Things were happening rapidly now. One of the air contacts resolved itself into a Jian 7, the Chinese naval version of the venerable MiG 21, thundering in low from the northwest. Yolander triggered his Stinger, sending a missile streaking up toward the interceptor, which banked sharply, scattering flares.
This time the decoy worked and the Stinger missed, but the MiG circled well clear toward the north, cautious now.
More minutes passed, as the last of the wounded commandos, strapped tightly into his Stokes, was lowered feet first through the narrow aft hatch. The last couple of SEALs leaped the gap between the trawler and the Seawolf, landing on the broad, sloping deck and scrambling up with the help of outstretched hands from the waiting Seawolf sailors.
"Cast off the line!" COB shouted. "Cast off! Clear away!"
The Seawolf's end of the line was tossed overboard; there was no time to secure it. Dougherty and Yolander tossed their empty Stinger launchers over the side rather than try to manhandle them down the narrow hatch. Dougherty waved the last of the SEALs and the deck party below. "Come on!" he shouted. "Come on! What do you guys want, a guided tour of Beijing? Move it!"
The last of the sailors vanished down the hatch. Dougherty waved at Garrett. "Deck clear, deck party secured and below!"
"Maneuvering, Bridge. Flank speed, full ahead!"
"Bridge, Maneuvering. Flank ahead, aye!"
"Dive! Dive! Take us down!"
Garrett was already dropping down into the conning tower hatch and slamming the hatch tight above him. Dogging the hatch, he hurried down the rest of the ladder, dropping into the control room.
He checked the clock. "Sonar! Range to nearest torpedoes."
"Two torpedoes closing from zero-five-zero, range two thousand. They have acquired. The Kilo cut them loose a moment ago."
He'd cut it a bit closer than he'd hoped.
"Conn, Sonar. Unit Three, our snapshot, has acquired the target."
"Captain," Ward said. "The snapshot might have scared them off, made them change course."
"Maybe," he said, nodding. It didn't matter now. Seawolf had her own problems. "Helm, come left forty degrees."
"Come left, forty degrees, aye, sir."
That would put the incoming torpedoes squarely astern. Seawolf had a top speed nearly equal to that of the Set-53 torpedoes. If she could stay ahead of them for thirty miles or so, they would run out of fuel before they could close the gap.
But Seawolf had to reach her top speed first, and you didn't accelerate a ten-thousand-ton submarine from zero to forty-five in less than several minutes.
"Helm. What's our speed?"
"Passing ten knots, sir."
"Sonar! Range to nearest torpedoes?"
"Range fourteen hundred and closing."
"Sonar. Give me a count on the range."
"Aye aye, sir. Torpedoes now at twelve hundred yards, closing. Eleven hundred yards… one thousand yards… "
"Speed twenty knots, Captain."
"Very well."
"Range to torpedoes nine hundred yards. Eight hundred… " There was a much longer pause. "Seven hundred." Then, "Six hundred fifty."
"Speed thirty knots."
Seawolf was moving faster now, racing through the ocean depths, open sea ahead.
"Conn, Sonar! I have an explosion on a bearing matching Master Four-two! We hit him, sir!"
This time there was a cheer from the men in the control room.
"As you were, people." It wasn't time for celebrations yet.
"I'm getting breakup noises from Master Four-two. He's on the bottom. Master Four-six is sinking as well."
"Range to nearest torpedoes."
"Five hundred fifty yards."
"What about Master Four-five?"
"The Akula is still closing at forty knots, sir. Range twenty-five thousand yards. His fish are at fifteen thousand yards, closing slowly."
A pair of black-clad, dripping forms entered the control room from the aft doorway. "Permission to come aboard, Captain."
Garrett looked at the SEAL with surprise. His face was black with grease paint, but he recognized the voice. "You! Commander…Morton, isn't it?"
"Son of a bitch! Captain Garrett!" He looked at his companion. "Jammer, that's the second time this guy has pulled me out of the drink!"
"Permission to come aboard granted." Garrett grinned. "But let's not make a habit of this, okay?"
"I'd rather not, Captain, if it's all the same to you."
"Range to nearest torpedoes."
"Conn, Sonar. Range now four hundred yards."
"Helm? Speed?"
"Speed now forty knots."
The torpedoes were closing now at a rate of five knots. They would close the gap in another three minutes.
He kept watching the clock. The two SEAL officers stood death-silent, aware now of the danger stalking them all, yard by yard, from astern.
"Two hundred yards."
And then, "One hundred yards."
"Weapons systems! Release countermeasures!"
"Countermeasures away!"
"Helm, come right one hundred degrees!"
"Helm right one hundred degrees, aye!"
At this speed, the deck tilted sharply as the Seawolf leaned into the turn. At forty knots, they were effectively dogfighting with those torps.
"Torpedoes bearing straight!" Toynbee's voice called. "We suckered 'em!"
"They still might reacquire." The torpedoes had picked up the sound makers released by the Seawolf and failed to match her hard-right turn. Once they'd punched past the decoys, however, they would begin circling, following an automatic program to search for another target.
And Seawolf was the only target within range.
More minutes dragged past, as Seawolf raced toward the northwest. After putting a fair distance between her screw and the torpedoes she changed course again, heading south once more.
Sonar reported that both torpedoes were pinging, searching with their active sonar, but the signals were weak, too weak, perhaps, to pick up the Seawolf. After five minutes one torpedo reacquired the American submarine, but by then the Seawolf had opened up the range again, and the torpedo fell far astern.
The warshots from the Akula had long since been lost.
And the Seawolf reached the open sea.
"Captain! An urgent message, in from Fleet Headquarters."
Shangxiao Hsing accepted the message flimsy and read it, scowling. He was being ordered to break off the attack. There was a more important target approaching.
Perhaps it was just as well. The American Seawolf had eluded his carefully prepared box trap and managed to sink two Kilos and a destroyer directly, as well as being responsible for severe damage to a third Kilo. He had one Kilo left in his small wolf pack, the Heilong — the Black Dragon. With the American out of the box, the odds were not as good as Sinbad would have liked.
And the battle elsewhere was not going well. Minutes ago an American Los Angeles-class submarine had sunk the Kilo-class Nan Yu north of Taiwan. Two more, the Kilo-class Jade Dragon — the Yulong — and a PLA Romeo submarine, had been spotted by Taiwanese antisubmarine forces west of Taiwan and sunk from the air. And one, the Tai Feng, had been damaged in her encounter with the Seawolf in Hong Kong harbor and returned to port at Guangzhou.