NORTH ATLANTIC
HURRICANE TILDY—THE EYE
Jack pulled up a sputtering Charlie Ellenshaw. He had yanked him up by his floating white hair to the surface, where both men spit out salt water and tried their best to stay afloat. Collins looked around as heads began to bob to the surface of the softly rolling sea.
The last thing of the Night Owl he saw was the tail boom as it slid beneath the water. He spied Jason Ryan soon afterward surface with a gagging and spitting copilot of the V-25. Then he saw Henri and Carl as they assisted the Royal Marines. Collins and Charlie swam toward Ryan.
“Any other crew get out?” he shouted.
Ryan made sure the copilot was all right and then turned to face Jack. “No, I couldn’t find the master chief, either.”
Suddenly, the water erupted next to them as Jenks surfaced. He pulled heavily on something, and then the frightened face of the Royal Navy pilot came into view. He threw up seawater as Jenks pulled off his flight helmet.
“Come on, breathe, you limey bastard!”
Finally, the pilot took a deep breath and then vomited again.
“That’s it. You’ll live.”
“You always act surprised when your plans go straight to hell. Flying through a hurricane usually means bad things to the rest of the world, but you Americans always think you can pull off the impossible.”
Jack looked over at a drenched and bleeding Henri Farbeaux. “Glad to see you made it, Henri.”
Collins started counting the heads that were visible. He stopped at thirty-six. That meant they had lost seventeen men. He slapped the water angrily, as he knew that whoever had fired that missile was now in deep debt with the Royal Navy.
“We lost one hell of a lot of people, Jack.”
Collins looked over and saw Everett. He had gathered some of the equipment bags that had almost gone down with the V-25.
“I know. Let’s get aboard that damnable ship and get this over with before some asshole tries that again.”
A line hit the water next to Ryan’s head as he joined them. They turned and saw that it was the Shiloh’s rigging crew aboard the Simbirsk who had thrown the ropes.
Jack watched as the De Zeven, initially tagged for the rescue, turned and made her way back to Shiloh. Evidently, Captain Johnson wanted his escort back to multiply defensive weaponry in case they were attacked again. Prudent thinking as far as Jack was concerned.
“I hope they have coffee going on that tub,” Jenks said as he tied the thick rope around the pilot and signaled Simbirsk to haul him aboard.
Jack looked at the World War II Russian cruiser and saw that she looked as if she had come out of her commissioning birth just last week. She was in pristine condition and looked like any warship from that era. There was one notable exception—the coiled wiring that covered her hull from stem to stern. They looked like old-fashioned coil springs from an army cot. They were gray in color to match the ship’s paint scheme. He saw the American riggers on board as they managed to throw five more lines into the water. Collins felt a strange electrical sensation gently coursing through his body. It wasn’t painful, but he knew it was there. It was like the feeling you get just before a close encounter with a lightning strike.
“Shall we see what all the hubbub is about, Colonel? At least to take cover in case someone starts shooting missiles at us again.”
Jack nodded at Carl, who also turned to see the ghost ship in front of them.
The Russian battle cruiser Simbirsk waited like an old haunted house from stories told to make you frightened of your own shadow when you were a child. It was Ellenshaw who put the right words to it.
“That ship has gone bad,” he said as he was pulled toward the derelict by the lifeline.
At that moment, a Russian-made Ka-27 antisubmarine helicopter swooped low over the floating men and the towed Simbirsk. The counter-rotating blades made a heavy whump as they passed. Jack’s eyes narrowed when the Russian was joined by an American Seahawk. They dueled in the sky over their heads, each helicopter coming closer and closer together in ever-more dangerous maneuvering.
“I guess Hurricane Tildy is the place to be. All the best people are here.”
* * *
As soon as Jack and his remaining men were aboard, he was handed a radio. Now that his team had arrived, the mission had become his operational command. Everett stood next to him, trying to shake some of the cold water from his nylon BDU. Before Jack raised the radio to his mouth, he quickly made sure everyone was safely aboard. After the excitement of their arrival, it took him a moment to remember the code name for the operation.
