Unless Norman released a couple of missiles.
On the command net, he heard one of the Oliver H. Perry’s ASW helicopters reporting a sonar contact.
On his last day in the Navy, Devlin McCory stood in front of Norman’s desk, holding his baby boy in his arms, and grinning that big, Irish grin. “I’m sure as hell going to miss the Navy, Mr. Norman, but I’m proud to leave it in your hands.”
“We are prepared to fire on your command, Captain,” Perkins told him. He did not sound happy about it.
Barry Norman did not know Devlin McCory’s kid, and it would not have mattered if he had. His orders were to blow either of the stealth boats out of the water.
His duty was to protect the United States of America, including its ships. If that was Badr out there, Mini-Harpoons could be flying at any second.
The blip showing on the plot could be Badr heading for his support ship, or it could be McCory and Monahan.
He reached out for Perkins’s headset, and the commander handed it to him quickly.
“Give me Tac-Three.”
“Aye aye sir,” a technician told him.
“Night Light, if that’s you, I want a barber shop set of clicks.”
Dut, dut-dut-dut-dut-dut… dut-dut.
Norman returned the headset to Perkins, spun away from the plot, and headed for the hatchway. “Secure weapons, Commander. I’ll be on the bridge.”
As he entered the light trap, he heard one of the console operators reporting, “The Perry’s launched missiles.”
Norman did not think he would get a battleship. And he would probably lose his destroyer, too.
The missile bay doors were open, and Badr, Kadar, Heusseini, and Rahman were in the bay, groping for the tanker’s lifting cables.
Abdul Hakim leaned over the railing above, grinning down at them. “The news on the radio is glorious, Colonel,” he yelled.
Badr nodded. He had been listening to the newscasts, also. The reports from Norfolk and Langley Air Base were gratifying. The fatality count was high. There would be fewer soldiers to harass Allah’s believers.
“You know, of course, that American ships surround us?” Hakim yelled.
“I know that, Captain. It is not a concern.”
“They are headed toward us.”
That was new information. Though Heusseini had begged, Badr had not let him activate the radar in the last few minutes.
Badr was about to ask Hakim if his ancient radar had determined the speed of the ships, when he heard an explosion to the southwest.
Then, quickly, two more.
He spun around, peering into the darkness, but he could see nothing. Salt spray whipped over him.
Amin Kadar gripped the top edge of the missile bay door to steady himself against the surge of the sea. He stared out into the night. “They are coming, Colonel. We will die.”
“If we die, Amin, it is Allah’s will. But we will take many American devils with us.” Badr released the cable he was holding.
“We will attack the ships now?”
“We will attack the ships. You will load missiles on the launcher.”
“At once.”
Rahman joined him eagerly as Badr and Heusseini headed back into the cabin.
Six minutes later, Ibrahim Badr turned away from the tanker and picked up speed toward the southwest.
“I may go active?” Heusseini asked.
“Yes. Choose your targets wisely, Omar.”
“Son of a bitch!” Monahan had yelled. “Hard to starboard! Kill the engines!”
McCory wasn’t good at taking orders, but he took those immediately, slamming the wheel over to the right, reaching out to stab the ignition defeat on each engine.
The SeaGhost heeled over, was battered upright by an oncoming wave, and began to lose speed. She bounced hard in the troughs.
White arrows streaked overhead. One, then two more.
McCory didn’t see the impacts, but he felt the concussion of the explosions as they echoed through the sea and against the SeaGhost’s hull.
“They had us targeted on infrared,” Monahan said. “Light ’em up, again.”
“Where in hell did they come from?” McCory asked as he started the engines.
“Safari Delta.”
“Your boss means business.”
“He usually does. But I’d bet that Andrews is pressing him on this, citing technicalities. Andrews tends to be a regulations man.”
“It’s still lethal.” McCory spun the helm back and picked up speed. “You want to risk the speed again?”
“Hell, I don’t… ”
The command net channel sounded off. “Safari Echo to all units. Echo has two incoming missiles. Delta, you’ve got two headed your way.”
“That’s him!” McCory yelled.
“Full bore,” Monahan shouted back.
McCory shoved the throttles in. “Open the cargo doors.”
“Shit, Kevin,” Monahan said, “you’ve fired one of these before. I haven’t.”
McCory rose from his seat, and Monahan slid behind the helm. McCory dropped into the center chair, activated the armaments panel, and saw four green LEDs. He punched the pad for the doors, then raised the launcher. He felt an urge to go aft and check on them, but suppressed it.
Through the windshield, he saw two missiles cross the horizon ahead of them, headed south.
The command net was overrun with excited, but orderly, reports. Ships dodging missiles, mounting missile defenses.
“Maybe Safari Delta will forget about us?” McCory said.
“Don’t count on it.”
The SeaGhost took the choppy seas easily. By the time she had reached fifty knots again, the up-and-down rhythm had steadied.
McCory’s screen was on night-vision video, but no ships or boats were visible. He tried infrared. Nothing. Well, no. A small red dot. Probably an aircraft.
Thumbing the keypad, he switched the radar to active and selected the thirty-mile scan. The screen immediately lit, and the scan displayed fourteen solid targets within the thirty-mile diameter. Three tiny, fast-moving blips would be missiles. Where was the fourth? “MITS,” “PRBL,” and “PERR,” were still identified, remembered by the computer.
McCory picked out the Hormuz. The other stealth boat was not shown.
On the radio, one of the ships in Safari Charley reported a missile hit on the fantail.
Another reported a new active radar.
“I’m going to eliminate Badr’s support ship,” McCory said.
Monahan hesitated. “Hell, why not? I don’t think any of the others will do it.”
Activating the radar-targeting link, McCory manipulated the orange target blossom until it was centered on the tanker’s blip, then keyed the target lock.
“LOCK-ON” appeared on the screen.
He pressed the launch keypad.
The computer launched immediately.
WHOOSH.
“Goddamn,” Monahan said as the solid booster ignited and kicked the missile off the rail. The white flare burned McCory’s night vision.
Safari Echo and Safari Charley ships reported the last three hostile missiles destroyed.
“New launch! New launch! From Target One. I think.”
As his vision returned, McCory checked the screen. He blinked and checked it again.
Two moving dots.
“I’ve got incoming,” he said. The adrenaline was pumping through him, but he felt like he was settling in. Another night exercise. He was onstage, and the butterflies had flitted away.