburban living room.
He entered and latched the door behind him. Windows at the far wall revealed a cave hewn by nature, with fingers of stalactites, expanded and reshaped by explosives.
Halogen lights bathed a concrete dock beside which rose a black conning tower. He recognized the Specter, the Scorpène-class submarine like the one he had helped Renard steal from the Malaysian Navy. The sight triggered his memory of commanding the Australian submarine, Rankin, to bring the Wraith into Jake Slate’s trap.
He pointed at the submarine.
“What’s all that?” he asked.
“I assume you mean the mine belts strapped to the Specter. They’re staggered laterally to avoid interfering with the hydraulic rams that hold the ship within the Goliath’s bed.”
“I was afraid you’d say that. I don’t envy meself or Jake carrying mine belts.”
“They’re completely safe. Mine laying is normal operations for the submarines of many navies. They’re also positively buoyant, which means Jake can deploy them while in your cargo bed.”
“I still don’t like it, mate.
“You need them. You’ll have the entirety of the Russian Black Sea Fleet pursuing you during your escape. You’ll want Jake to leave a trail of speed bumps, so to speak.”
“Speed bumps? More like Armageddon.”
“They’re all set to low yields. I’m in business to protect my assets and deter you being chased, but I don’t need to crack the keel of every ship that pursues you. That would create angrier lifelong enemies.”
The former Australian submarine commander had never deployed mines, and they worried him.
“Still, we’re talking about blowing big holes in ships. Men will die, and smaller ships may be lost.”
“Only if your pursuers are brave or foolish enough to chase you through your minefields. I expect instead that after the first mine detonates under a Russian ship, the rest will honor the coordinates of the minefield I will announce.”
“You’ll announce it? How? You may not know where we are or where we’ve laid the mines.”
“I’ll make a conservative estimate and invite the Russians to skirt the outer edge. At the very least, I will have done my duty by announcing the hazard to all vessels. Jake will set the mines to disarm within twenty-four hours of deployment, which will give you more than enough time to reach the Bosporus while keeping my reputation clean of minimizing unnecessary damage.”
Cahill decided to digest the need and future use of the mines during the long transit to the operations area, and he let his gaze shift down the dock to the larger vessel — the one he commanded.
Like an enormous catamaran, the Goliath and its rakish bows extended toward the cavern’s walls. The illuminated domed bridge on the transport ship’s starboard hull cast checkered radiance against the hewn ceiling. The forward sections, produced for Taiwanese frigates, appeared capable of slicing waves.
The sterns of the Goliath’s tapered upwards towards fantails to allow for elevated surface-combat weaponry. He recognized the railguns and the radar system’s panels on each raised aft section.
Submerged cylinders of equal girth to the Specter connected the customized bows and sterns of each hull. Fuel lines reached from the subterranean pier to the Goliath’s black arcs jutting above the still water.
He felt proud ownership as he remembered being the ship’s solitary occupant when a North Korean torpedo had transformed the Goliath’s port bow into twisted shards.
“Hardly looks like it’s been scratched,” he said.
“Repairs have been complete for some time,” Renard said. “But I did have to pay overtime for the structural tests to get them completed before the latest modifications.”
“Latest mods? I thought you had all the mods being worked in parallel with repairs.”
“Most but not all. The latest modifications are customizations for the immediate mission.”
“What more could I need? You’re already giving me all the goodies I asked for.”
Cahill ran through his mental checklist. He had demanded and received a Phalanx close-in weapon system to replace his near-impotent laser cannon, a network of blue-green laser transceivers to give him secure communications with the Specter, and an anti-torpedo weapon system.
“After my latest audience with Miss McDonald, I’ve taken some liberties. When I explain the full mission, you’ll understand.”
“It’s still Miss McDonald? Not Misses Argentina?”
“The tabloids say she’s engaged, but my intelligence network says the marriage will wait until her promotion to the DCIA.”
“Call me romantic, but doesn’t love matter?”
“Not with her.”
“She’s driven only by power, is she?”
“Right. And based upon our latest audience, I believe that she finally needs us more than we need her.”
“Why so, mate?”
“She needs a navy to stand up to Russia while offering her plausible denial of America’s involvement. That’s us, my friend.”
“Maybe being kicked out of the Aussie Navy wasn’t such a bad deal after all. I get more confident that I’ve joined a winning team each time you describe it.”
“As it should be.”
“I know where we’re going and that we’re going to attack static targets, but what are the targets?”
“I can tell you now. The primary target is a bridge. The secondary is a shallow undersea pipeline.”
Cahill envisioned the possibilities.
“I’m not sure where to begin asking me next questions.”
“The targets connect Russia to the Crimean Peninsula. You’re going to exploit Crimea’s dependence upon mainland Russia. Most commerce runs through the bridge, including rail, auto, fossil fuels, and utilities.”
“Got it. You also said I’m taking out an undersea pipeline. But you’re also suggesting that there are pipelines on the bridge.”
“Yes. The pipelines on the bridge deliver fuel and utilities. The undersea pipeline preceded the bridge in construction, but it remains an important secondary means of supply. If you take out both targets, you’ll beget Crimea’s decay by atrophy.”
Trying to remember his knowledge of the former Ukrainian landmass, he imagined the implications of his mission.
“The best I can tell, you’re having me ruin a tourist destination. I’m not seeing the big picture.”
“Try to see it from the Russian perspective. You want to be a superpower, and you grab a jewel from your neighbor to demonstrate your might. When nobody stops you, you’ve proven that you are a superpower. China did nothing. Europe did nothing. America did nothing. Ergo, you’ve made your political statement. But Crimea is starving for resources, and it must be fed.”