“This is Dynamo actual, over,” he said as he caught his breath from the strenuous climb to the high decking of the old warship.
“Dynamo actual, this is Captain Ezra Johnson. I think we can drop the pretense here. I think the damn Russians know about our presence, over.”
Before Jack could respond, the Russian helicopter broke with the Seahawk and turned and swooped low over the bow of the ship—low enough that all aboard dove for cover. Collins raised his head with an angry look but forcibly calmed himself as the twin counter-rotating blades buffeted the exposed men. The Royal Navy lieutenant was organizing his remaining men to prepare to resist an onboard assault. He dispersed them throughout the upper deck into hidden positions. Jack nodded at the young officer’s move.
“I see your point, Captain.” Jack gave Carl a knowing look. Everett, for his part, was assisting Jenks and Charlie Ellenshaw with their equipment check. They had lost some gear and were worried they wouldn’t be able to make their analysis of the Russian ship with what they had left. Carl shook his head slightly at Jack, indicating the trouble. “What is the current situation? Over.”
“Well, if that rust bucket over there had radar, you would be able to see a most disturbing sight. We have a Kirov-class missile cruiser and her escort bearing down on us. They are currently sixty miles out and closing at flank speed. No more ordnances have been popped off, but I don’t expect the situation to hold. I have my orders also, over.”
Jack and the others knew what those orders were. If for any reason they could not secure the vessel, it would be sunk as a hazard to navigation. That was a polite euphemism for “If we can’t have it, you can’t either.”
“With the loss of some of our equipment, it looks like we can start leaning in that direction. Do we have time for a general inspection of her power plant? Over.”
“Unless the Red Baron up there starts shooting, I would say you have about three hours, over.”
Collins was about to respond when a voice broke into their secure channel. The uninvited intruder was even clearer than the straight line-of-sight signal from Shiloh.
“To the illegal boarding party currently aboard the Simbirsk, this is Colonel Leonid Salkukoff. You are committing an act of international piracy, and the Russian government asks you to stand down and return to us Russian state property.”
Collins heard the voice of the Russian and responded, “I am sure I don’t have to stand here and explain to you the finer points of international law governing the open seas of the world. This ship is a derelict and unmanned. It is also a hazard to free navigation. By right of salvage, NATO has claimed this vessel.”
“Who am I speaking to please? Over,” came the accented voice. Jack knew that whoever it was, it was coming from the circling helicopter over their heads due to the heavy sound of rotors heard in the background.
A quick look at Carl and a smirk. He clicked the transmit button. “This is Dynamo, over.”
“Ah, we can play this game all day, Colonel Collins. We will play until the whistle sounds, and still, the inevitable outcome will not have changed one iota. Over.”
Most of the men on the deck of Simbirsk heard Jack’s real name being uttered by the Russian. They all stopped and listened as the situation had suddenly just changed direction.
“Okay, Colonel, you know who I am. Your dramatic and revealing moment has passed, and here we are with the same dilemma we had just a second ago.”
“Colonel, we can have this discussion all day, but at the moment, our missile cruiser Peter the Great has been tracking a submerged target in her area. May I suggest you tell your submarine to back down until we can come to some form of understanding? Over.”
Collins acknowledged the dreaded news by the look on his companions’ faces. Everett, the navy man, along with Ryan, saddled up closer to hear the exchange. They knew an attack on a submarine would be devastating. It was in the calmer waters underneath the waves while Peter the Great was on the surface with a clear sonar signal to pick up on, where, because of the high seas, Houston would have trouble getting a fire solution. The Russian had the advantage. Jack grimaced when he saw the choices in front of him.
“A temporary stay only, Colonel, nothing more. Let us communicate without the specter of a massacre threatening your sailors. Over.”
“Captain Johnson.”
“Shiloh, here.”
“Captain, on my authority, order Houston to stand down. Further orders later. Over.”
Just two clicks sounded on the radio informing Collins that the captain understood.
“Now you see, Colonel, cooperation between nations can be a simple achievement. We have—”
“You fired on a United States ship of war, Colonel. That is what—”
“We fired upon common pirates. Can we skip your game of American dodgeball, Colonel? I suggest a cease-fire until we can have a discussion in person. My forces will stand down in a joint effort at the cooperation I mentioned a moment ago. Over.”
