85
Captain Zhirov was watching from the sub’s camera, perched just above the waterline. Suddenly, the Pathfinder turned on all its exterior lights, bathing the entire area in an almost painful sphere of bright white. Seconds later, came the siren.
“Shit!” He turned to his own first officer. “Are we making noise?”
“No, sir. Nothing.”
Zhirov motioned to the monitor. “Then explain that!”
His first officer could only shake his head. “I don’t know, sir. We came in quiet.”
“Well, obviously not quiet enough. They know we’re here. How?!”
The first officer stammered. He had no answer.
“Go! Stop anything that’s moving, NOW!”
“Aye, sir!”
“And stand by to open torpedo bay doors. On my mark.”
“Aye!”
With that, his first officer disappeared, leaving Zhirov standing in the control room before the monitor. He crossed his arms and continued watching the ship. God only knew how, but the mission had just been compromised.
***
It was the same conclusion Sergeant Popov had just come to, now less than a hundred meters from the stern of the Pathfinder. Taking a ship was fraught with problems, but now the bright lights from the vessel would leave them virtually no cover at all. Of all the scenarios they had planned for, this was the one they could do the least about.
There was no turning back. The best the Spetsnaz team could do now would be to re-submerge and surface at the last possible moment. The Pathfinder’s greatest weakness to attack was its abnormally low stern, designed specifically for its research hardware––a known weakness that the Americans would no doubt be ready to defend.
Which meant that all Popov and his men could do was to board as quickly as possible and immediately open fire.
86
Neely reached her lab first and ran to the far corner. There, she pulled a large satellite phone off a shelf and placed it heavily onto the metal table in front of her.
Borger arrived to see her remove the handset from the cradle and start thumbing through the numbers in the phone’s memory.
In less than ten seconds, the signal bounced off a low orbiting satellite and rang on the other end, aboard a ship positioned only a few hundred miles away.
“Hello?”
“Jeff! It’s Neely. I need your help! It’s urgent!”
“Neely? Yeah, sure. What do you need?”
“It’s the sonar array. It picked something up earlier today––a false positive in our area. But it wasn’t a false positive. It was real!”
“Jesus! Are you serious?”
“Jeff, listen to me. I need a full signature scan. I need to know exactly what it picked up on. Immediately.”
“Right. Okay, you got it. I’ll send you a copy, right now!”
“Thanks. Next, bring everyone in. Everyone. We need every set of eyes we can get, looking for anything that may have been missed. And more importantly, turn on a full-spectrum scan. Every frequency and every database. And don’t stop.”
“You got it, Neely. Anything else?”
“Yes. Hurry!”
Neely hung up and looked at Borger. “What else?”
“We need to warn Tay and his men.”
***
Neither Tay, nor any of the others, needed another warning. Like everyone else, they saw the lights of the Pathfinder the moment they were lit. Even from a distance.
But they had yet to understand what was wrong.
“Tay. Are you there?” called Borger’s voice.
“Yes. What the hell is going on?”
“There’s a sub in the water. Not far from where you are.”
“Holy shit!”
Borger continued. “We’re on full alert. I recommend you guys stay where you are.”
“Are you nuts?”
“Probably. But you’re safer down there. For the moment.”
“But how long of a moment?”
Borger checked his watch. “You’re not that deep. You should be good for at least another thirty minutes.”
Listening quietly, both Corbin and Beene looked at each other. Their expressions were easily visible through their face masks. This was no precaution. The captain would not have lit the ship up like a Roman candle unless he believed a threat was imminent. And if correct, remaining on the bottom for thirty minutes was not a viable option.
But Tay conceded, still floating on the other side of the drill. “We’ll wait.”
“Okay,” Borger’s voice was clearly nervous. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” Just when Borger was about to let go of the mike, all four men heard something in the background.
Gunfire.
87
Bullets bounced off the steel deck and ripped through several of the large equipment bins on the stern. Others ricocheted, hitting cables and piercing some of the thick rubberized hoses wrapped around giant feeding wheels.
Sergeant Popov was the first out of the water and onto the back of the Pathfinder, immediately drawing fire from two sailors on the upper deck. Working together, one kept firing while the other moved. They pressed in closer to cut the attackers off from both the port and starboard sides of the ship.
Popov rolled with everything he had, miraculously making it behind one of the equipment bins. Moments later, the head of one of his men bobbed up over the edge, throwing a bag up and over. It slid to within a few feet of Popov.
Under more fire, he reached out and pulled the bag closer to him. From there, he ripped it open and removed a Russian PPD-40 machine pistol. Without looking, he fired several rounds over the top of the bin, less in an effort to hit anything than to signal his men in the water.
He waited only a few seconds before raising it again and opening fire, this time holding down the trigger and running through the entire magazine––long enough to provide cover for the next man to make it out of the water and onto the deck.
