Выбрать главу

Jake looked back to the screen.

“Having to run outside to smoke.”

“Nonsense. I was using the facilities.”

“Then why do I smell nicotine on your breath?”

The Frenchman laughed through his nostrils.

“Funny. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to attack the LNG tanker that’s in transit from Cyprus to Revithoussa.”

“Always the daredevil,” Renard said. “It’s still forty nautical miles away from you, and Hellenic warships will be near you before you could get off a close-range shot.”

“But I’m not taking a close-range shot. I’ll hit it from seventeen miles away and evade long before anyone finds me.”

“Possibly, if the tanker maintains course and speed.”

“It will. They always do.”

Renard turned his face towards an off-screen monitor and then returned his gaze towards Jake.

“Apparently, it’s taking a direct route to Revithoussa. Interesting. The prime minister all but dares you to attack his tankers, yet he gives no instruction to have them drive defensively. Not the slightest hint of zigzag anti-submarine legs.”

“Makes my life easier,” Jake said.

“Aren’t you the slightest bit concerned about the legitimate threat? Half the Hellenic fleet is barreling down upon you.”

“We expected that.”

“Not this many ships,” Renard said. “Not this many helicopters. You even inspired fixed-wing maritime aircraft to pursue you. I fear for your safety if you attack this tanker.”

Jake checked his bravado and tapped his wisdom to grant himself a broader view of the danger.

“I’ve got a question,” he said. “Is there anything protecting the tanker?”

“I don’t see anything.”

“That’s foolish of them, don't you think?”

“I suspect the admiralty has advised the prime minister to use all available assets to hunt you, and I’ve got the best satellite and aerial radar coverage that the European Union can provide.”

Jake tasted the irony that the regime change he desired to impart upon Greece included nudging it out of the European Union.

“Seems like a stab in the back to the Greeks, using assets against them that are technically allied with them.”

“It is,” Renard said. “And for good reason, because it is one enormous stab in the back, which is the mission you seem to struggle to accept. Stay focused.”

“I am focused. So you think the tanker is a free shot, albeit a difficult one?”

“Free? Hardly. Though it has no escort of its own, you’ll have to commit to getting within the reach of Greek helicopters to complete your attack. I have half a mind to forbid you.”

“But half a mind to consider me a coward if I don’t.”

“You’re no coward.”

“But I know how you think. You see this as a calculated risk in our favor that boosts the odds of our mission’s success, and you believe I’m charmed enough to still be invulnerable.”

“Indeed. Do you still feel charmed?”

Jake halted his tactical mind and allotted a moment to assess himself. His emotional state was stable, and his body felt strong.

He reflected upon a new central focus in his life — Jesus Christ — but his mind served as a prison for the connection with his savior. Mental machinations had stymied the relationship Christians suggested would form with the central person of the religion, and Jake lacked any real-world experiential benefit from his new beliefs.

His mind believed, his heart resisted, and any charm he’d once enjoyed by self-aggrandizement had lapsed while he wrestled with the selflessness of his adopted doctrine.

If arrogance had once been his strength, his efforts towards humility left him groping for new ground.

“Shit, Pierre. I have no idea. I just know I can get it done.”

“So be it, my friend,” Renard said. “Prove the prime minister a fool and sink one more of his tankers.”

“I need to go deep to do it.”

“I’ll contact you on low-frequency if I must. Make me proud.”

Jake nodded and then lowered the periscope.

“Henri,” he said, “take us to fifty meters.”

The deck dipped and then leveled.

“Steady at fifty meters,” Henri said.

“Very well,” Jake said. “Empty tubes three, four, and five and reload with Sidewinders.”

Thirty minutes later, Jake stood by the central plotting table, sensing opportunity and risk.

“We’re within launch range,” he said.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Henri asked.

“This is the big one. It’s Greek flagged, it started its journey in Greek Cyprus, and it’s on its way to the Revythousa re-gasification terminal in Greece. No Iranian involvement. Just Greece, Greece, and Greece to get the message across to the Greek prime minister. We have to.”

“Tube one is ready,” Remy said.

“Presets?”

“Slow speed run to maximize range. Anti-surface mode. Active seeker.”

“Very well. Shoot tube one.”

The soft whine and pressure change hit Jake’s ears.

“Tube one indicates normal launch,” Remy said. “I have wire control. I hear its propeller.”

“How long is the expected run?”

“Twenty-three minutes,” Remy said.

“Shall we cut the wire and evade?” Henri asked.

Jake raised his finger to pause the conversation while he studied the chart. Icons shifted with the slow data feed from Renard’s intelligence sources. With an armada approaching, he understood Henri’s concern. Self-preservation dictated he should turn and flee.

But he noticed dense shipping near his targeted liquefied natural gas tanker, and prudence dictated he should stay put to assure he could guide an accurate shot.

“Not yet. There’s too much shipping around the tanker. Our torpedo could hit any one of them.”

“A small mistake to risk in exchange for assuring our survival by evading now.”

“We don’t need to evade. And it would be a huge mistake. Imagine the prime minister’s gloating if he scares us into sinking the wrong ship.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jake dared to hope his attack would succeed unimpeded.

Then Remy’s toad-head rolled down, and the sonar guru’s hands clasped his earpieces.

“Helicopter,” Remy said.

“How close?”

“Medium range. Fifty percent chance of detecting us.”

“Are you shitting me?” Jake asked. “Just like that? No warning?”

“Helicopters can get lucky and start new searches near us.”

“Then we can get lucky and not be heard.”

“Would you like to cut the wire now?” Henri asked.

“No.”

“Then how about shooting down that accursed helicopter?”

“And give away our position? Be patient, my friend. Remember your nerves of steel.”

“I’m getting too old for this,” Henri said.

“That’s no excuse. You were too old for this when I met you. A man your age should be running out of breath playing with his grandkids.”

“Well, I’m instead underwater with you running out of breath worrying about dying.”

Jake twisted his neck to lock eyes with the Frenchman. Reading his friend’s face, he said nothing.

“What?” Henri asked.

“Is there anything else you’d rather be doing than this while you die?”

A smile broke out on Henri’s face.

“No,” he said. “I imagine not.”

“The helicopter’s gone,” Remy said. “But I hear another one, farther away, different frequency.”

“Shit,” Jake said. “This could get ugly.”

“Depends where the first helicopter repositions,” Henri said.

“How long until our weapon hits?” Jake asked.

He watched his sonar expert lower his toad-shaped head towards his Subtics station.