As the dejected Julien sank into his seat, the same eagerness that had lifted him towards his console shifted to Noah. “Jake? The steer?”
“Noah, steer weapon three right eighty degrees.”
As he glared at the icon sliding back towards the limpets, Jake factored the American torpedo into his mental probability equation of recapturing the Goliath. The unwelcomed weapon begat a distracting and distressing futility.
Noah’s announcement brought him back to his final shot. “Influence field detection!”
“What?”
“Influence field detection!”
The second announcement cleared Jake’s mind. “Detonate! Detonate!”
“Detonating!”
“Come on. Attach to the damned engine room.”
“Yes! My bomblet is attached! Explosion! Flooding!”
“Is it the engine room?”
“I don’t know, but I hit a big compartment. Weapons bay, engine room, or MESMA six. It should be the engine room. We timed it correctly. I know we did.”
Jake wanted his expert’s opinion, but with the American weapon and submarine nearby, he let Remy focus on them.
Cahill reminded him of his need to play defense. “The American torpedo is four miles away.”
“Show it on the chart.”
The Australian returned to the central table and zoomed it out, causing a red icon to appear to the east. “This can’t end with an American torpedo. Me ship can’t go down like this. They’ll have to shut down their weapon when they see the Goliath surfacing.”
“If they see it surface, you mean. We don’t know which compartment we hit. Antoine?”
“I’m already listening. I hear everything.”
“Well?”
“Noah’s right. It’s a major compartment, but it’s impossible to tell which one. All machinery on the Goliath’s still running.”
At his control station, the French mechanic stood. “Jake, you must consider opening range from the Goliath to avoid damage from the American torpedo.”
“Damn it, you’re right, Henri. Come left to course two-six-zero.”
As the deck angled and rocked harder in the swells, Renard’s voice came from a loudspeaker. “Jake, contact Dmitry and have him retreat. There’s nothing left for him to do except avoid harm, and I have no low-bandwidth communications at my disposal.”
“Right, Pierre. Will do. Henri, use the underwater sonar communications suite to order Dmitry to course…” Jake looked at the chart and estimated the Wraith’s position before continuing. “… course two-four-zero. And tell him to make ten knots.”
The silver-haired Frenchman spoke into a microphone and then waited.
Moments later, the Russian translator’s accent passed through the room’s loudspeakers acknowledging the Wraith’s new course.
Then Noah stood and yelled. “The engine room is shutting down!”
The toad-head nodded. “Agreed. The Goliath is slowing! The propeller has stopped!”
A weight lifted from Jake’s shoulders. “Sweet! What about the American torpedo?”
“I still hear it running three miles away.”
“Why don’t they shut it down? Can’t they hear the Goliath stopping?”
Renard added the qualifier. “That wasn’t the agreement. The Goliath must also surface.”
“That’s only because we assumed it would surface. Apparently, they’re staying underwater and having a hard time debating amongst themselves how badly we’ve just beaten them.”
“I’ll make the phone call. Don’t do anything rash while I do.”
Jake looked to Henri. “Rash like what?”
“He knows you well, Jake. Perhaps he considers you capable of threatening the American submarine.”
“I don’t even have a shred of evidence where it is, other than its torpedo, do I Antoine?
The toad-head shook. “I can hear everything, but that applies only to things that make sounds, which excludes a drifting Virginia-class submarine.”
Henri continued his psychological analysis. “But Pierre knows you’d risk a salvo and hope to get lucky enough to have a weapon acquire.”
“Am I really that reckless?”
“You have been in the past.”
“You make me sound like a monster. I invented the damned slow-kill weapon to save lives.”
The silver-haired Frenchman shrugged. “Maybe you were a monster. I believe your inspiration for your slow-kill design was you compensating for the guilt of hurting people in the past with your uncontrolled anger.”
Cahill refocused Jake’s attention. “I hate to break up this therapy session, but we need to extricate ourselves from the kill zone of a possible heavyweight torpedo blast.”
“Henri, increase speed to ten knots.”
Eager for an update, Jake welcomed his boss’ voice.
Renard was enthusiastic. “Great news. The commander of the U.S. Fifth Fleet agreed to have the incoming weapon shut down. Please listen for it and let me know when it’s done.”
Nobody spoke for thirty seconds until Jake broke the silence. “It’s getting close and still running, Pierre.”
“The man assured me. All I can do is trust him.”
“Too damned close, Pierre. I’m going deep and sprinting the last minute, just to be sure.”
The toad-head spun. “Don’t bother, Jake. The American torpedo has just shut down.”
Inhaling a deep breath, Jake tried to let himself accept and enjoy the moment of victory, but something irked him. “That’s great, Antoine, but what’s going on with the Goliath? Going up? Staying on depth? Or God help us if it’s sinking.”
“Trim and drain pumps are working nonstop on both hulls. No sign of a depth change yet.”
“Then our damage was perfect. Its propulsion is gone, and the ship is completely salvageable.”
Cahill clarified a technicality. “Not all propulsion’s gone. Remember the outboards. That gives it a little over a knot. The local current runs west, which means it could still make Iranian waters while getting dragged towards Hormuz.”
Jake sought a way to stop the crippled giant from crawling, but his focus had been punching holes in its hull. Fearing another flooded compartment would destroy his prize, he changed his mode of thinking. “We need to find a way to tow it. And I mean grab hold of it tight and pull it wherever we want, whether it’s surfaced, submerged, or stuck somewhere in between. The Omani patrol craft can only handle the surfaced work. So that means we need to think about what we can do from the Specter.”
The room became quiet as men entertained thoughts, but the Australian appeared uncomfortable. As Jake wondered if Cahill struggled to generate a coherent concept or if he wrestled through his final internal objections to a clever idea, the Goliath’s proper commanding officer straightened his back and spoke confidently. “I’ve got it.”
“You’re sure?”
The Australian smiled. “Yeah, mate, I’m sure I’ve got it.”
“Okay, then. Go ahead.”
“We’ve got a big anchor and a strong chain. If the Goliath stays on depth, there’s just enough room for us to climb over it and lower the anchor a few meters below and next to the cargo bed. Then we drive away, and I’m sure the anchor would grab one of the crossbeams.”
Jake envisioned the maneuver and offered it silent applause. “I like it — a lot. It’s brilliant. Any objections?”