His man moved into position behind the base of one of the ship’s winches, cornered by M4 fire from the sailors. Popov instantly replaced his magazine and unloaded another barrage.
Popov slid one of the PPDs to his second and lowered his head, peering around the edge of the bin.
No clear line of sight. He moved further, trying to see beneath another winch in front of him. He couldn’t see the sailors, but he could see the legs of two more men running along the upper deck.
***
“Bridge contact! Contact!”
Captain Emerson ignored the radio and yelled at Harris. “Get every man armed! Send half to the stern and put the others on the main deck! They could be coming up anywhere!”
Harris nodded and took several men from the bridge, leaving only enough behind to run the ship.
“Sir!” yelled the sonar officer. “I still have nothing on that sub!”
Emerson ran forward and looked down through the window again. The blades of the Sea King helicopter were turning.
He pushed a button and picked up another handset. “Lawton. Are you there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need to know where that sub is NOW!”
“Yes, sir.” Neely dropped the phone and ran back down the hall. “Lee!” she burst in, screaming over the gunfire. “Where the hell is she?!”
She leaned forward and yelled into Lee’s microphone. “Alison, can you hear me?! Alison!”
“Yes. I can hear you. What’s happening?”
“We’re under attack. We need to know where that sub is, exactly!”
***
Deep below, Alison stammered, still holding tightly onto Sally. “I don’t know exactly. I’m not sure what my position is, and it’ll take me five to ten minutes to reach the surface.”
“Dammit!” Neely cried and pounded the table. She stood up, trying to think, then pulled the fat satellite phone from her pocket and dialed again. When she heard the line pick up, she didn’t wait for an answer.
“
Jeff! What are you seeing?!”
“Nothing yet. We’re scanning but don’t see anything. If there’s a sub there, we can’t see it at all!”
“How is that possible?!”
“I don’t know.”
Neely Lawton growled and hung up the phone. The gunfire was growing fiercer, and a bullet suddenly ricocheted loudly outside the exterior hatch.
She looked grimly at Lee and then at Borger who was in the doorway. “We’re totally blind.”
***
Alison. What wrong?
Alison was desperate. “We’re being attacked.” She turned and pointed at the dark outline of the sub. “By that! Our metals cannot see it.”
Sally studied the outline. It bad, Alison.
“Yes, very bad!”
Sally thrashed her tail, pulling Alison around with her. Facing the other direction, she opened her mouth and emitted a powerful call of clicks and whistles. After finishing the long sequence, Sally repeated it again and again, just as loudly.
When she was done, a calm fell over them again, like a blanket of silence. No sound came from either of them, or from Lee and the ship. Nothing at all.
Instead, Alison remained in that same spot, motionless, floating in eerie silence next to Sally.
And when the response finally came, it was not the sound that she heard––it was the sensation she felt. Right through the fabric of her dive suit, and all along her arms and legs. Next her hands sensed it. A buzzing was building from a subtle tingle through her skin to something stronger. Something much stronger. Until it hit her like a wave.
The buzzing became so strong that it was no longer just through her skin, but went deeper into her very organs and bones.
Alison gasped as the feeling grew stronger still. Almost electrifying her. Her eyes began to glaze when she saw figures emerging out of the darkness. First just a few, then more coming behind. Until the water was filled with them.
Dolphins. Nothing but dolphins. All of them using their powerful echolocation together, creating a wall of sound that was simply overwhelming.
A wall that was directed precisely at the Russian submarine.
***
Neely’s phone rang immediately. She answered hurriedly, pressing it against her ear.
“We’ve got something!” shouted Jeff. “We see it!”
Neely eyes shot open. “You see it?!”
“Holy shit, do we see it! God, Neely, you’ve got to see this!!”
***
“Captain!”
Still on the bridge, Emerson whirled around to face his sonar officer. “What?”
“I’ve got something!
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” The officer nodded excitedly, watching the lines of signals running down his green monitor. “I’m not sure how, but I’ve got it!”
Emerson looked down through the window again to see the giant helicopter finally lifting off the bow. With its commanding rotors beating the air into submission, the aircraft rose, directly in front of the bridge deck. Like a beast rising from the depths.
“Where?” Emerson commanded. “Where is it?!”
88
Popov heard the thundering of the Sea King’s rotors over the gunfire and cursed. Miraculously, he’d gotten all but one of his team aboard the ship, but a prime objective had been to keep the chopper grounded.
He called to his men and they raised their guns, unleashing a hail of fire at the helicopter. Nevertheless, it rose over the bridge deck, tilting forward. Their PPDs were no match for the chopper’s armor, but the open door still gave them a large enough target.
Three of the American sailors were dead. But more were still coming. Popov and his men were now advancing toward the upper deck. One of the Russian team had taken a shot through his left arm, but continued to surge forward with Popov and the others.
