“The basic problem,” said the technician, “is actually twofold — we don’t know why the timer didn’t activate the detonator, and we don’t know if any of the components have degraded enough to be non-volatile.”
“What happens if we just extract or cut the wires to detonator cap?” said Sinclair.
Hawthorne looked at Erich. “What about that, Captain?”
“The timer-cap assembly had a dead-man circuit,” he said quietly.
Entwhistle cursed.
“Is that as bad as I think it is?” said Sinclair.
Hawthorne hesitated. “I’m not sure. I don’t really know much about demolition.”
“We covered the basics in DSR,” said Sinclair. “If it’s like the classic rig, once everything is connected you can’t disconnect it. Cutting a wire or breaking the circuit by pulling it free — that’d be the same as pushing the red button. Right, Captain?”
Erich nodded. “That is correct. If by chance, the enemy could get aboard a U-boat before the charges went off, they still could not stop the scuttle operation.”
“We can’t risk this,” said Hawthorne. “We need something more sophisticated than what we have with us. Liquid nitrogen would do the trick — super-freeze everything. It would be neutralized.”
No one spoke for a moment, and Erich suppressed a smile. They were in quite a fix and they knew it.
“So what in faggoty hell does this mean?” said Entwhistle. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not feeling altogether cheery about this.”
“Maybe we should take a vote,” said Tommy.
Erich looked at him and grinned. Up until now, he’d been keeping silent and watchful, as if waiting for a chance to make a move.
“A vote.” Sinclair looked amused.
Tommy continued. “Because if I get one — I’m for stoppin’ right now, and gettin’ out of Dodge.”
“You don’t get a vote. So I’d advise you to—” Sinclair paused. He touched his headset, seating it more firmly in his ear as he received a sudden transmission.
Watching him closely, Erich strained to catch the message, but could not. However, Sinclair could not mask his reaction to what he was hearing. Whatever it was, it was not good.
“Stand by,” said Sinclair into the mic. Then to Entwhistle: “That was Tanner. He’s lost contact with the Isabel Marie.”
Entwhistle looked abruptly concerned. “He give you a reason?”
“He thinks they took a missile.”
Entwhistle grinned beneath his red mustache. “Your old Navy chaps showing some stones, are they?”
“So it seems.” Sinclair’s expression a mixture of anger and uncertainty.
Tommy chuckled softly. “Looks like it’s a new ballgame, dude.”
Entwhistle wheeled around, bringing up his right hand in a blur, to impact with Tommy’s jaw. Erich was stunned by the savage suddenness of the attack. That Tommy had kept his feet, much less his consciousness, was a testament to the kid’s toughness.
“I hate that word—‘dude’,” said Entwhistle. Then he turned back to Sinclair. “Now, back to business. Our next move?”
Sinclair tried to affect a bored expression. “Without the support vessel, we’re on our own. The Navy probably has a hunter/killer on the way. And you can bet we’ll have some SEALS in here a lot sooner than that.”
“You have any ideas?” Entwhistle said.
Hawthorne had turned, looked up with great dread in his eyes. “Are we in trouble?” he said lamely.
Ignoring them, Sinclair touched his headset mic, activated it. “Tanner, send a signal to that Navy boat. Tell them we know their intentions. Tell them to back off… or we detonate.”
Bruckner saw everyone’s eyes widen ever so slightly. All these kill-hardened men. All of them thinking the unthinkable. None of them particularly ready to die.
“What?” said Hawthorne. Sweat ran down his forehead into his eyes. He yanked off his glasses, tried to clear them. “I… didn’t sign on for this! I… I can’t even be sure it would work. It… it won’t work!”
Sinclair removed his sidearm, raised it slowly to the technician’s head. “You didn’t ‘sign on’ for this either.”
The man whimpered, closed his eyes.
“Do what you’re told, or it’s over for you.” Sinclair lowered the weapon, but did not holster it. “No matter what.”
“All right. All right. I will. Please. I will.” Hawthorne spoke softly as if reciting a prayer. He made an effort to control his trembling, replaced his horn-rimmed glasses and got to his feet slowly. Then he stood in silence, like a soldier awaiting his next orders.
“What’s the play?” said Entwhistle.
Sinclair continued his effort to look bored. “If they respond at all, that means they’re willing to talk about it. We should know their minds pretty soon now.”
No one spoke as they all waited for a reply that might never come.
Chapter Fifty-One
Whitehurst was looking at him like he was sixteen and had just asked for the keys to family sedan. The Admiral walked him off to the glass, where both stared straight ahead at the angry ocean. Dex listened as his old C.O. stood straight and unmoving, assuming a commanding posture. “Chief, what you’re asking me is way out of bounds, you know that.”
Dex spoke softly. “Isn’t this whole operation ‘out of bounds’?”
The Admiral ran a hand through his short, graying hair, exhaled slowly. “I could lose my rank for something like that. They’re called civilians for a reason.”
Dex cast about for the right response when the bridge communications officer interjected. “Excuse me, sir, I’ve got a message from the enemy.”
“They have this channel?” said Danvers with obvious surprise.
“They’re not amateurs,” said Harry Olmstead. “Trust me on that one.”
“Patch them in,” said Whitehurst.
As intrigued as Dex might be regarding the latest wrinkle, he wasn’t happy to have his argument stalled. But he listened with everyone else on the command deck as the bad guys made their ultimate threat, realized that everything had changed.
Whitehurst let the message settle in, then he looked at Olmstead. “You think that device is still hot?”
The CTG Director didn’t hesitate. “Not having seen it, I have no idea. But you remember what Dr. Schaller said — given the German reputation for making things right, it’s a good bet it’s live.”
Whitehurst nodded. “The real question is whether they’re serious or not.”
“It also answers a big concern,” said Dex. He didn’t want to infuse himself into the discussion, but he couldn’t help himself. Before anyone could stop him, he pushed on. “They wouldn’t even make that threat if they knew they had back-up on the way.”
“He’s right,” said Olmstead. “We can pretty much rule out any enemy subs coming to the rescue.”
“It also makes sense strategically in terms of the base,” said Whitehurst. “If the bad guys can’t control it, then nobody will.”
Olmstead was nonplussed. “This is a no-brainer. We tell them we’re backing off, and we go in anyway. We have the SEALS. They don’t.”
“Okay,” said Whitehurst. “What happens if they follow up — as soon as they see us coming?”
Harry Olmstead shrugged. “We gambled and lost. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Dex faced the Admiral. “But you’ve got civilians involved. Weren’t we just talking about that subject?”
“I think you can pretty much write them off as bargaining chips, Mr. McCauley.” Olmstead smirked as if he found something amusingly simplistic in Dex’s question. “If the enemy is willing to blow itself up, they have no problem taking the hostages along with them.”