Tidal Rip

von Scheer to break contact so that von Scheer can continue east unmolested, closer to Africa. We know now that in the bigger strategic picture, the South American front is as important as, or even more important than, Africa. And the Germans have known it for some time. Presumably since before the von Scheer sailed.”

“You mean—” the DCI said.

“Yes,” Hodgkiss said. “Now it all fits. Von Scheer was thwarted at the Rocks…. Dammit. Ernst Beck isn’t goingeast. That’s why Captain Fuller can’t find him…. He’s heading west, toward South America, this very minute. That’s why Beck led Fuller on that merry chase, then raised his wall of detonations. And that’s how the Germans intend to get the A-bomb warheads to their opportunist friends in Argentina.”

Hodgkiss got up and went to the globe in the corner. He spun it until it showed the South Atlantic. He ran his finger along the globe, almost angrily.

“I see it, all of it.” He made eye contact with the national security adviser. “Beck will cut two sides of a triangle as fast as he possibly can: the Rocks to Buenos Aires, then Buenos Aires across the South Atlantic to the Congo basin. Meanwhile our convoy will cut the third side of the triangle, see? Through the Narrows, past the Rocks, and straight for the Congo basin pocket… Von Scheer runs the errand to Argentina, then scoots over to take the convoy from the rear, completing the triangle and also creating the far end of a big pincers. The convoy gets sandwiched between the von Scheer on one side and the massed Axis U-boats and land-based forces on the other, the worst conceivable setup from our point of view. And the more time goes by, the more and more likely the German and Boer land offensive will open, too.”

“Oh boy,” the DCI said. “The von Scheer’s the perfect transport vehicle, isn’t she? One missile tube could hold dozens of atom-bomb warheads, all nicely gift wrapped for the opposition faction in Buenos Aires. Then the Germans step back and wash their hands, and watch as Latin America explodes in our face, literally. Atomic war on land by Third World countries, an entire new front to America’s south…”

“Something else just fell into place for me,” the national security adviser said. “Even Germany wouldn’t give nuclear weapons to a neutral country unprovoked. They’d know the connection couldn’t be hidden forever, and history would be the judge, and the sick hypocrites are always outward sticklers for the letter of international law…. So Germany must know something we don’t know. They must have their own proof that Brazil has the bomb.”

Hodgkiss nodded slowly and soberly.

The national security adviser and Hodgkiss locked eyes. “We’ve absolutely got to keep the von Scheer from delivering,” she said. “How do we warn Captain Fuller? Is he even the right guy to use?”

“Challenger is already tasked to prosecute von Scheer. She’s still the closest sub we have to von Scheer’s probable track. She’s by far the only one fast enough, deep-diving enough, stealthy enough, to get in range and kill von Scheer with adequate odds of success. To order a different sub after von Scheer, instead of Fuller, could be tantamount to sending good men to a useless death.”

Hodgkiss grabbed the phone and reached his aide. “ELF message, override anything else in the queue. Recipient address is Challenger, confirm hull number seven seven eight. Message is the cipher block for ‘Come to two-way floating-wire-antenna depth and trail the wire….’We’ll just have to hope we can both burn through all the jamming.”

Hodgkiss held the phone and turned to Ilse. “Might Fuller ignore the message if he thinks we’re only distracting him?”

“He very well might,” she answered honestly.

Hodgkiss spoke into the phone. “Append to message the cipher block for ‘Imperative order, no recourse, Commander U.S. Atlantic Fleet sends.’”

The admiral almost hung up the phone, but then gave his aide more orders. “Get whichever carrier’s closest now to send a medevac helo to the Rocks to pick up the injured SEALs from that cargo-ship hulk. Lots of ice and drinking water, electrolyte packs, the works, they’ll be dropping from heat stress by now, even the guys without wounds. Get an Osprey to haul a mobile radiological decontamination unit. On an underfuselage sling. They can set the trailer down on the ruined lighthouse…. Raise Challenger’s minisub. Radio, signal sonobuoy, whatever it takes. Tell the mini to close on the Rocks and recover all able-bodied SEALs. Then they head south to deeper water and prepare to dock inside Challenger…. You see what I’m getting at. Take it from there.”

Again Hodgkiss almost hung up, then spoke to his aide. “I want another Orpheus station established, on Ascension Island. Pronto, smartly, yesterday. The Brits own it; the Royal Navy liaison is in the building somewhere, track him down and get their help. Their Special Boat Squadron boys can make the hookups. Ascension has a decent cable net to help us monitor the South Atlantic for von Scheer.” The admiral hung up.

The director of central intelligence looked around the room. “What if we guessed wrong? What if it is a giant German trap, or double bluff, after all? What if von Scheer is still going toward Africa now? We’re taking by far our most powerful antisubmarine asset, Challenger, our only ceramic-hulled sub, and we throw her away on a wild-goose chase to nowhere and beyond. The enemy gets the convoy and escorts in a pincers soon, with the U-boats and their land offensive on one side and von Scheer on the other. It’ll be a perfect nutcracker, a bloodbath, with Challenger on a fool’s errand to the wrong continent.”

“We can’t have things both ways at once, Director.” Hodgkiss stared very hard at the globe. “If we guessed wrong, ladies and gentlemen, I think we just lost the war, and the Allies will have to offer the Axis an armistice…. But if we guessed right, and Captain Fuller fails and Ernst Beck sinks him off South America, we’re looking at Armageddon itself.”

CHAPTER 25

Two days later, off the east coast of Brazil, Jeffrey Fuller sat in his control room, tense and exhausted. The lighting was rigged for red. He’d set the main menus on his console to feed his screens each status page in turn, changing every ten seconds. The constant updating, and the simple stimulation of such movement on his console, helped him stay awake.

Jeffrey had been awake for over forty-eight hours continuously — since before his two-way conversation with Norfolk, when Admiral Hodgkiss issued him new orders at the Rocks, and the subsequent recovery of the minisub with Felix and a handful of SEALs.

Jeffrey was still pissed off at himself. Ernst Beck had gotten him completely confused and left him looking like a fool, tagged as the weakest link in a complex and vital strategic situation.

This Beck is better than I thought.

Jeffrey turned and glanced at Bell sitting next to him. The younger man looked fresh, rested, and recently shaved.

At least he’s had the common sense to grab some sleep and take a shower. I’m falling into old bad habits, trying to keep an eye on everything every minute during a hunt for our adversary….

“I hope we’re doing the right thing, XO,” he said quietly. As he spoke he could tell how much his whole body and mind dragged from fatigue. His arms seemed much too heavy. His head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton.

“Captain?” Bell’s voice was deep and confident, and the whole set of his face was different than it had been in the past. He seemed more mature but not worn down internally, more centered within himself, more evenly balanced as a person, than on previous deployments with Jeffrey on the ship.

“I tried to be unpredictable at the Rocks. Unpredictable for me. Look where it got