Another barrage of coordinated fire brought down a fourth sailor. The body fell onto the overhead grating and slumped sideways, sending his M4 rattling down onto the level below.
In and out, the Russians moved systematically, with short bursts to cover each man as they moved forward.
***
On the upper deck, men were running outside, past the lab where Neely stood facing Borger and Lee. They could no longer reach Alison, and the gunfire was continuing to draw nearer.
They were suddenly interrupted by the speaker next to Borger’s laptop. It was Tay.
“Will! Are you there?”
Borger grabbed the mike and held it to his mouth. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Are you guys okay?”
Borger shook his head. “It’s not good. But the captain’s orders are for you to stay down there and keep on that drill. We may not get another shot at this!”
When there was no reply, Neely looked at them
“You know whoever they are, they’re coming here.”
Borger and Lee both nodded.
She turned and looked back at the test tubes stacked neatly in the refrigerator behind her.
“We need to hide them,” Borger said.
Neely shook her head. “There’s no time.” Instead she moved to her desk and pulled one of the drawers open. She reached inside and withdrew her 1911 nickel-plated 9mm Sig Sauer handgun.
She looked solemnly at the gun, given to her by her father, then to Borger and Lee. “You two better get out of here. Get to the lower deck. They’re only after what’s in this room.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Neely reached down and pulled the slide back, chambering a round.
“Neely,” Lee pleaded. “Let’s all go. Let them have it. We’ve got the rest––the plants, and Africa.”
She stared at him in a moment of listlessness and nodded. “Africa.” She blinked and shook her head. “We can’t give this up. Not like this. What’s in these tubes is more important than any of us.”
Borger stepped forward. “Neely. If they reach this lab, they’re going to get it. That’s a fact. One handgun is not going to stop them. All its going to do is get you killed.”
“We can’t just let them have it.”
“This is not a chess match. This is you and us, being dead if we don’t leave right now.”
“My father died protecting this,” Neely replied.
“No, he didn’t!” Borger said, raising his voice. They were getting closer. “He died protecting us! All of us. To fight another day. And you need to do the same thing!”
There was a short lapse in gunfire outside, and she stared hard into Borger’s eyes. Then it hit her. She had an idea.
***
Elgin Tay was staring at the giant drill in front of him and Lightfoot. The new bit had just made contact with the alien hull, sending waves of bright light rippling outward as the drill slowly dug into the gray wall.
“Okay. Roger that,” he finally answered. “We’re not going anywhere for the moment,” he said into his helmet. “But you should know that we’re two men down.”
“What?”
“I said it’s just two of us down here now. Me and Lightfoot.”
“What about Corbin and Beene?”
“They’re gone.”
“What do you mean, they’re gone?”
“When they heard all the commotion they dropped their weights and headed back to the surface.”
***
On the Pathfinder, Borger shook his head. “Why in God’s name would they do that?”
All three suddenly jumped at the sound of one of the lab’s doors opening behind them. Neely instinctively raised her gun and pointed it at the figure in the doorway. First Officer Harris was holding an M4 carbine in his hands, looking at them with fierce blue eyes. “We have to get you out of here.”
89
Admiral Langford picked up his phone on the first ring and heard Defense Secretary Merl Miller’s voice cut in immediately.
“The Pathfinder is under attack.”
“What?”
“Right now, as we speak.
”
“Son of a bitch!” Langford gritted his teeth in frustration and forced himself not to smash something. “We need to get the president.”
“Already done,” Miller said. “We’ve got a call in one minute.”
“What do we know?”
“Not much. We’re capturing from satellite right now. Likely a small precision strike since no sign of an accompanying ship or aircraft.”
“They came in on a sub.”
“Most likely.”
“What about the oil rig?”
“Nothing we can see yet. But they’re aboard the Pathfinder.”
“They’re going after the bacteria.”
“Exactly.”
Langford leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes. “Son of a bitch.”
***
The president leaned into his speakerphone. “This is Carr. Who’s on?”
“Miller.”
“Griffith here.”
“And Langford.”
“Mason, are you there?”
Carr’s Chief of Staff answered. “Yes, Mr. President.”
“All right. What are we looking at here?”
Miller spoke up. “The Pathfinder is under attack. We’ve got a live feed, but we can’t contact them. Something is cutting off our communication with the ship.”
“How many?”
“It’s most likely a small force. Maybe eight to twelve. We’re guessing Russian. Chinese subs aren’t quiet enough, which means we’re probably looking at a Spetsnaz team.”
“Admiral? Options?”
“I just spoke with the Navy and Army chiefs. We have a team of rangers in Panama and a SEAL team in the Dominican Republic. Either of which can be there inside of two hours. As we all know, the Pathfinder’s location is not ideal.” Langford paused. “The alternative is an air strike.”
Ripple (Breakthrough Book 4) Page 28