Renard called her.
“Yeah, Pierre. What did he find?”
“There’s nothing authorized that Admiral Khan’s channels could uncover. In fact, the local general is furious and wants to take custody of the men and place them on trial for treason.”
The concept flushed the final vestiges of worry from her. A local and official imprisonment would relieve her of all responsibility but give her access to the information. After her next phone call, she expected the Pakistan CIA station chief would use backchannels to negotiate leniency for some of the prisoners, in exchange for their providing intelligence about their intent with the Goliath and their involvement with the Iranians. “Perfect.”
“I thought you might appreciate the outcome, young lady. It looks like we’ve averted disaster and found a positive outcome.”
“Yeah. But what about the Goliath? Isn’t it supposed to get a bunch of nasty holes in it soon?”
“I trust not. If Terry can prove that he’s still charmed.”
Terry Cahill felt his steel child’s pain as he peered over his stocky engineer’s shoulder at the starboard motor. “Can you get it working?”
“I’ll know in a minute. The entire compartment except the motor is disconnected from the main battery.”
The drained engine room smelled like brine, and Cahill was concerned about electrocuting his crew with shorted wires and puddles. “But you’re optimistic?”
“I’m never optimistic until it works.” The man removed a test meter from the replacement motor controller he’d installed, and then he labored to his feet.
“Well?”
“According to the diagnostics, it works. If the control panel controller works, you should have use of the motor.”
“You’ve checked grounds?”
The man rubbed his sleeve over his sweaty brow. “We connected the battery to the motor, and the grounds are high but in-spec.”
“Give it a spin, then.” Cahill followed his waddling engineer to the engine room’s control panel where a technician stepped aside.
The engineer waved a thick hand. “Go watch the motor.” As the technician darted away, the engineer moved stubby fingers over a touchscreen, making colored needles jump from their leftmost stops as current flowed. “Rolling forward!”
From the room’s far end, the technician responded. “Confirmed, rolling forward!”
The engineer tapped icons, stopping the engine. “All stop!”
“Confirmed, all stop!”
A final tapping sequence. “Rolling aft!”
“Confirmed, rolling aft!”
“Your starboard motor’s ready, Terry. If the port team’s having equal luck, we can give you propulsion to the limits of five MESMA plants.”
Cahill hurried forward through the starboard hull, the still-shrieking limpets sounding like slow smoke detectors on steroids. He climbed to the bridge where his executive officer, Liam Walker, investigated the status of the Goliath’s systems. “What do you have, Liam?”
“We’re ready on both main engines. All MESMA plants are up except six because the team was too busy in the engine room to repair it.”
“Good. We should reach at least eleven knots, I’d guess.”
Walker pointed out the windows at four sailors on the cargo bed. Using knives and bolt cutters, they slashed through the lingering parasitic nets. “They’ve cleared one of them and are halfway through the second.”
“Bring them in. It’s not safe out there. I’m not going to trust the hijacker’s honesty or accuracy about the timing of his bombs, and I’m beaching us ASAP.”
“Got it, Terry. I’ll get them in.” Walker tapped an icon and aimed his nose to a microphone that sent his voice outside the ship. “Come in on the double, gents. Your work is done.”
The men gathered their tools and crossed a temporary gangway from the bed to the ship’s starboard hull. They then lowered the walkway into the open hatch and returned inside the ship.
“It’s now or never. Contact Pierre and make sure the Pakistanis have secured our landing area.”
Renard responded over the loudspeaker. “I’m listening, Terry. Your landing area is secure. I assure you, you won’t be killing any civilians. You’re free to beach yourself.”
“I understand I’m free to beach the Goliath. I’m going to back up and get a running start. I’ve got control. Coming to all back one third.”
The patrolling Pakistani sailors became smaller as the transport ship slipped backwards a quarter mile from its starting point. Eyeballing the distance to the breaking waves, Cahill estimated a full nautical mile. “Good enough?”
Walker shrugged. “Go for it.”
“Coming to all ahead standard.”
Cahill tapped the Goliath to life, and wakes formed at its bows.
Walker announced the forward progress. “Five knots.”
“Hold on to your knickers.”
The executive officer laughed. “Seven knots.”
“Me hair’s practically on fire.”
“Enough, Terry. Nine knots.”
“Would you like to do a crossword puzzle while waiting?” Inwardly Cahill laughed at himself for his accelerated adrenaline rush. On land, he could outsprint his crippled ship, but the mass and momentum of his beautiful beast hitting hard sand caused concern.
The Pakistani sailors who formed a wide perimeter grew larger, and the breaking waves became clearer.
Cahill sank into his console’s chair and strapped his seat belt. He grabbed a railing with both hands and watched Walker do the same. He aimed his voice upward to his crew. “Brace for collision.”
“Eleven and a half knots.”
Before reaching twelve knots, the ship grazed submerged sand, and Cahill tapped a rudder command. “Left hard rudder.”
The beachscape rolled right across his dome windows as the Goliath rode onto the sand. Slowing hard under grinding friction, the starboard hull slid to a stop, and momentum angled the deck right ten degrees.
For a frightening moment, the port hull rose a meter into the air, but then it recovered and splashed into the waves.
His heart pounding, Cahill declared his success. “That’s a fine parking job, if I don’t say so meself. Get the boys far away from the ship, and let’s watch the explosions from a safe distance.”
CHAPTER 22
Three days later in a Karachi submarine base officer club, Jake gobbled skewered mincemeat while he scanned the table’s other faces to gauge his colleague’s moods.
Each man showed outward appearances of processing the hijacking differently.
On his right, Henri appeared stoic, having endured the crisis with a quiet wisdom. Beside him, Cahill appeared animated and engaged, valuing his moments with the team that represented his connection to the Goliath.
He sensed a renewed connection between the Australian and his ship. After witnessing the loss and recapture, Jake noticed the burgeoning bond between the ship and its commander.
He also noticed an enhanced relationship between the Goliath’s commander and the Specter’s crew, and he expected that Cahill would be his partner for many future missions.
Skipping to Volkov, Jake saw a happy man who’d enjoyed the crisis as a spirited challenge. Having solidified his position within the fleet as the hero of Israel, the Russian commander was a welcomed site at the table.
Renard, however, appeared pensive as he nibbled on a stuffed grape leaf. Reaching for a glass of sparkling water, he generated the energy to speak. “Gentlemen, I see that most of you are finishing your main courses.”