After the door closed, the President picked up the phone.
‘Any progress on your investigation?’ he asked. He listened for a few moments, then replied ‘OK, keep looking.’ The President listened some more, then muttered under his breath. ‘What in God’s name are the Brits doing in all of this?’
Chapter 13
‘Five minutes to landing sir,’ shouted the flight engineer over the roar of the engines. He indicated McIver’s harness. ‘Can I give you a hand?’
Rear Admiral ‘Jock’ McIver reached for the safety strap and gripped it tight to prevent him pitching forward into the vast and largely empty body of the Chinook. In his other hand he clutched a briefcase and a sheaf of papers — operational orders for his upcoming assignment. God knows why they had decided to send such a big transport for just one person.
McIver tucked the papers away into his brief case and struggled to get up from the floor with the engineer assisting. When he was on his feet the engineer looked more closely at McIver before backing away.
‘Sorry sir, I thought I recognised your face. Are you the guy that saved a helicopter crew from drowning — about two years ago?’
McIver grunted. It was more like three years ago and it had been on board another Chinook like this one. The flight engineer was careless in doing up the buckles of his harness. He hadn’t pulled the cinches tight and he failed to test them.
That was when powerful alarm bells went off in McIver’s mind and he insisted that they delay arrival on the target by 15 minutes. As expected both pilot and navigator kicked up a fuss, but McIver outranked them. In the end he had to give them an order. Then he went over each of his own team’s kit with the engineer, making sure that he pulled all the straps tight. He insisted that they wore life jackets on top of the rest of their gear. He gave them a pep talk and when he had finished he had his second in command check over his own kit. That, more than anything else, had saved his life and the lives of his team and the crew.
The crew had objected when he insisted that they wore their life jackets too. But they were forever grateful he did. Five kilometres away from the drop zone the main engine started to give trouble and the pilot made to turn back. After two kilometres and losing height, the forward rotor engine spluttered and died all together.
On the way down McIver recited the procedure for ditching at sea, shouting above the roar of the one remaining engine. He ensured everyone’s flashlights were on and that they knew exactly where the exit hatches were. In the last few minutes he told them the order at which they would make their escape because he knew just how devastating uncontrolled panic could be. Shortly before impact the big chopper started to circle in a dizzying spiral. McIver shouted, telling them how to avoid the sense of disorientation. He ordered an exit hatch to be opened and the staff sergeant kicked out an emergency survival pack into the dark of the night.
They hit with an astonishing force. But above the noise of the crash and the surge of water filling up the interior, McIver continued to shout instructions. Thanks to his calm authority they all made it out of the machine and up to the surface. Those out first swam towards the survival pack and pulled the tabs to inflate the life raft. Those out last found it waiting for them.
Later it was discovered that fuel contamination was to blame for the crash and out of five helicopters taking part in the exercise, only McIver’s was affected. Two of the other crews picked them up about fifteen minutes later.
It was rare for everyone to survive a crash over water in those conditions. A few days later, the crew presented him with a signed certificate which still hung in his wardroom.
Despite the lashing rain produced by a local storm cell they made a safe landing on the rear deck of the lead Cruiser of the Anti-Submarine Warfare group — the USS Port Royal. As he climbed down onto the apron, McIver saw Captain Jim Armstrong waiting for him in the shelter of a stair well. Armstrong hurried over and reached forward to shake his hand. McIver turned back towards the helicopter and waved his thanks to the pilot and crew.
A few minutes later Captain Armstrong held open the door to his cabin and followed McIver in. McIver gave the room a quick glance. There was a tiny conference desk with four chairs around it. Leading off was a door to the bedroom and another to the bathroom. Some family photos were positioned along the shelf around the room. Overall, it looked more like an office than the Captain’s living quarters.
‘Drink?’ Armstrong enquired.
McIver nodded and removed his wet coat, then sat while the Captain poured a stiff measure of Bourbon. He raised his glass in a brief salute.
‘I suppose you’re wondering what’s brought me out this far?’
The Captain pursed his lips. ‘You could say that Admiral.’
‘No need for rank in here Jim. Jack will do.’
‘Jack it is then’, agreed the Captain. ‘I have heard about you.’
‘Not all bad, I hope?’ asked McIver.
‘No — one of our more senior ranks on-board, a Lieutenant commander Wilson, was on a tour with you a couple of years back. He told me there’s some scuttlebutt about possible promotion to a White House posting.’
‘Is that right?’ murmured McIver and swallowed a mouthful of the Bourbon. ‘If he hears any more, I’d be grateful if you would give me advance warning.’
Armstrong grinned as he poured a drink for himself. ‘Well Jack, you know what it’s like. Anyway, you must be in a hurry…’
McIver studied the remains of his drink. ‘It may be a wild goose chase Jim, but the top brass are having a combined hissy fit over this one. I’ve never seen them so… worried.’
‘What can you tell me?’ asked the Captain.
McIver took another sip. ‘Practically nothing Jim, because I know next to nothing.’
McIver sat back in his chair. The warmth of the cabin and the heat from the bourbon made him feel exhausted and the weariness nearly overwhelmed him. ‘You were sent into the southern Atlantic to find an experimental sub.’
‘I was given a rough area to search, but nothing appeared on the radar.’
‘There’s a possibility it has turned north. It might even be on its way to New York.’
Armstrong sucked his teeth. ‘Is everyone serious about this, or is there a chance that this might all blow over before morning?’ asked Armstrong finally.
‘It’s possible’, conceded McIver. ‘But I wouldn’t count on it. Apparently this thing is out of control, so I can’t see it suddenly reverting to its original orders for no reason. I think we are going to have to find it.’
‘We didn’t find it in the southern ocean, so what chance will we have of finding in the north?’
‘True’ replied McIver. But this ASW group is my secret weapon. My instinct tells me the sub is likely to have a pop at anything, so you are my magnet that will help me find the needle.’
‘And then what?’ Armstrong asked. ‘If this rogue sub is as powerful as they say and my group finds itself under attack, it might sink us all.’
McIver finished his drink in one long swallow. ‘If it finds us first, we need to be prepared. That’s why I’m beefing up the task force — another group are joining us in the next 24 hours.’
McIver eyed up the man in front of him. ‘If it finds us first, I’m depending on you Jim.’