Cahill intensified his focus on Renard.
“The Italians were major supporters of this effort from the beginning, weren’t they?” he asked.
“I’m never going to reveal the details of any of my business arrangements, as a matter of protecting you from the information. However, I think it’s obvious that the Italians were involved deeply and early, given their commitment now to escort you.”
Reflecting upon the European Union countries struggling with debt management, Cahill identified a conflict.
“Italy’s suffering from a poor debt structure and economic performance, too. Why would they be so quick to help push Greece out of the EU? Isn’t that creating a bad precedence from the Italian perspective?”
“Not really. Think of Greece as a sacrificial anode instead of the first domino. Only one nation needed to be removed from the union to provide adequate relief. That removal, by the way, isn’t a guaranteed outcome, but it’s highly probable with the new sentiment I believe is rising in the Greek leadership and with the European reaction to it. Once it does happen, the stronger nations can shoulder the burden without having to oust other weak nations.”
“Got it,” Cahill said. “And I don’t know enough about such dealings to argue otherwise. It’s just good to know that me ally is really me ally.”
“After the independent hostile decision of the Greek submarine admiral, I shall take nothing for granted about my influence over your safety after such rapid shifts in government power. Thankfully, the Italians agreed to be your insurance policy covering you to French waters for a modest cost, and I’ll remember such insurance policies for our future egresses.”
Checking the tow lines between the Hydra and his starboard bow, Cahill looked ahead and saw long shadows stretching over the frigate’s wake. Though the Hellenic combatant had escaped without deaths, he knew the Greek aviators, tanker crews, and workers at the re-gasification terminal fared worse.
“Nobody’s asked yet,” he said. “So I will. How many lives did we take in this mission?”
He glanced at the monitors and saw faces looking downward. Jake remained silent as the Frenchman looked up and forced an answer.
“The last estimate is twenty-four,” Renard said. “A lot of the aircrews you shot down survived. It could have been much worse.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Imagine if we were stuck using heavyweight torpedoes. We’d be counting over a hundred.”
“Indeed,” Renard said. “The deaths are regrettable, but consider how many lives you have saved.”
“That’s the problem,” Cahill said. “I’m not seeing it. It’s too abstract.”
“We ousted a corrupt leader and established a new, better government. Think of the first twenty-four children who will be spared from death because they’ll receive proper medical care. It may not be today, tomorrow, or even a year from now, but you helped beget the necessary change to allow it. Then think of the first twenty-four elderly people spared by healthcare, or the first twenty-four citizens spared from death by squalor in slums, by traffic accidents averted by improved roads, or by riots averted by improved economic hope.”
“By putting a puppet in charge?”
The Frenchman’s face hardened.
“Yes, man. Don’t let the derogatory nature of the metaphor fool you. A puppet who agrees to being controlled by nations that have proven their fiscal responsibility to their people will fulfill his fiscal responsibility to his people.”
Jake waved his hand across the screen.
“Chill out, guys,” he said. “We go through this gut check every time. We all know it’s the right thing to do when we analyze it ahead of time, but when it finally happens, we feel sick and need to talk about it. It’s okay. We did the right thing.”
“You’ve been doing this a bit longer than me, mate,” Cahill said. “I need a few more missions to toughen me skin to it.”
“That’s right,” Renard said. “I even remember one of Jake’s so-called gut checks taking place on the Specter back when it was called the Hai Ming.”
Jake rolled his eyes.
“Oh shit, don’t remind me. Can’t we just let that die?”
“Not when you so cavalierly tried to placate us with platitudes and hand-waving. You created the opening in the conversation.”
“Is this the one where Pierre had to lead the submarine into battle by a telematics link because Jake didn’t feel like fighting that day?” Cahill asked.
“Come on, it wasn’t like that at all,” Jake said. “Pierre and I talked it through, and he told me to leave. I would’ve stayed if I was needed, and I even came back when I was.”
The Frenchman blushed.
“I did release you, indeed. It’s amusing, however, to entice your guilt about it because you make it so damned easy to do so.”
“Bite me.”
After a brief delay and a murmured translation that had become a background drone, Cahill heard a laugh from his loudspeaker. He looked to a third monitor at a man with a thick, graying beard that was trimmed short.
“I’d almost forgotten about you Dmitry,” he said. “I see you like the story about Jake.”
Cahill awaited the two-way translation while hearing the Wraith’s commanding officer respond in Russian.
“Dmitry says he will learn English if for no other reason than to hear the embarrassing stories you tell each other,” the Wraith’s English translator said.
“Great idea,” Cahill said. “When is the Wraith’s crew going to join us for our celebration?”
“I’ll answer that,” Renard said. “Tomorrow night.”
“But we’re days from Toulon,” Cahill said.
“I’ve decided that we deserve a vacation now,” Renard said. “I trust you’ll agree with a port call in Sicily?”
“Sure do, mate,” Cahill said. “I can’t argue with that.”
“Excellent,” Renard said. “I’ve already invited the wives of the crews. So I’d be in dire straits if you disagreed.”
Silence overtook the multi-way conversation while Cahill enjoyed daydreams of Italian food and drink. He assumed his colleagues entertained the same visions.
Shadows reached across from the frigate to the Goliath as his executive officer snatched him from his thoughts.
“We’re leaving Greek waters,” Walker said.
“Very well. Any word from the Hydra yet?”
“None. Shall I hail the commanding officer and request that lines be cast off?”
“No, not until the Alpino is within half a mile and ready to mate to us. Hail our Italian friends first.”
Cahill trusted Walker to handle the niceties and formalities of communication that surface warriors considered second nature but which managed to challenge submarine officers.
With nods and grunts, he gave Walker permission to let the Greek frigate cast off its lines and turn back to its home waters while having the Italian frigate take the Goliath as its towed cargo.
“The commanding officer of the Hydra didn’t even say ‘goodbye’,” Walker said.
“Some partings are so sweet they don’t need words.”
“Right, Terry. I think we’ve seen enough of each other.”
“Hey guys,” Jake said. “I don’t want to spoil the group hug, but there’s still some business we need to talk about.”