H.M.S. Unseen

understandably, he did not seem inclined to do.

The admiral moved in very quickly. “Commander Adnam, there is no submarine in the world equipped to fire short-range, accurate, surface-to-air missiles fast enough to bring down a supersonic aircraft. How and where did you convert HMS Unseen to possess this capability?”

“We did it at sea, out in the Atlantic near the equator in the doldrums.”

“What kind of missile system?”

“Russian in origin. But we did not get it directly from them.”

“Exactly what missile system, and who did you get it from?”

“That information is for sale only, sir. Not for money, you understand. For my life.”

“How did you know it would work? Did you test it?”

“Yessir.”

“Where?”

“Down in the marshes in the south of my country, east of Qal At Salih.”

“How?”

“We test-fired four down there. Then once more in the Gulf on live aircraft. Pilotless, of course.”

“Of course. Perish the thought you should kill someone.” Admiral Morgan was trying unsuccessfully to avoid the sardonic.

“Did you hit it?”

“The test was successful, sir.”

“How did you make such a huge alteration to a submarine out in the ocean?”

“It was not huge, sir. We simply modified the regular radar in the boat to locate the target at long range. We then had ample information to fire the missiles into a steady, oncoming target at a known cruising height. The actual launcher was bolted onto the deck, behind the fin.” Adnam spoke his apparent secrets with the finesse of a man who knew his captors were going to find out anyway. And he added, as an apparent statement of good faith, “I could show you how to achieve something similar anytime, should you decide to work with me.”

“Thank you, Commander.” But the admiral turned to Bill, and speaking as if there was no one else in the barn, he exclaimed, “Can you believe this crap? I’m just getting a high-tech lesson in submarine weapons conversions from a fucking Marsh Arab…Jesus Christ.”

Everyone laughed. Even Adnam. “Sir, I’m not from the marshes. My home is farther up the Tigris on the edge of the desert.”

“Oh, Jesus, yes…so it is. The situation just fucking worsened…I’m being told how to put an advanced weapon onto an American nuclear boat by a fucking Bedouin.”

Then he turned back to the Iraqi. “Right,” he muttered. “Now listen, I know you’re probably some fucking Von Braun of the Desert, but I wanna dead straight answer, right here…did you really lower that huge missile launcher over the side of a supply ship on a crane and manhandle it into position, seal it, and sail for the North Atlantic?”

“Yessir. Yes we did. In less than two days.”

“Jesus Christ. Whose idea was it?”

“Mine, sir.”

“How did you come up with such an invention?”

“It was not an invention, sir. The Israelis came up with it several years ago. And they had such a system made and tested. I merely stole a copy of the plans back in 1999 and adapted their ideas on a much grander scale.”

“Was that HMS Aeneas?” asked the admiral, displaying as usual his encyclopedic memory for ships and previous conversations.

“Yessir. Yes it was.”

“Hmmmm. And then, what…you just set off for the Atlantic and sat there on 30 West awaiting your prey?… And how did you get away? To Scotland?”

“Again, sir. That information is for sale. Also, I have no intention of informing you of anything that may incriminate me with another country.”

“In your shoes, pal, I’d dispense with the formalities and start trying to make a few allies. Before I agree to anything I’m gonna need a lot of information. Give this bastard some coffee someone, while I confer with my former employee.”

The admiral and Bill walked out of the barn together, leaving everyone else inside except the Marine corporal on guard outside the door.

“Okay,” he said to the former lieutenant commander, “he’s telling the truth so far, right? But I really want to know more about how Iraq got that Kilo in 2002, and how they got that Upholder out of Plymouth…Christ, to the best of my knowledge no one has ever stolen a submarine before. At least not from a major Naval power. And this man has stolen two!”

“Well, he said he would not tell us anything that would incriminate him outside the U.S. I suppose we can’t blame him for that. I think we should try him on the technical problem of driving the submarine, training the men, and above all, what the Iraqis now plan…and where the hell they are taking Unseen right now.”

“I’ll try him on the theft, but he’ll duck that, I’d guess. The real issue for me is, who’s driving it now and where the hell is it?”

They walked back inside the barn, and Arnold Morgan returned immediately to the fray. ”You wanna tell me how you got the submarine out of Plymouth?”

“I drove it, sir.”

“How many crew did you have?”

“Forty, sir.”

“All Iraqi?”

“Yessir.”

“Who trained them to drive a British Upholder-Class diesel-electric?”

“I did, sir.”

“Where?”

“Iraq, sir.”

“How?”

“I used a full-scale model.”

“Who built it?”

“We did, sir?”

“Based on what?”

“Plans, sir. Plans of the Upholder-Class.”

“Where did they come from?”

“I presume England, sir. I was never told.”

“What do you mean, you were never told? How did you know they were genuine?”

“Because I’ve driven an Upholder-Class boat, in Scotland, and I know they were.”

“What about all the Brazilians on board? How did you get rid of them?”

“I won’t incriminate myself with another nation, sir.”

“How about the Royal Navy officers? What happened to them? Are they still alive?”

“I won’t incriminate myself…”

“Yeah I know,” interrupted the admiral. “How did you get into the exercise area, and out again, without being discovered for thirty-six hours?”

“I found the Orders in the CO’s office, and I just kept sending in the right signals at the right time.”

“Jesus H. Christ! This is unbelievable. How far from the area were you when you decided to miss the diving signal?”

“About 300 miles.”

“And from there you just headed south, around South Africa and back to the Gulf of Iran?”

“Nossir.”

“Whadya mean, NOSSIR? Did you take Unseen into the Gulf of Iran?”