Jack looked around him. The ancient Russian ship. The towline leading to another vessel full of young men. And then he looked across at the Dutch ship, whose sailors even now lined her outer railing watching with anticipation. Then his eyes rose to the swirling cage of the hurricane they found themselves in. The black wall swirled around them like a tube of evil darkness. His eyes fell to Carl, who only nodded at Jack that they had no other choice at the moment.
“Agreed.”
“How many men do you currently have aboard, Colonel? Over.”
“We have thirty-six officers and men aboard. All fully armed, Colonel.”
“Coincidentally, we have almost the same number. And we are armed also. So, we have an agreement; all forces will stand down until we can have a civilized discussion on our differences of opinion. Over.”
Jack lowered his eyes and his radio as he quickly thought. He looked up and caught Ryan’s attention.
“Mr. Ryan, take a few of these marines and stash some weapons in a few of the companionways. I don’t care much for liars, and that is just what we have here.”
“Colonel, my patience wears thin. I do not care for flying all that much. I understand you have the same affliction. Over.”
“Okay, this is getting downright creepy, Jack. How in the hell does he know that? No one in our own department has a clue but us,” Carl said as he knelt beside Collins.
“We’re not going to find out by not letting the bastard board.” Jack angrily clicked his radio to life and stood as the helicopter swung low once more over the deck. “Permission granted to land aboard Shiloh for transfer to Simbirsk. Over.”
“Oh, I think we can manage something a little more time friendly, Colonel.”
Collins heard the scream of the Russian-made navy helicopter as it came low toward them. It rose and then settled beyond the high radio mast of the cruiser, toward the stern. It vanished.
“Damn it!” Jack cursed as he was tossed an M4 automatic weapon. “Mr. Ryan, get Jenks and Charlie into the wheelhouse after you get some weapons in other locations and wait. Carl, get a squad of marines, and let’s greet our guest.”
It took Jack, Carl, and sixteen of the Royal Marines three minutes to cover the seven hundred feet of deck to the stern of the old cruiser. When they arrived, the last man rappelling from the helicopter was seen as his booted feet struck the deck just aft of the number-three gun turret. The man allowed the rubberized rope to fly free as he quickly unzipped his body armor to allow cooler air to enter. He looked around the stern of the Simbirsk, and then he spied the two Americans and their greeting party of sixteen Royal Marines. He smiled and gave the men a jaunty salute.
Jack stood waiting with his exposed weapon at his side. He felt someone next to him and saw that it was Henri Farbeaux. Jack’s eyes saw the dirt and grease on his BDU and knew that the Frenchman had already been inside the cruiser.
“Exploring, Henri?” he asked out of the side of his mouth.
Farbeaux’s eyes never left the man who was smiling and walking toward them with thirty-two men dressed just as they were. The Frenchman’s eyes narrowed.
“I thought I would do the job I was kidnapped to do, Colonel. Then maybe my part in this foolishness can come to an end sooner rather than later.”
“Well, is that him?”
Henri watched the Russian’s approach. His mouth went into a straight line.
“Yes, it is him.” He faced Jack. “Do not trust this man, Colonel. His mission here is to destroy your assets and kill every one of you.”
“Why don’t you tell us what it is you really think, Froggy?”
Henri looked at Everett, who smirked. “This may be one situation you won’t find so amusing, Captain. I do not see an acceptable outcome here.”
Carl saw the seriousness in Farbeaux’s face and decided to stop chiding him. He didn’t particularly care for that look on the former French Army colonel’s face.
A man who stood the same height as Jack came up and stopped. He eyed the two men beside him and then the Royal Marines to his right and left. He looked behind him at his own black-clad warriors.
“At ease. Inform your men to sling weapons, Captain.”
Jack watched as the men with their black helmets and Russian-made Nomex BDUs on did as ordered. He also noticed that these soldiers were far more heavily armed than his own contingent.
