Chapter Sixteen
A tempest swirled in John Brody’s mind. An encrypted order had just dashed his hopes of returning home to reconstruct his marriage. Instead, he had to whip the Miami into shape to race battle-ready toward an unknown point in the ocean. His squadron commodore had awakened him with a phone call to confirm that the order came from Admiral Mesher himself.
“Okay, Admiral Mesher. Let’s see what you’ve got me doing out here,” Brody said.
From his personal safe, he pulled a codebook that contained a simple one-for-one character exchange that varied daily. He thumbed through to ‘May 11th’ and placed his message through a second decryption.
The first lines of text revealed that the message was an operational order from the Chief of Naval Operations. The content told him he was tasked to hunt his best friend, Jake Slate.
He climbed the stairs to the control room. His weapons officer stood as Officer of the Deck.
“Captain, the ship is rigged for dive, crossing the dive point. The control party has reviewed the shallow water diving procedure.”
Brody gave permission to submerge. The Miami spewed white foam from its ballast tanks and slipped into the ocean. An experienced crew shifted water about the boat and settled the Miami with methodic control under the surface of the Atlantic.
“Officer of the Deck, shift the reactor to high-speed pumps. Increase ship’s speed to flank. Come to course one four zero,” Brody said.
The weapons officer looked back at him through Coke-bottle glasses.
“Sir, it’s my duty to remind you that our speed and depth combination are in violation of this vessel’s submerged operations safety parameters.”
“Weapons officer, have the Quartermaster annotate in the deck log that I’m authorizing violation of the submerged operations envelope. After that, announce that there is a meeting in the wardroom for all officers. When you hear what this mission is really about, you’ll understand.”
*
Jake’s memory of the attacking jets had blurred. He remembered being scared and feeling lucky to be alive. Stuck in a ship with a squad of commandos and a mysterious Frenchman, he felt alone. He distracted himself with tactics and thought about the jagged metallic edges on his damaged sail creating babbling broadband flow noise. He grabbed a microphone.
“Maneuvering, control room, make turns for eight knots.”
“Jake,” Renard said, “I bit my tongue as you drove us into the sea floor. You must make calls in a crisis, and I’m betting my life that you’re capable. But I prefer that you confer with me on tactical decisions.”
“You’re the one who wanted to slow last time we talked about it.”
“That was hours ago,” Renard said.
“Look, Renard,” Jake said, “It’s my ship and my call.”
“But I’m an authority figure for the Taiwanese. We cannot afford to have them see you and me divided. I should be involved with decisions. And please, in private, call me Pierre.”
“Okay, Pierre. I’ll confer with you when I can, but at the end of the day it’s my ship, and I make the decisions.”
“But you must agree that when you’re sleeping and I’m on watch, you will have to deal with my decisions. And I mean more than just with tactics. I have influence with the Taiwanese aboard this vessel. You must appreciate that.”
“You may know these commando killers, but even you can’t keep the reactor running long term,” Jake said. “Only I understand this pig completely. If you or any of these commando goons mess with me, you’ll find yourselves floating in a coffin you don’t understand.”
To his chagrin, Jake realized just how much his French companion enjoyed arguing.
“I agree that you have knowledge of this ship that I will never have, but I’m capable of learning the reactor plant. I’ve learned several before. It might take me time to understand its basic operations, but I can do it.”
“Enough to go under the ice?” Jake asked.
“No, but I could deviate from our plan and go the long way around South Africa. I merely wish to point out that your power over me is not absolute.”
Renard inhaled from his Marlboro.
“I only recruit people whom I can respect and trust,” Renard said. “I wish that you could trust me. By ignoring my counsel and suspecting my every move, you place this entire ship at risk.”
*
While Mike Gant roamed the engine room and shifted machinery to slower, quieter modes of operation, Jake entered maneuvering and addressed David Bass.
“I know you could do this yourself, but I thought I’d give you some moral support. You’ve been kicking butt back here, by the way,” Jake said.
“Thanks,” Bass said. “Are we crazy?”
“We’re crazy to the tune of millions. Just do what I tell you and we’ll get through this. Shift the reactor to natural circulation.”
Bass’ belly jiggled as he pulled handles upward. Pumps shut off within the reactor, extinguishing the Colorado’s power-driven reactor coolant flow. Pressurized water in the core heated up, rose via convection to steam generators, released energy, and fell back into the core. The natural, heat-driven convection drove cooling water through the core with a whisper.
“I’m going back up front,” Jake said. “You’ll have to keep things cool back here. Remember to watch the xenon build up. I don’t want this plant shutting itself down.”
*
The P-3 Orion that had been scrambled from Jacksonville ascertained the Colorado’s course of one-four-zero, to the southeast, moving between seven and nine knots. It dropped its last sonobuoy and turned for shore as its fuel gauge dipped into its reserves.
A P-3 Orion from Puerto Rico fully loaded with fuel, sonobuoys, and torpedoes reached the Colorado. The P-3’s hot-swapped data, and track on the Trident stayed solid during the exchange. At sunrise, a sonar technician became alarmed as he sipped from his cup of coffee. The crisp, baritone whine of the Colorado’s reactor coolant pumps had disappeared.
*
President Ryder heard the CNO’s gritty voice.
“The Colorado has slowed and secured her reactor coolant pumps,” Mesher said. “Our P-3 Orion has lost contact but is trying to regain it.”
“How does this affect our ability to track the Colorado?” Ryder asked
“The silent operations confirm that the hijackers don’t want us to find them, but the reduced speed works to our advantage in letting the Miami reach the Colorado sooner.”
“What if we can’t regain control?” Ryder asked.
The Air Force Chief of Staff lashed out.
“We need to sink that ship! This is already an unacceptable risk. That submarine could be minutes away from launching missiles.”
“Impossible!” Mesher said. “A team of experts couldn’t bypass the safeguards, and the Miami is on station and will take control of the situation. We were caught off guard but have responded flawlessly. I’m sending capable people to deal with this. Let them do their jobs.”