Higher Cause

by John Hunt

  He swore under his breath.

  The starlight was not sufficient to illuminate the face of anyone who did not wish to be illuminated. That would not be true below deck, where faces could be made out easily, even though the lights were red, as they were when the sub was on the surface at night. Jeff would have to act fast, for if he were to meet Sophia below decks, undoubtedly she would reveal him to be a spy by expressing surprise. Up on this dark deck, the others might not notice a look of shock on her face.

  So he took a necessary risk. Dropping his binoculars so that they hung loosely from his neck, Jeff pulled himself over the rails of the bridge and slid down the ladder to the wet deck. As he landed at the bottom of the ladder, he turned and walked toward Azid, Khamil, and Sophia, and called out in Arabic just loudly enough that he could be certain that Sophia would recognize the timbre of his voice. “Why do you bring a woman here? What are you thinking? Kill her. Kill her now!” He spoke angrily and authoritatively.

  As he approached, Azid held up his hand to silence Baddori.

  Jeff came closer. He moved in toward Sophia until his face was inches from hers. The expression on his face was severe; the grimace seemed to reveal pure hatred as he angled his face around his girlfriend so that she could see him. Sophia pulled back instinctively as the menacing man approached. Her fear was real. And as she saw his face and had time to decipher, she continued to reveal only fear — without showing any recognition.

  “Ahmad, my friend, all is well.” Azid attempted to calm Baddori. “This is the creator of the nuclear fusion machine. She just happened to be in the laboratory when I was placing the bombs.”

  The bombs had already been set. The news hit Jeff like a tidal wave. He had lost his gamble, and the Island would pay for his error. He closed his eyes for a moment, and regained composure before anyone could see his dismay.

  Jeff said in a calm voice, “I do not like changes in plans if they can be avoided.”

  “I understand. But one must take advantage of opportunities,” Azid continued. “They have a laboratory staff meeting at eight in the morning. Everyone who works on the project will be there. We can destroy not only the machine, but the creators of it as well. It is an opportunity not to be missed.”

  So the bombs had been placed but not yet detonated. Jeff glanced at the glowing dial of his watch. It was 4 AM. The sun would be rising in two hours. Two hours after that a dozen people would be killed, unless he could stop it. He would have to work quickly.

  When the sky started to lighten, he would have no chance to do anything at all.

  Jeff’s angry outburst in Arabic was incomprehensible to Sophia, but the voice was familiar enough. She knew immediately who it was. Undoubtedly he meant for his demeanor to prepare her to play a role — a supporting actress in whatever plot he had hatched. She was prepared to play that role. She was afraid only for a moment when his face approached hers, and for a moment she was not so sure that it really was Jeff. But her uncertainty abated when she saw his eyes. Disguised though they were by his sinister glare, she knew that the eyes were Jeff’s.

  She wished that she understood Arabic. No one was speaking English. She had been ushered through a watertight hatch in the deck and had lost sight of Jeff. The men provided her with a stateroom, and locked it up firmly. The rust on the solid iron handle seemed to threaten to hold the door closed permanently.

  She rifled through the drawers and cabinets, and searched under the mattress pad and in the small locker. The only item that appeared to have any utility was a piece of corroded steel wire, designed to keep the occupant of the berth from falling out as the sub rolled on the surface. It would be enough.

  She began working at the wire. The wooden stakes holding it in place were rotting, and it took hardly more than a slight tug to rip them out of their positions. In a few moments she had fashioned a garrote. She bent the wire repeatedly and broke off a small bit at the end, with which she made a device that could look like a lock pick. It did not have to work. It just had to look like it would work. With these things accomplished, she settled down and awaited her rescue.

  She did not need to wait long. The lock made a scratching noise, followed by the rusty latch’s grinding, squealing complaint as it was turned, and this tolled the arrival of help. The door swung open and there was Jeff — bearded, unkempt, and smiling that broad infectious grin that she loved. He reached for her and she fell into his arms. It lasted only a moment, but in that brief embrace they spoke volumes to one another.