“There. Now, we can all be friends,” Salkukoff said as he faced Jack. He stood rigid for the briefest of moments and then gave Collins a very fast and ill-mannered salute. Collins just as quickly returned it. “I hope I did that right.” He smiled over at the larger Everett and Farbeaux. “It’s been quite some time since I played soldier.”
“Colonel, your mission here is illegal. I request that you and your men fly back to your cruiser and let the courts decide what happens next.”
The smile remained as Salkukoff tilted his head as if he were attempting to understand a language he did not know.
“So you can rape this vessel for her technology? Colonel, you of all people know better than that.”
“Rape the technology of a ship over seventy years old? Colonel, in poker, you never show an opponent just how weak your hand really is.”
Salkukoff turned his head, and instead of answering Jack, he faced Henri Farbeaux.
“Colonel Collins has a very diverse sense of humor. He accuses the Russian government of wrongdoing but at the same time has in his employ one of the greater antiquity thieves in modern history.” He stuck his hand out to Henri. “Colonel Farbeaux, I find you in the strangest locales.”
The Frenchman looked at the outstretched hand, and then his eyes moved to the colder, darker eyes of the Russian.
“I am a thief, yes. All here can attest to that fact.” He didn’t notice nor did he care that Salkukoff dropped the offered handshake. “But you are a murderous pig of the first order. I was witness to your bravery on the battlefield.”
A knowing look crossed the Russian’s features. “Ah, the Ukraine. They were thieves, Colonel, just like yourself. They paid the price. You, sir, have yet to meet our justice.”
“And that time is not here and not now,” Collins said as he stepped in front of Henri. “This man is under my protection.”
Salkukoff smiled even wider. “As you are mine, Colonel Collins. While aboard the Simbirsk, you will be offered our hospitality. At the end of this, we will see if you wish to pursue matters in another direction.”
He stepped past Collins and then eyed the vessel around him. He shook his head and then ran a hand along the bottom of the number three-gun turret.
“They don’t construct them like this anymore”—he turned to face Jack—“do they, Colonel?” He saw that the American was going to remain silent. “Today’s surface ships of aluminum and composites, they would never have withstood phase shift dynamics.”
Collins and Everett exchanged quick, nervous looks.
“I believe you may have an engineer aboard?”
Jack stood silent as he eyed the man before him. The Russian brushed the rust off his hands and looked at the group of NATO representatives. “No, you did not bring along your brilliant Master Chief Jenks, the man responsible for getting your response to the alien incursion into the air. I must say a thrilling sight to see something as large as that battleship rise into the blue skies of Antarctica. It gave me goose bumps.”
Collins was having a hard time not only hiding his anger but also his shock that even the master chief was known to this man.
“Uri, it looks like you will not get to have the intellectual exchange you had hoped.”
A smaller man emerged from the group of Russian commandos. He was wearing glasses and had a distinct look of discomfort about him. He removed the helmet from his head and then held it at his side.
“A shame. I am a great admirer of the master chief. I have read all his work on hydrodynamics and naval engineering. Marvelous mind.”
“May I present—” Salkukoff started to say.
“Dr. Uri Gervais, chief engineer of the Orion project.”
Jack turned and saw the master chief with Ryan and Charlie standing next to him. Jenks lit his cigar and then eyed the smaller man before him.
“He’s the man behind Russia’s effort to get to the moon.”
Jack looked from Jenks to the small scientist before him. The man looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. Collins could also see that the older scientist was terrified of Salkukoff.
“Professor, it was my understanding from our intelligence briefings that you wouldn’t be caught dead in the company of assholes like this.”
All eyes went from the cigar-puffing Jenks to the Russian professor and then to the colonel, who merely laughed at the insult from the career navy man. Dr. Gervais, for his part, said nothing. The man looked downright uncomfortable.
“And our briefings on you are as accurate as yours are on the good doctor. Now, shall we see about our mystery ship and where she could have been hiding since World War II?” He stepped past Jack and the others and made for the hatchway that led into the darkened interior of the ship. Collins and Everett both noticed the satchel charges being carried by every one of the Russian commandos. It was clear what their intent was if they could not recover the Simbirsk.
The Americans and British followed the Russian strike team into the phantom of the Atlantic.