“Or they will kill him to stop him from talking.”
“Either way there’s nothing I can do for you from here. If I challenge the Chief of the Navy, and he’s culpable, he will refute it. And if he’s not involved, but someone down his chain of command is responsible, then it will only increase their need to eliminate the evidence by killing Sam.”
“So that’s it then?” Tom asked.
“I’m sorry, Tom. My hands are tied.”
“Okay, but mine aren’t.”
Tom ended the call. His eyes fixed on Genevieve and Veyron who’d been listening to the hurried conversation. Their hardened resolve, expressed exactly what he was thinking — the crew of the Maria Helena never left anyone behind.
Genevieve said, “All right. How do you want to play this thing?”
“We’re going to have to retrieve Sam ourselves.”
Matthew stared at him, a mixture of disbelief and astonishment in his sky-blue eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding. How?”
Tom grinned sardonically. “By boarding their submarine.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
After one of the divers severed Tom’s emergency ballast weights and sent him skyrocketing to the surface, there was nothing Sam could do to overcome the remaining seven attackers. Within minutes, they had disabled him, binding his pincers together so that they could no longer open them and wreak havoc on their soft flesh.
Unable to do anything to prevent it, he was dragged in through the submarine’s Multi-Mission Platform, which allowed launch and recovery of ROVs and Navy SEAL forces. He’d seen them on other submarines but was surprised to learn that his attackers had been Navy SEALs.
Once inside the lockout chamber,the outer hatch was sealed and the water vented, leaving them inside a dry chamber. The elite soldiers worked quickly with a set of spanners to remove his atmospheric diving suit.
As soon as they pulled off his large helmet, they dragged Sam through the opening. He provided little resistance. He was trapped in a confined space with four U.S. Navy SEALs, there wasn’t just little chance that he could escape — there was no chance he could escape. Besides, it was unlikely they wanted him dead. If they had, he’d little doubt he would be dead already.
Sam shot one of the men a faint grin. “No, no, gentlemen. I’m sure I said pick me up at eight for prom night.”
One of the shorter SEALs made a thin-lipped smile, clearly unimpressed by Sam’s bravado. “Cute.”
Sam met his steely gaze. “All right, let’s cut to the chase. Which one of you want to tell me why I’m here?”
“Mr. Sam Reilly, my name is A.J.” the shorter SEAL replied. “And you’re here, because you couldn’t help sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. Some secrets were meant to stay buried, for the good of this country. You of all people should know that.”
Sam shook his head. “There are systems in place for matters of national security. If that was the case, this situation would never have gotten to where it is now.”
“Those systems were in place. And those secrets weren’t supposed to ever reach the light of day. You’ve no idea how many lives you put at risk.”
“I don’t know if you know this, A.J.” Sam’s lips tried to form a reassuring smile, but they were struggling to find anchorage. “I’m acting under orders from the Secretary of Defense, so whoever it is you’re upset about, it’s not me.”
A.J. remained silent. Sam couldn’t tell whether the man hadn’t heard him correctly or was choosing to ignore him.
The second hatch opened.
A.J. smiled. “Welcome aboard the USS Jimmy Carter. This is commander Dylan Brooks.”
Sam’s eyes drifted down the ladder, landing on a surly man of approximately forty-five years old. He stood with the solid confident authority of one who’d spent plenty of time in command.
“Sam Reilly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m commander Brooks.” Brooks ran his eyes across his prisoner. “You’ve no idea how much damage you’ve caused today, have you, son?”
“No, sir,” Sam replied. He’d been in the marines a long time ago, and met the commander’s type before. There was no logical reason to get into an argument with him.
“Well. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Sam exhaled a deep breath. “You know there’s a terrorist holding Washington, D.C. to ransom with a World War II German nuclear bomb, don’t you? He’s targeted me, for reasons that I don’t understand, to play a game with him. Diving the Clarion Call was part of that game.”
The commander shook his head in disgust. “Son, you have no idea what game’s being played here.”
“So what is being played here?”
The commander’s eyes narrowed. “Someone has you digging into secrets — dangerous secrets — that were never meant to be revealed.”
Sam said, “Sometimes the truth is important.”
“And sometimes it’s dangerous as hell. When it comes to national security, the human race is too important to be trifled with over honesty,” the commander countered.
Sam kept his mouth shut. He could see this conversation had no chance of going anywhere he hoped it might go.
The commander turned to A.J. “We need to get underway. What’s taking so long?”
One of the SEALs apologized. “Sorry, sir. I lost three men back there after their air supplies were destroyed. They swam to the surface. I’ve sent the rescue unit out to retrieve them. They won’t be long.”
“Understood. Let me know as soon as they’re inside. I’ve orders to take Sam Reilly to the Joint Base Anacostia — Bolling. There is someone who needs to speak to him in private, right away.”
Sam was handcuffed, his wrists in front of him.
A.J. said, “Sorry, but a nuclear submarine can be a dangerous place to let a man loose.”
Sam nodded. “I understand. Some might have thought it would have been easier to not bring me in at all?”
“Nothing personal,” A.J. replied. “We’ve got our orders.”
Sam said, “Sure. And I have mine.”
A.J. ignored him, disappearing down a separate gangway, while a SEAL lead Sam down the gangway and into the junior officer’s quarters. Two guards stood at the doorway. Sam stretched out on one of the small beds. It might be a long wait, may as well get some rest.
He closed his eyes. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since this thing had begun, and he hadn’t stopped. He was so dead tired, nothing could keep him awake much longer.
Outside his makeshift prison, someone made the comment, “They’re inside the flooded lockout chamber now.”
“Good,” came the curt reply. “I’ll order us underway, while they blow the water. No reason to delay our meeting at Joint Base Anacostia — Bolling.”
Sam was nearly asleep — his heavily burdened mind, giving way to fatigue. In the back of his mind, he heard footsteps move quickly down the lockout chamber’s ladder. Those same footsteps moved quickly toward his make-shift prison.
A commanding voice that sounded vaguely familiar, asked, “Where are you holding Sam Reilly?”
“Who are you?” came the startled reply.
“No one you wanna mess with,” Tom answered. “Now where are you keeping Sam Reilly?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Gunshots followed.
Several shots in rapid succession. Most likely fired by an MP5 submachinegun. Followed by the sound of boots on the metal grate that formed the platform, echoed down the narrow confines of the gangway.
That was enough to make Sam sit up. “I’m here!”
Tom hunched his large frame under a solid bulkhead. “Ah, there you are. We’ve been waiting for ages for you to finish up down here and make your way to the surface.”