  “I love you, Jeff. Let’s get out of here.”

  “We’re on our way. We need to make the lock look like we jimmied it.”

  Sophia produced her prop, and while saying, “Done,” she pushed it into the inside hole in the door lock, and twisted it until it was firmly stuck.

  While she was at the task, Jeff stepped back into the hallway where a young sailor lay unconscious on the floor, with a blue bruise on the back of his neck. He was tiny, and Jeff dragged him in through the door easily. Sophia handed Jeff the garrote. He looked at it quizzically, and then at Sophia admiringly. He turned the sailor over on his belly, placed the wire around the man’s neck, and sawed it lightly back and forth. After a few seconds he rolled the man on his back and inspected his handiwork. The skin on the man’s neck was deeply abraded, and bled in places, looking as if he had been strangled. The scene was set.

  After closing the door behind them, Jeff and Sophia moved off down the passageway. They ducked into the abandoned radio room when they heard a pair of seamen about to come around a corner. The seaman passed by unaware of them.

  Jeff hurried, and propelled Sophia along, and they were soon standing in the abandoned aft torpedo room. Quietly, Jeff opened the inner door to one of the torpedo tubes. Inside was a self-inflating rubber raft. He motioned to Sophia to climb inside as he pushed the raft in farther.

  “If you go out through a hatch, they will see you moving on deck. This is the way to go, believe me. Can you hold your breath for thirty seconds?”

  “Yes. But what about you?”

  “I’ll see you again soon enough.”

  “No, it can’t be soon enough.” Sophia contradicted him, calmly. She threw her arms around Jeff again and kissed him passionately.

  When they pulled apart, Sophia took a deep breath in satisfaction. He kissed her bruised and bloodied cheeks tenderly. Then as the gravity of the situation set back in she thought to ask a question. “How do I inflate the raft?”

  “Even when not inflated, it has enough buoyancy to float. Drag it out of the tube with you and follow it up to the surface. When you get to the surface, swim away from the sub. Try to find the lights coming from the island and head that way. If you can’t see the lights, just be sure to get away from the sub. When you think you are far enough away, pull the red handle on the raft and it will inflate. It’s a bit noisy, but the wind should cover the sound. There is a folding aluminum paddle and a compass inside. Sorry, no engine. Paddle as fast as you can. Head north.”

  “No radio on it?”

  “Not one that works. And I can’t scrounge one up for you. But we are not far from the island — about a mile. You will make it in an hour. The bomb in your lab is set to go off at ten past eight. If it is what I think it is, it will probably destroy the whole building. Don’t try to defuse it; just carry it away and place it where it won’t do any major damage.” He paused, and remembered his experience on the OTEC. “Oh, look carefully. There might be two bombs. They will look like canisters of yellow and blue liquid.”

  “Liquid bombs?”

  “Each is an explosive, but it’s when the stuff mixes together that it makes a really big noise.” He ushered her into the torpedo tube headfirst. “I’m going to close the door now. When I knock on it, that’ll mean I am flooding the tube. Hold your breath and get ready to pop your ears. The water will be turbulent for a moment but then it will settle down. When the water settles, start swimming. The outer door to the tube will be open. Don�
��t let go of the raft!”

  He started to close the door, and then reopened it. “Tell nobody that I was here — nobody. No matter what. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “And tell Petur not to worry about the OTEC. Now that it has already proven its success, these men have no interest in it. They accept that that battle was lost.” He patted her foot. “I’ll see you soon.” He stated it as a fact.

  The door slammed shut on the torpedo tube. Suddenly it was completely black. Black and cold. It seemed like an eternity of darkness. What was taking him so long? Finally, three confident raps on the metal prompted her to exhale completely, and then breathe in as deeply as she could. She felt a painful pressure in her ears, and then warm water flooded around her. Fully surrounded by the water now, she ensured her grip on the handle of the collapsed raft and pushed herself forward along the tube. It was much longer than she had imagined. There was no light ahead to encourage her. She had to trust Jeff that the outer door was open.

