literally hundreds of millions of human beings living under the threat of nuclear extinction because of that submarine. We could have stopped it. We could have ended it seven hours ago. When you’re going over your list of reasons to hate the Navy, add that to your list of things to think about.”
“Wait just a freaking second,” Ann snapped. “You think I did this on
Bowie lowered his voice. “I don’t know.
“It was an
“The mistake was
He pushed his chair back from the table, and walked to the door. He reached for the doorknob.
“You’re so full of shit,” Ann said. “Do you know that?”
Bowie spoke over his shoulder. His words were quietly icy. “We’re finished with your services,” he said. “I’m calling for a helicopter to pick you and Mr. Miggs up as soon as possible. I don’t want you on my ship any more.”
Ann felt a lump rising in her throat. This man — this idiot — wouldn’t even listen to her.
“You’re so full of shit,” she said again. Her voice was shaky now. “What happened to that song and dance you were giving me when we were trying to rescue the
She felt a hot tear roll down her cheek. “Well guess what, Mr. Captain, sir? Mouse is
Captain Bowie stood without speaking for several seconds. Then he released the doorknob and turned around. “I
He walked back toward the table. “Maybe I
“You
Bowie smiled ruefully. “I’m willing to stipulate that, for the moment. But I’ll have to ask you not to voice that particular sentiment in front of my crew.”
He sat back down in his chair. “Where do we go from here?”
Ann wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “We try again,” she said. “I upload the patch to Mouse’s program code, and — as soon as the sun goes down — we put him back in the water and start over.”
“Do you really think that’s going to work?” Bowie asked.
“Mouse found your damned submarine before,” Ann said. “He can find it again.”
CHAPTER 51
Gunnery Sergeant Armstrong crouched behind an ice hommock about forty yards from the device, and watched through binoculars as Staff Sergeant Myers and Corporal Hicks backed away from the explosive charge buried at the 8 o’clock position. Gunny wasn’t looking at Myers or Hicks, who were both easily visible without the binoculars. He was examining the ice around their feet, looking for any sign of booby traps that might have been missed during the initial recon.
Myers and Hicks moved slowly and cautiously, taking care not to disturb the twisted pair of wires that connected the shaped-charge to the initiator, about fifty feet away. Myers was scanning the snowy terrain with a Foerster Mark-26, moving in as straight a line as the rugged surface of the ice pack would permit. Hicks was his observer and assistant, providing a second set of eyes and hands as they were needed.
The Mk-26 was a fluxgate magnetic gradiometer; it could locate hidden metal objects by detecting the fluctuations they caused in the earth’s magnetic field. Myers and Hicks were nearly finished with the magnetic sweep. They’d already done the visual sweep, the infrared sweep, and sampled the air down-wind of the device using a hand-held Fido detector to sniff for vapors and residue: the telltale molecular traces given off by explosive chemicals.
This was the last step of the secondary reconnaissance. Gunny Armstrong had performed the initial recon himself, with Sergeant Travers covering observe and assist. He was confident that he had the configuration of the device thoroughly sussed out.
Myers was performing the entire recon again, to be certain that Gunny hadn’t missed anything on the first pass. Gunny didn’t expect him to find anything new, but the procedures laid out by the 60 Series EOD manuals were clear: two separate reconnaissance sweeps, conducted by two pairs of qualified Explosive Ordnance Disposal technicians. There were exceptions to the rule, in time-urgent operations, or when there weren’t enough techs available. But Gunny’s team had the personnel and the time. They were going to do it by the book.
The device itself was relatively straightforward. Six shaped-charges were spaced evenly around the perimeter of a large circle, maybe a hundred feet in diameter, all wired to an initiator package in the middle of the circle.
Gunny and Myers had both scanned the initiator using an RTR-4 real-time x-ray unit. The package appeared to consist of two modules of electronic circuits, housed in an insulated enclosure about the size of a shoebox. There were no indications of explosive charges in or near the enclosure.
A Kevlar-jacketed cable led from the package into a hole drilled in the ice. Short of trying to dig it out, which Gunny’s team was
Of more immediate importance, Gunny hadn’t found any booby traps anywhere around the charges or the initiator package. No motion sensors, no proximity detectors, and no anti-tamper devices. Whoever had planted these explosives had apparently depended on secrecy and the remote location for protection. It would have worked too, Gunny figured, if some intelligence bubba hadn’t gotten his hands on the rough coordinates of the devices. Somebody with inside knowledge had talked.
Myers and Hicks finished the Mk-26 sweep, and backed away from the device until they were well clear of the danger area. Then they made their way across the ice to Gunny’s position, Myers still carrying the L-shaped magnetic sensor.
The wind wasn’t blowing very hard, but it had a whistling quality that made conversation difficult, so Myers leaned in close and spoke loudly. “Secondary recon is complete, Gunny. No big surprises. I count six shaped-charges of roughly thirty pounds each. Cyclohexyl-based plastic explosives. The Fido samples called out cyclic nitramine with high mercury content. Looks like Russian military-grade RDX to me.”
Gunny nodded. He’d gotten the same readings. “Continue.”
“All six charges are wired to a central initiator, enclosed in an insulated housing. On the RTR-4, it looks like a couple of blocks of electronics, connected to each other, to the charges, and to a cable that runs down through the
