Instead of reading, he slipped headphones over his ears and pumped Christian rock music into his head. He tried doing push-ups to the Newsboys, but lyrics of praise and worship bounced off his angst. He switched to something angrier, selecting twenty-five-year old Soundgarden. While doing flutter kicks, he found himself in need of something older and darker, and he played forty-five-year-old Black Sabbath to indulge his rage.
After working himself into a quick exhaustion, he undressed and rolled into his rack. With frustration and sadness tormenting him, he expected to stare at the back of his eyelids, but sleep claimed him, and he slipped out of time.
Harsh knocking rousted him from his slumber.
“What?” he asked.
“You have to hear this,” Henri said.
“How long was I out?”
“You’ve been in your stateroom for about forty minutes.”
“It feels like longer, or shorter. I’m not sure which.”
“No matter. He launched a transmission buoy!”
“Who? Terry?”
“Yes! Renard just forwarded it. He’s alive. The Goliath is seaworthy. Damage is limited to the port bow section. He has propulsion, and he thinks he can make nine knots but doesn’t want to risk the speed and noise yet due to the damage.”
As awareness supplanted a forgotten dream, a surge of relief overcame Jake.
“So he’s okay? Terry’s okay?”
“For the moment.”
Then came realization and its subsequent anxiety.
“But he’s trapped, surrounded by a task force.”
“Unfortunately so.”
“I need to help him. We need to rescue him.”
Jake slid his feet to the deck and reached for his clothes.
“Agreed,” Henri said. “I’ve already spoken to Pierre about it, but he’s hesitant to let you.”
“Hesitant? Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”
“He wants you to talk to him in private. I’ve routed his feed to your stateroom.”
“Thanks.”
“We’re linked to him. I’ll leave you to it.”
Henri closed the door on his way out, leaving Jake with Cahill’s fate at his fingertips. Alone, he noticed the gentle rocking of his room, reminding him of the Specter’s shallow depth. He slid into his slacks, sat at his foldout table, and fired up his laptop.
The Frenchman’s face appeared with fresh color masking his fatigue.
“Can you hear me, Pierre?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“I have nothing to say,” Jake said. “I was hoping you’d have all the news.”
“Indeed, I do. Terry’s taken a hit from an air-dropped torpedo, but he’s still in fighting shape and able to move while submerged. The problem is that half the Hellenic fleet is surrounding him.”
“So him sneaking out without help would be tough?”
“Difficult, to say the least.”
“Then I need to get up there and escort him out.”
“Possibly,” Renard said. “But I suspect the Greeks have considered this.”
“What’s the supposed to mean?”
The Frenchman’s face darkened.
“It means that they likely left a wall of submarines between you and Terry. They’ve set up an ambush against you, betting that you’ve got the courage or arrogance to accept the challenge.”
“They know me well.”
“I suggest you take a longer look at the chart before you submit to such bravado. The natural choke points between the islands favor the Greeks. I’ve sent you my best estimate of the scenario and think you’ll find it revealing.”
“Sure, Pierre, I’ll take a look. I’ll reconnect with you from the control room.”
“Jake.”
“What?”
“Before you run off, I mean take a real hard look. The Greeks are licking their wounds and rethinking their approach with Terry, but I also suspect that they’re delaying their hunt of him for the very purpose of enticing you to save him. I suspect a trap. If you don’t think you can do this, consider that I have options available other than combat.”
“Options like what?”
“Just don’t plan on getting yourself killed for lack of alternatives. I’m a born negotiator, and there are always alternatives.”
Jake freshened up in his sink and then walked to the Specter’s central nerve compartment. He joined Henri at the navigation chart and leaned beside him.
Icons shaped like submarines dotted the few gaps between the smattering of islands that separated Jake from Cahill.
“He thinks six submarines are deployed?” he asked.
“It’s the best estimate,” Henri said. “Of the eleven Hellenic submarines, two are on distant patrols, two are undergoing refits, and one is tied to the pier with some apparent problem preventing it from deploying. That leaves six in the Aegean Sea that can stand between us and Terry.”
Ten years ago, Jake would’ve made a haughty comment about his superiority over Greek submarines, but his wiser version knew to respect his adversary. He assessed with caution.
“Are these positions just estimates, or is there any data behind them?”
“Just estimates,” Henri said. “But logical, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. Heavy bias towards the direct routes to Terry. They’re not going to make this easy.”
“No, they’re not.”
“Come on,” Jake said. “Let’s talk to Pierre.”
With the scenario memorized, he turned toward the elevated conning platform. Henri leaning beside him, he looked to the image of his boss on the display.
“What do you see, Jake?” Renard asked.
“I see a lot of hard work separating me from Terry.”
“How long do you think he can survive alone?”
“Shit, Pierre, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“I need your perspective.”
“It depends how brave the Greeks are. They must know enough about the Goliath to know that Terry can fight back against any attack they could mount. Nobody gets a free shot. Anyone who tries to take him down has to risk getting in range of at least one of his weapons.”
“Correct,” Renard said. “His port torpedo nest may be offline. He’s not sure yet. But he has at least three heavyweight torpedoes in his starboard nest. That holds the surface combatants at bay and forces the submarines to think twice.”
“Think twice enough that they’re all avoiding him to instead set up ambushes between me and him.”
Jake glanced over his shoulder at Henri for inspiration but received a dismissive shrug.
“Correct again,” Renard said. “To hunt Terry, they either commit a submarine or commit surface combatants with helicopter protection, but not both. The mix would create the risk of attacking a friendly asset.”
“Agreed. But I still haven’t answered your question. If the Greeks are scared, the standoff could last a long time. Days, if they’re super-cautious. Hours, if they force the issue.”
“Right. Remind you of anything?”
Jake recalled his latest sea brawl with the Russians.
“You’re not thinking about trying to declare it a standoff, are you?”
“It’s an option to consider.”
“I know it’s not my area of expertise, but your leverage is weaker than it was with the Russians. Terry’s in a worse position here than I was in the Black Sea.”
“How so?”
The Frenchman’s feigned interest in his opinion seemed patronizing, but Jake played along knowing his boss’ ego needed stroking to resolve the conversation.
“I had six torpedoes aimed at six ships with a chance to have reloaded and shot a couple more. He’s got three aimed at nothing.”
“Go on.”
“We never really hurt Russia when we attacked the lifelines to Crimea. In a way, we were doing the Russian mainland a favor by stopping its bleeding of resources into Crimea. But with Greece, we’ve attacked Greece and have hurt Greece. They have a right to be a lot angrier than the Russians were.”