  She reached out to push herself along the wall. This time she made no contact. She was out. She kicked madly through the darkness and pulled the raft with her. It began to pull her slowly downward. She struggled to hold on to it, to pull it back up to her, but she had the feeling that it was winning. Jeff had been wrong about the raft’s buoyancy.

  Her lungs started to complain, so she let some air out and felt a momentary relief. No panic yet, but it would come. She still felt like she was being pulled down to the ocean floor, slowly but surely. She would have to let go of the raft. Another complaint from her chest prompted her to release more air through her nose. Again she felt better. Why did that make her feel better, she wondered?

  She moved her way along the raft, quickly, and reached for the red inflation handle. It was a risk, for she would pop up right alongside the submarine, but she was running out of air, and it was the only way she knew of to save the raft. Damn, where was that handle? She groped without success. She let more air out of her lungs. There was not much of it left.

  Suddenly, she understood. There was no light anywhere. She could not even see which way her bubbles were going. Maybe Jeff wasn’t wrong about the raft. Perhaps the raft wasn’t pulling her down. Perhaps it was tugging her up toward the surface. Though on the edge of panic, Sophia listened as her last remaining bit of logic told her to defy what her body was telling her. Swim down! Go with the raft! Another part of her brain cried out in panic against the logic. She suppressed it. She had faith in Jeff. She prayed he was right.

  She dove in the direction that her senses told her was downward. In a moment, she broke out of the water and into an air pocket. She felt the air on her face, gasped deeply, and pulled it in strongly. An air pocket under water? Then, suddenly, her whole world flipped over and she knew up from down. She had broken the surface and bobbed with the deflated raft.

  The ghostly gray hull of the submarine lay immediately next to her. The stars above lit it dimly. Tall waves struck the boat’s hull and threatened to take her with them. She caught herself breathing loudly, and concentrated on quieting down. It took several minutes to catch her breath enough that she sounded any quieter than a four-engine freight train. Then she swam silently away from the vessel. Up and down the swells she swam, unsure whether she was making headway and unsure whether the waves were toying with her: tossing her up in the air and catching her again, so that she would never make any progress.

  Rising to the crest of a wave, she saw the lights of the island ahead of her. Good, she was going in the right direction. She looked back and sought to see the outline of the submarine, but it was lost against the blackness of the water. Had she gone far enough? Just a little farther, she decided, to be safe.

  A few more minutes were all she could manage. Inside the raft with the paddle she would make more progress than if she were to continue to tow the cumbersome thing along. Or she could just drop it and swim in to shore. It was not too far. But there was the coral reef to contend with. It could cut her badly.

  She pulled the handle to inflate the raft. It hissed loudly as the canister of gas emptied into the rubber tube. She hoped the breeze would cover the sound, as Jeff had said it would.

  After climbing into the inflated raft, she felt around in the dark for the paddle. There it was. It took her a few agonizing minutes to wrest it free from its mounting and determine how to put it together. In the end, she succeeded. Looking back, she still saw no sign of the submarine — no searchlights interrogating the darkness for information regarding her whereabouts. She assumed that they had not yet discovered her escape. Lift, pull, sweep. She began the arduous task of paddling for shore.

  40. Escape and Evade

  BACK ON THE submarine, Jeff had no idea if Sophia had made it out of the tube and to the surface safely. He went directly to the conning tower and onto the bridge.

  The waves had increased in intensity, and they sprayed him with slicing brine. He wiped the salt from his eyes and looked out over the water aft of the submarine. Nothing was visible — just the blackness of the water. If she had made it, she was doing a good job of staying concealed.

  He stayed there for a time, and talked amiably with the officer who was on watch, and the seaman who was on lookout. He smoked a cigarette to provide an excuse for his trip above decks. Awful things. He hated smoking.

  The sun had not yet even hinted at its pending arrival when Jeff moved back down below. Azid was in the control room examining a gauge that seemed to be malfunctioning.

