“Of course, sir.”
“I mean are you nervous?”
The officer lowered and clasped his hands.
“My courage will stand the test, as will that of my crew.”
“I’m sure,” Floros said. “I wanted to make sure you were aware enough of your situation to know that you needed your courage. Otherwise, I would be concerned.”
“Well, sir, we extended our Aegean Sea national boundary to twelve miles, which Turkey said would be considered an act of war. We’ve sneaked in an oil rig beyond the old boundary of Lesbos and into our newly declared boundary to emphasize our commitment. They’ve seen it, and something hostile must be coming our way, but all we can do is wait.”
“Yes, commander, we wait.”
The Hydra’s commanding officer grunted.
“This is the worst part of a military operation.”
“Indeed,” Floros said. “Waiting makes you think about everything that can go wrong, despite thorough preparations.”
“Forget I brought it up, sir. Neither of us can afford to overthink things, or we’ll go mad.”
“This operation’s well planned.”
“It was, sir, before that liquefied natural gas tanker was blown up last week in the Arabian Sea. Since then the widespread panic about our energy sources makes us look vulnerable. It makes this rig look vulnerable.”
“Perhaps,” Floros said. “But one random act of terrorism limited to international waters can also be forgotten. Let it slip into the past while we focus on our present.”
“Haven’t you been following the financial markets? The pundits are blaming the attack for the downward spike.”
“I have no concern for such news.”
“I’m just trying to talk about something other than what the Turks might do next.”
The phone beside Floros chirped, and he lifted it to hear his boss.
“The Turks have rejected our declaration of the twelve-mile boundary,” the vice admiral said. “They will not honor it, and they’re protesting our deployment of the oil rig in waters to which they believe they have joint rights.”
“That’s expected, sir,” Floros said.
“The only good news is that NATO forces at Izmir won’t interfere. NATO has agreed to view this as a bilateral affair between us and our neighbors.”
“That’s good to know, sir. Also, it’s expected.”
“Regardless, be on your guard. Despite our good relations over recent years, the Turks can’t ignore this. They’ll have to make a show of strength — somehow.”
His boss signed off, and Floros returned the phone to its cradle.
Uneventful minutes passed, and he teased himself with hope that the Turks would remain silent.
Then, the helicopter reported two air contacts accelerating to supersonic speeds.
“They’re heading right towards us, sir,” the Hydra’s commander said. “Two F-16 Fighting Falcons. We detect their search and fire control radars now, too.”
“Very well,” Floros said. “Let them come right for us. That’s why we’re the closest ship to the Turkish coast.”
“I request permission to energize the task force’s radar systems.”
“Not yet. Hail them and warn them their flight path shows them flying over Greek airspace without permission and threatening a Hellenic combatant vessel.”
Floros overheard the translator speaking into a radio. After several attempts, a Turkish retort came.
“They say they’re flying in international airspace,” the translator said.
“Warn them again,” Floros said. “Refer to today’s proclamation and state that we consider their flying in our national airspace a hostile act.”
The translator obeyed, but the Turkish pilots ignored him.
“Very well,” Floros said. “From here on, we speak with our ship.”
“May I energize the task force’s radars?” the Hydra’s commander asked.
“How far away are they?”
“Nineteen nautical miles. Our lookout just spotted them.”
“Not yet. At ten miles, energize your Phalanx point defense systems and your point defense systems only. Hold your fire until I say otherwise.”
“Fifteen miles, sir. Low and fast.”
“You know what to do at ten miles.”
The Hydra’s commander nodded and then raised a microphone to his mouth.
“Ten miles,” he said. “Energize Phalanx systems!”
“They’re not turning away, are they?” Floros asked.
“No, sir. I request permission to energize all radars and weapons systems.”
“Not yet. Light them up at one mile.”
“That will be hardly less than five seconds before they overfly us.”
“I know.”
“Five miles,” the commander said. “Four miles. Three miles.”
Floros slid his shoes to the deck plates and glared through the bridge windows. He saw the sun reflecting off the incoming cockpits.
“Two miles,” the commander said. “One mile. Energize all radars and weapon systems!”
Three seconds later, the pilots veered away, and the sonic boom shook the windows.
“That did it, sir. We called their bluff.”
“Their first bluff was a quick reaction to test our mettle,” Floros said. “But we need the oil under that rig, and the Turks know it. They’ll be back, and they’ll come with something more than a bluff next time.”
CHAPTER 4
Jake Slate raised his head and pressed his palms into the navigation table. As he mustered the mettle to play God, he surprised himself by wondering how his newest teammate, Dmitry Volkov, had fared in his earlier, similar situation.
“How long until our weapon hits?” he asked in English.
“What? Almost thirteen minutes, Antoine?” Henri asked.
Seated at the Subtics station, Antoine Remy, Jake’s sonar operator, nodded his toad-shaped head. At the Specter’s control station, the silver-haired Henri Lanier shrugged.
“Twelve minutes, Jake,” he said. “The data’s right there on the display for you.”
“Heck, I know where to see the data,” Jake said. “I just wanted to say and hear the words out loud. This doesn’t feel right.”
“Trust the plan,” Henri said.
“It’s vandalism all over again,” Jake said. “Just like our last mission. I’m afraid Pierre’s turned us into nothing more than hired guns.”
“That’s all we’ve ever been. The shame is yours if you think more highly of yourself.”
As of a week ago, Jake considered himself a fledgling Christian. Humility was a requisite virtue in his new belief system, and he expected to struggle. He lowered and shook his head.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “I joined Pierre twelve years ago because I was desperate. But I stayed with him and you guys because we were doing the right things. We were fighting just wars, stopping terrorists, and even doing rescue missions.”
“That’s our legacy, Jake,” Henri said. “It always will be.”
“But three months ago, he had us blowing up the links between Russia and Crimea, and now he’s got us blowing up natural gas heading to Greece. What happened to fighting the bad guys? Now we are the bad guys.”
“No, Jake,” Henri said. “The governments of those whom we strike are the bad guys.”
“Then why aren’t the governments who pay us doing this themselves?”
He knew the answer but wanted the comfort of Henri saying it. The elder Frenchman’s counsel soothed his nerves.
“Germany, France, and Italy cannot risk overtly attacking Greece, but they can pay us to do it and force them out of the European Union.”
“But if it doesn’t work, then we’re just vandals.”
“If it doesn’t work, it’s not our fault. It will be the fault of diplomats who made erroneous predictions and movements.”