The shape of the island conformed precisely to the geological pattern of a great volcano rising up from the seabed. It shoaled down steeply to 850 feet right off the rock-strewn beach, then, in less than seven miles, plummeted to a narrow plateau 5,000 feet below the surface. From there, the ocean floor dove steeply for one mile and a half, straight down to a depth of more than 12,000 feet. Almost identical ocean statistics to those of La Palma, 50 miles to the north.
At 0800, Adm. Ben Badr ordered the Barracuda to creep up slowly from these massive depths to access the satellite, check the GPS, and to report course and position to the private satellite receiver above the house on Sharia Bab Touma in Damascus, the command headquarters of the operation where the former Maj. Ray Kerman already lurked, awaiting the signal.
Admiral Badr’s Executive Officer, Capt. Ali Akbar Mohtaj, ordered the periscope and the ESM mast up. There was no threat radar on the surface, and the comms room instantly retrieved a message off the Chinese navy satellite. It revealed the wave-band numbers of the French GPS, should the U.S. take the precaution of blacking out the main access channels. General Rashood had received intelligence of possible “limited GPS interruption,” but the Pentagon had been cagey, releasing the news only on the restricted shipping and airline channels. The Arab newspapers hardly mentioned it, and it would be several hours before the General could access the Wall Street Journal, since he was operating eight hours ahead of the U.S. East Coast.
The Barracuda’s comms staff checked French and American GPS wave bands. Both were onstream. Suddenly they heard U.S. Navy radar. Captain Mohtaj quickly ordered mast and periscope down, and the submarine back to a depth of 500 feet. Too late. Eric Nielsen’s Nicholas had picked up a suspect at extreme range with three sweeps, 12 miles north of the jutting periscope.
The frigate’s computers flashed into action, bringing up the previous “paint,” seven hours previously at 40 miles to the west. If the same ship had caused both sightings, they were looking at a transient contact, making around six knots, bearing zero-nine-zero, due east, along latitude 27.25N.
Within seconds, the computerized deductions hit the comms room in the Coronado up to the northwest of Lanzarote, and Admiral Gillmore immediately appreciated the situation. For the moment, the Elrod and the Nicholas were slightly behind the eight ball, but on standby. Right off the northeast headland of Tenerife, he had Capt. Clint Sammons’s Klakring and Comdr. Joe Wickman’s Simpson. He ordered them to make good speed south for 100 miles and to begin their search as they crossed latitude 27.30N. ETA Barracuda: 2200 hours.
So far as Admiral Gillmore could see, he had the submarine strapped between his four frigates. But he also knew that the Barracuda was so quiet, it could creep 500 feet beneath them, at a silent 5 to 6 knots, and not be detected by passive sonar, though it might be “active.”
Admiral Gillmore fired off a signal to Adm. Frank Doran, who was still in the command center at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters in Norfolk…“070800OCT09 Possible detection Barracuda, course zero-nine-zero, 14 miles south of Hierro Island. Course and speed correlates possible six-knot transient submarine detected 070100OCT09. Elrod and Nicholas tracking, Klakring and Simpson running south to intercept. Gillmore.
Eight minutes later, Arnold Morgan leapt to his feet from his desk in the sparsely furnished Oval Office, punched the air, and gritted…“Come on, guys…let’s tighten the fucking screws, put that little bastard on the seabed…”
“You’re not beginning to take this personally, by any chance, are you Arnold?” asked President Bedford, disarmingly.
“Christ no, sir. I just love chasing boatloads of underwater terrorists around the oceans — I just get a little edgy after the first year…”
Meanwhile, back in the eastern Atlantic, Admiral Gillmore ordered the carrier the Ronald Reagan southwest towards the coast of Gran Canaria, from its holding position 15 miles north of Lanzarote.
The U.S. Navy’s dragnet was closing in, but Admiral Gillmore was taking a calculated risk that the transient contacts were indeed the Barracuda. If they were not, and the Hamas terrorists were coming in from farther north, he would be heavily dependent on the steel cordon of guided-missile frigates out of Norfolk, which currently circled La Palma, inshore and offshore.
Right now, a carrier was flying two continuous patrols between the west coast of La Palma and the towering coast of the island of Gomera, where the precipitous cliffs crash headlong into the ocean, just 35 miles northeast of Hierro.
All of the Navy’s assessments claimed that the submarine, if it was to fire its missiles visually, must come in towards the Cumbre Vieja from either Gomera’s southwest or northeast coast. The Barracuda might ultimately duck back behind this rocky fortress for shelter in the moments before the mega-tsunami surged outwards into its horrendous reality.
Oblivious of the bear trap closing in around them, the Barracuda had somewhat carelessly failed to detect the closeness of USS Nicholas, and now the Russian-built nuclear boat proceeded deep along her easterly course, slowly and quietly.
Down in the Navigation area, Lt. Ashtari Mohammed estimated that by midnight, they would reach a point 24 miles southwest of Playa de Ingles, the seething gay Mecca of the island of Gran Canaria, winter headquarters of Sodomites International, and a place likely to be crushed beneath a 50-foot tidal wave one hour after impact. Still, death by drowning would probably arrive on fleeting wings, which would doubtless beat the hell out of being turned to stone.
That particular point on the chart would be critical for the submarine, because they would arrive there just as the world GPS was scheduled to crash. And the precise moment that Admiral Badr ordered his ship to the surface would determine how swiftly he would know that a long-range launch was out of the question.
And they ran quietly and silently all day, without the U.S. frigates locating them. At 0030 on that moonlit Thursday morning, Admiral Badr ordered the Barracuda to PD, and her periscope came thrusting out of the water, alongside her mighty ESM mast, which was almost as thick as a telegraph pole. The two steel poles jutted right into the path of the radar sweeping across the water from all four of the trailing U.S. frigates.
The Barracuda sucked down a signal from General Rashood in the couple of seconds before the submarine’s ops room picked up the frigates on their ESM. Continuous sweeps. Captain Mohtaj simply said, “We’re surrounded, sir.”
“I understand that,” replied Ben Badr. “But they’re six miles away and we’re not finished by any means…10 BOW DOWN 600…MAKE YOUR SPEED TEN…COME RIGHT TWENTY DEGREES…”
At that moment, young Ahmed Sabah came bursting out of the comms room with the communication from Damascus…U.S. GPS satellite communications crashed at midnight…Zhanjiang naval base making no contact with French version…world GPS black. Abort long-range launch. Repeat abort long-range launch…Change course northwest and proceed to coast of Gomera…Then head into La Palma launch zone 25 miles off the east coast, for visual setup. Allah goes with you. Rashood.
All four U.S. frigates picked up the radar contact, and all four had solid contact. Both previous detections had been along the 27.25 line of latitude, and so was this third one. Each of the four Commanding Officers — Eric Nielsen, C. J. Smith, Clint Sammons, and Joe Wickman — was now certain that they had their quarry under surveillance. And they all knew, of course, that the GPS was down, and that the Barracuda was almost certain to change course right here at 27.25N 16.06W.