  “It says the outer door is open, sir,” the sailor told Azid.

  “Is it true?”

  “I doubt it, sir. This boat barely even floats; our gauges are constantly malfunctioning. I don’t think it means anything.”

  “When did it say the door opened?”

  “I noticed about half an hour ago, sir.”

  There was a pause. Azid inhaled deeply, and asked politely, “How long have you been on board this submarine?”

  “Two months, sir.”

  “Ever been on one before this?” A gentle voice.

  “No.”

  Azid then stretched his face into a look of maniacal rage and bellowed at the sailor so loudly that the man fell off his seat, “Damn you! Wake your captain and tell him about this. Then send someone back there to check on it by sight — now!”

  Azid moved quickly down the ladder and into the main passageway, and headed for the place where Sophia had been locked away. Baddori followed closely in tow.

  “Torpedo tube open?” Baddori asked.

  “Yes,” was all that Azid said in return.

  Baddori said, “If that gauge is right, then the woman is gone.” He added, “You should have killed her.” It was vital that he keep Azid on edge. He could allow no time for him to think.

  Azid said, “If she is still here, I will kill her. If she is gone, I will find her and kill her.”

  In a moment they were at the door to what had been Sophia’s cell. No man stood outside. Azid yanked at the door handle, but it did not budge. He pounded on the door with clenched fists, shouting up the hallway, “Get me the key to this door! Get me the key!”

  It took several minutes before they met his demand. Several men sleeping in the berths nearby rolled out of their racks to see what was going on. They were met with the frenzied expression of a man gone wild. Azid’s eyes were black with rage, and he was shouting like a madman.

  An unsuspecting young boy produced the key, and paid for the delay by taking a fist to his chin. Azid worked the door lock. The key did not seem to be the correct one. But then he twisted it hard and it turned, finally. The door was thrown open with a groan.

  The small man on the floor had not moved. He still lay on his back, and the wire marks etched in his throat shouted out the cause for his state of unconsciousness. Azid picked up the wire from the floor and threw it to the ground.

  “It looks like the lock was picked,” Baddori offered, pointing to the wire stuck in the lock on the ins
ide of the door.

  “Search the boat!” Azid cried out.

  The men in the hallway were mulling about, with no one taking charge.

  “Search the damn boat! Find the woman and bring her to me now, or you will all pay!” He viciously kicked the side of the unconscious man with the hard tip of his shoe.

  Khamil and the Indonesian skipper, having both just fallen asleep, roused in response to the commotion.

  Khamil limped over to his friend’s side. “What is going on?”

  “The bitch escaped,” Baddori cut in. Azid was too out of control to communicate clearly.

  “Escaped? So let’s find her.”

  “Khamil, you imbecile, she is off the boat.” Azid was speaking through clenched teeth, trying to regain his composure.

  “How?” Khamil asked.

  Azid opened his mouth to answer, but Baddori preempted him. “She is not on the boat.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No. But it is highly likely. The men are supposed to be searching the boat now.”

  “The waves are too high to swim. She likely will not make it to shore.”

  “True. But maybe she will.” Jeff needed an excuse to go ashore, and this was it.

  Azid came to his senses. “No, that woman was fit and will make the swim. Khamil, you stay here. Look for her on the water. Move in closer to the island and then wait, submerged, for her. Use the searchlights only if you need to, and aim them out to sea. Baddori and I will wait for her on shore in case she gets past you. That is, of course, if she made it alive. The sun will be up in an hour. We have little time.

  Khamil started to protest, but Azid’s eyes became fierce before he could speak. Khamil looked at Baddori with a suspicious sneer.

  “Do not worry, my disabled companion,” Jeff whispered to Khamil after Azid stepped out. “I promise I will do the right thing.”

  Sophia had already made it to the shore. She scrambled up the beach, leaving the raft to float off on its own. She was three kilometers from the nearest building, but fortunately her shoes, as wet as they were, had not fallen off in the water. She ran down the beach as fast as she could.