him, he seemed to shimmer, to merge with the advanced electronics and computers that made up the heart of his sonar gear.
Jacobs seemed to anticipate Pencehaven’s every thought, and was always one step ahead of him, adjusting volumes, refining track frequencies, handling all the details from his side of the console while leaving Otter free to perform his black magic. The chief, wisely, simply stepped back and let them work.
Suddenly, Otter stiffened. He stopped breathing, and glanced over at Jacobs. Jacobs turned pale. “Captain, the aft ship is picking up speed. Look.” A few microseconds after Jacobs spoke, the lines displayed on Otter’s console shifted slightly.
“How much?” the captain demanded.
“Two, maybe three knots. I don’t know what she’s thinking — if she keeps this up without a course change, she’s going to hazard the vessel in front of us.”
“It may be temporary,” Otter said, speaking for the first time since falling in between the two behemoths. “Closing the distance, maybe traffic coming up behind her. Wait,” he finished, and shut his eyes, held his breath for about twenty seconds. Then he opened his eyes and said, “Yes, that’s it exactly. There’s another ship behind them coming into fast, and they’re giving her some room. But it sounds like it will pass well to the west of us.”
“Orders, captain?” the XO asked.
“Take us slightly to the east, just slightly. I don’t want to bottom down, nor do I want to be crushed. And bring us up to match speeds with the stern contact,” the captain ordered. Almost immediately, he could feel the vibrations under his feet change as the submarine added two knots to her speed.
The captain glanced over at Otter. He looked relaxed, but then Otter usually did. “That do it?”
Otter nodded. “Should, Captain. I don’t hear anything new ahead of us, and I think it will… yes. She’s slowing back down, Captain. We can slow back down and maintain station.”
The captain breathed a sigh of relief.
For the next four hours and ten minutes — and it actually turned out to be fifteen minutes, but the captain did not hold that against the navigator — the captain paced between Sonar, the control room, and the navigator’s chart table, keeping a careful eye on everything. Powder retained the officer of the deck position the entire time as well, and his smooth, competent voice giving rudder and conning orders did much to steady the nerves of the crew. By the time they cleared the Straits, it had become absurdly routine, this ponderous underwater dance between the submarine and the two surface ships.
Finally, when they were able to open distance on the merchant ships and head for slightly deeper water, everyone on the crew breathed a sigh of relief. That they would ever consider three hundred feet of water a safe haven would have been absurd under any other circumstances. But after what they had been through for the last four hours, it was exactly the case.
“Engineering, this is the Captain. Any change in hull integrity on damage control status?” Bellisanus held his breath. After their daring submerged transit, his major concern was the damaged sonar dome and the noise it generated.
“No change, Captain,” the engineer replied. “We’re still watertight.”
“And now,” the captain said, “Let’s get down to business.” He turned back to navigator. “You have the search pattern laid in?”
The navigator nodded. “First leg, come left to course 270, speed five knots,” he advised. “Leg length thirty minutes.”
For the next twenty-four hours, the submarine would execute a silent search of this part of the water. And when the carrier was ready to inchop,
THIRTEEN
The large Aeroflot jet traveled down the runway, awkward and ungainly now that it was on the ground. A few streaks of rust showed on its side, and there was a trickle of hydraulic fluid from one engine.
Wadi contemplated it gravely. Perhaps not the best aircraft, but then again, there were no Iranians riding in it. It would do for the cargo it transported, in some ways more precious than gold or oil.
The aircraft finally came to a halt near the hastily erected terminal building. A boarding ladder was pushed up to it as the hatch opened. Two security guards came down the ladder and stood guard as the aircraft disgorged a flood of civilian technicians.
The heat hit them like a physical blow. While many parts of Russia were not hospitable, there was not much in the world that could match the baking sun in the Middle East.
Wadi’s assistant stepped forward. He spread his arms wide in a gesture of welcome. “We are very glad to see you, my friends. Very glad indeed.”
Ilya Gromko, the leader of the group stepped forward. “Thank you. If we could perhaps get out of the heat, we can discuss the progress schedule. My men are eager to get to work.”
He led the way into the terminal building, where they were rewarded with an icy blast of air-conditioning, then they crowded into the room. “All work will be done, of course, in air-conditioned bunkers,” Wadi said.
“For investments, if you like. Especially hardened.” He paused to let this reminder to the man that they were in dangerous territory. “Do you anticipate any additional problems?”
“No. Not as long as we can get the parts,” Gromko said.
“Oh, that will not be a problem,” Wadi assured him. “My government has the most cordial of relationships with yours.”
“I have reviewed the production schedules. Most impressive.”
The Russian leader grunted. “It’s not anything we are not used to. The stories I could tell… well, I shall not bore you. We will conduct our preliminary assessment this evening. After that, I will assign six men per aircraft. An assembly line, three days per aircraft. I would estimate no more than two weeks to have all the aircraft operationally ready. Do you have sufficient pilots to fly them?”
Wadi drew himself up straight. The man was offensive, intolerably so. Yet for the time being, he needed his help.
Of course he had the necessary pilots, all of them eager to join battle. They had the benefit of the most advanced training, tutors, and the instructors who attended the U.S. Navy’s best school decades ago. And as for the skills they did not possess now, well, there was no shortage of combat instructors for a nation as wealthy as Iran. And if that didn’t work, there was always the threat of their biological weapons.
But for now, he must allow the insult to pass. He yearned for the day when he no longer needed these man nor their talented hands and spare parts. And most assuredly the Soviet Union — Russia — would be offended if he executed them for offenses that would have warranted execution had they been citizens.
Oh, but someday soon, they would pay. And pay dearly. After Iran took its place in the civilized world as a superpower once again.
FOURTEEN
