Silent Thunder

She picked up a stool and swung it toward a small speaker mounted over the hatch. She struck it repeatedly until the speaker housing splintered and the coil dangled from the bulkhead, gripped the magnet in her hands, and yanked it free. 'Keep your radio on. I'm heading up.'

Pavski turned the steering wheel and spun into the marina parking lot two miles south of the maritime museum. He glanced at the harbor, where the Silent Thunder's conning tower receded into the distance.

Koppel peered though his binoculars. 'They're heading straight out to sea. If they manage to submerge…'

'They won't. They don't have the equipment or manpower to pull that off. It's a miracle they managed to get it out there.' He leaped from the van and ran to the gangway, his gaze frantically scanning the marina for the right boat.

Slow-as-molasses sailboats, pleasure craft, and houseboats.

Nothing fast enough, he realized with frustration. He needed power and speed and enough space for him and his men. Not these pussy-

Wait a second.

There, only twenty yards in front of him, a narrow-beam powerboat stood at the ready.

Perfect.

Hannah climbed the narrow conning tower tube, holding the magnets she had torn from three different speakers on the way up.

Diesel fumes. Thick, nauseating.

The alarm sirens pounded her brain.

Keep steady…

She adjusted her headset. 'Support team, do you read me?'

Kirov responded. 'May I point out that I'm the one standing on the bridge? Now you're the support team.'

'I stand corrected. Is the navigational computer receiving magnetic compass readings from the repeaters?'

'Affirmative.'

She climbed up the ladder until she found herself facing the sub's magnetic compass module. Surrounded by metal coils to shield it from stray magnetic forces of the hull, this compass was generally only used early in the sub's voyages. The more accurate gyroscopic compass took several hours to calibrate itself after powering up. This was the only game in town.

One of her first recommendations had been to remove the compass and place it in the exhibit building, where it could be more easily seen by museumgoers. Thank goodness the crew hadn't gotten to it yet.

Hooking one foot around the railing for balance, she leaned forward and placed several magnets on its metallic face.

'The readings are fluctuating,' Kirov said.

'Good. Longitude or latitude?'

'Both, but mostly longitude.'

Hannah shifted a magnet down an inch. 'This will be like cracking a safe. I'm going to move the magnets around until we get to forty-one-point-five degrees longitude. Understand?'

'Yes. We're way off right now-about eighty-five degrees north.'

Hannah moved the magnets left. 'How about now?'

'Better. Seventy-two degrees.'

Hannah continued to move the magnet as Kirov called out: 'Sixty-three… fifty-eight… fifty-one… forty-seven… forty-three… stop! You've got it.'

Hannah tore off a piece of the chewing gum in her mouth. She affixed it to the magnet and stuck it to the compass housing. 'Are we still okay?'

'It's drifting.'

'That's because we're moving. I'll make more adjustments after I get the latitude. Ready?'

Kirov was silent for a moment. 'Make it fast, Hannah. Pavski and his men have a boat. They're approaching from the stern.'

The salt water sprayed Pavski's face as the powerboat neared the Silent Thunder. He pointed to the conning tower. 'Watch up there,' he shouted over the engines. 'If we're going to be fired on, it'll be from the tower.'

Koppel turned from the wheel. 'Where should we approach?'

'At the stern. There are cleats to tie off there. We'll climb on top, plant the charges, and blow the rear escape hatch. Got it?'

Koppel nodded, staring ahead at the dark leviathan cutting through the water. 'It's amazing.'

'What?'

'There's still life in that old sub. I didn't know she had it in her.'

'It's a relic,' Pavski said. 'Just like Kirov.'

Koppel eased back on the throttle as they pulled alongside the Silent Thunder's massive tail fins. The sub's engine knocked and rattled, and the pungent smoke of burned diesel fuel wafted over them.

'Take the rope and snag one of those cleats.'

It took two tries, but one of the sailors managed to do it.

'Good!' Pavski yelled over the engine. 'Pull us closer.'

A moment later they were bumping against the hull and tying off the rope.

Pavski picked up his two backpacks and tossed them onto the Silent Thunder's topside deck.

'The three of you climb aboard,' Koppel said. 'I'll keep the boat steady.'

Pavski shot him a cold glance. 'I need you in there too, Koppel.'

'After you're on, I'll cut the engines and climb aboard myself. Go!'

As they left the relatively calm waters of the harbor, Pavski and the others jumped from the boat and used a series of small crevices in the Silent Thunder's rubbery acoustic coating to pull themselves up to the top deck. 'Careful. The seas are getting rougher.'

Koppel cut the powerboat's ignition and climbed up to join them. 'Aren't the hatches stronger than the rest of the sub?' he shouted.

Pavski was already digging into his knapsack for the explosive charges. 'Trust me, two of these charges on the devices on the rear hatch will put us face-to-face with Kirov in less than five minutes.'

Hannah wiped the sweat from her eyes as she adjusted the magnets again. Dammit, she couldn't manipulate the compass to read the correct longitude and latitude simultaneously.

'Give it up,' Kirov said over the radio. 'It was always a long shot.'

'I can't give it up. Pavski's not going to get that cradle. If I can just move it another few degrees…'

'We're out of time. Pavski and his men will be charging down the corridor at any moment. I have to be ready for them. I can't focus on this any longer.'

'Keep your eyes on that monitor. Where's the compass at?'

'The longitude is still three degrees shy. Forget it.'

'Please. Just another few seconds.'

'We don't have any seconds to spare. You're through.'

'What about now?'

'Hannah, stop it. We need to-'

Kirov's voice went silent.

Hannah held the magnets in place, not daring to breathe. 'Hello?'

Kirov's voice finally broke the silence. 'Good God.'

Kirov stared at the navigational computer's amber screen. One moment, Hannah's generated 41.5 degrees longitude/112 degrees latitude had filled the screen, in the next an entirely different set of coordinates popped up: