Paths of Courage

by Mike Woodhams

  Grace was extremely relieved to step out of the Level 2 air-lock into Level 1. She was now effectively out of the hot zone and the horror it held, but felt conspicuous without the space suit. Making straight for the Level 1 air-lock, ignoring everything else around, she arrived and mingled with others waiting to leave through the air-lock.

  Suddenly, a hand rested on her shoulder and a male voice instructed her to follow him. Grace almost collapsed with panic when she turned and stared at a young man also dressed in smock and cap. She began to protest, but he gripped her firmly by the arm and guided her towards a room a short way back down the corridor. My God! Had she been discovered?

  On the other side of the air-lock, Ryder could wait no longer. He decided to enter Level 1; it was time to throw caution to the wind. The door slid open, the lock emptied and he and the others moved forward together with several technicians, too busy talking to seemingly give them much attention.

  Grace, entering the room, stopped short, fear spiking when she came face-to-face with the woman scientist encountered in the Level 4 lab sitting at the only desk. The man took a seat alongside her. Grace was left to stand.

  The woman stared hard at Grace, then came sharply to the point. “You told me you had just arrived here, yet on checking I find that no new lab personnel have been assigned within the last month. Can you explain?”

  Grace was not prepared for this and after some hesitation blurted out a story that there must be some mistake as she had been assigned here by the camp commander at Haengyong.

  “His name?” she shot.

  “Colonel Chang-su.”

  “Strange. He does not recall sending you,” the woman replied, cold eyes fixed on Grace like a predator about to finish its victim. “What have you to say?”

  Grace knew she was caught and stammered, “There must be…”

  “Enough!” The woman cut her short and turned to the man. “Bring a guard.”

  The man hurriedly stood and went out.

  Grace, in her despair, decided to kill this wretched woman. She reached down, but suddenly stopped when the woman raised a gun from below the desk.

  In the corridor, the man sent out to find a guard saw three uniformed men standing by the air-lock and called to them.

  Ryder, Bom and Song froze, staring as he approached.

  The man came up, briefly explained what had happened and pointed to the room. Ryder immediately realized he was talking about Grace and all three followed the man. Frank entered the room whilst the others remained outside.

  He could see Grace’s relief. The woman behind the desk put down her gun and repeated what he had already been told, ending with, “Take her away and interrogate. Find out who sent her. Inform the commandant and let me know the result.”

  Ryder wasn’t listening; he was weighing up whether or not to kill the woman and the man. He decided on the former; nobody should be left behind to tell. He drew his silenced pistol to lead Grace away, then turned and shot them both cleanly through the head.

  As they left the room, Grace half-smiled and tapped her breast pocket, conveying all was okay – mission accomplished. Without a word, they made casually for the Level 1 air-lock and waited with others waiting to enter. Once through, they mingled with personnel in the busy corridor on the other side, keeping a reasonable distance between themselves and Grace. They cautiously exited out the far doors, past the caged prisoners and beyond into the main entrance cavern. Here trucks were discharging more prisoners amidst a cacophony of voices, revving diesels and martial music. They easily managed to pass through the ordered chaos unnoticed and entered into the corridor that led directly to the plant area.

  Minutes later, they arrived at the entrance. Ryder indicated for the others to wait while he confidently pushed open the doors and boldly strode through into the vast, noisy plant cavern. He checked to see that no one was in the office or the ablutions block, then went back to the entrance. The rest of the group filed in.

  Suddenly, a technician carrying a tool kit stepped out from behind a boiler directly in their path. He stopped, startled, seeing armed men only feet away.

  Ryder sprang.

  At that very moment the entrance doors to the plant room swung open and two guards strode in, saw immediately what was happening and reacted swiftly. One managed to discharge a single shot before both were gunned down by Song and Bom. Ryder quickly broke the technician’s neck before he could cry out.

  Grace felt a searing pain shoot through her lower back. She staggered forward, trying desperately to stay on her feet, bounced off a machine control panel and collapsed to the floor. The others immediately sprang to her aid.

  Ryder searched frantically for the bullet wound, whilst Bom hurried to cover the entrance. Lifting her gently, he and Song moved Grace in amongst the machinery out of view of the entrance.

  “She’s taken a hit in the lower back; no exit wound visible. Bullet must be lodged inside; could be considerable internal damage.”

  “Close to the spine?” asked Song with concern.

  “Yeah, very close; maybe fatal if we move her.”

  “Should we do that?”

  “No choice. We’re not leaving her.” No way was Ryder going to leave her to the mercy of the Koreans; she had to be moved despite the risk. He prayed she would survive the journey back. “Dan, go find something to make a makeshift stretcher.”

  Ryder did his best to staunch the flow of blood and make her as comfortable as possible. She was conscious, although in a state of shock. Handing him the tubes of vaccine, she managed to explain briefly what had transpired and what the tubes contained. She emphasized that the vaccine had only three weeks before potency was lost. He placed the containers in his breast pockets. It was time to get out – and fast.

  Ryder and Song quickly removed the ammunition clips and grenades from the dead guards, then dumped the two, together with the technician, in the storeroom alongside the other bodies. A makeshift stretcher was quickly constructed with canvas and metal rods found amongst the machinery. Then, with Grace as comfortable as they could make her, Bom and Song carried the stretcher, following Ryder into the airshaft.

  It did not take long to reach the outside. A signal to Chol saw him emerge from hiding; a smile expressing relief, changing immediately on seeing the stretcher holding Grace. The grille was hurriedly pulled out to allow the stretcher to pass through and then replaced. With Grace seriously injured, their problems had increased ten-fold, compounded by the fact that they had only three weeks before the vaccine would lose its value. Grace would not be left behind under any circumstances. Ryder would make sure she made it back to the beach with them or none would. They had to get away as quickly as possible. After Grace said she felt able to be moved, they headed south down the mountainside into the valley, followed a short distance by the resident hawks screeching at their departure.

  30

  K449 sat silently on the seabed. The occupants, their nerves taut, waited for the sound of approaching torpedoes. The weapons officer’s finger was poised over the countermeasure button, ready to release decoys to deflect the radar energy guiding the torpedoes to the target. He also had a finger ready on the other hand to release homing torpedoes of their own when ordered.

  “Captain – sonar. Contact speed and course unchanged. Range 1,000 yards and closing. Depth 400.”

  “They would have released by now if they had our position,” said Lieutenant Zaha, relief showing. “Praise to Allah; we are lost in the background.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Kamani replied. “If they ping us again this close…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly.

  “The bedrock will protect us.”

  “Only if there is sufficient shore noise to cover and confuse the sonars.”

  “Captain – sonar. Contact range 500 yards. Course, speed and depth unchanged.”

  “They’re almost on us!” Urgency came back into the XO’s voice.

  Sweat glistened on the captain’s brow
.

  “Captain – sonar. Range 200. Speed and depth unchanged.”

  “She’s on top of us!” exclaimed Zaha, fighting hard to contain his fear.

  A mixture of uncertainty and sharp fear gripped the captain; should he release his own torpedoes now, whilst still holding the advantage, or wait? Tension in the control room was unbearable. Each man knew that whatever happened in the next few minutes would seal his fate.

  “Captain – sonar. Contact course change to zero-four-five. Speed and depth unchanged.”

  The crew listened to the screw of the British submarine churn 200 feet above them and felt the turbulence as the huge warship swept by so close. The sour smell of fear pervaded the control centre.

  “She’s veering northeast! She’s missed us!” exclaimed a jubilant Lieutenant Zaha before giving thanks again to Allah.

  Immense relief flooded the control room. That had been nerve shattering.

  “I commend your steadfastness, Captain Kamani,” said Ali bin Rashid. “Close call. You are indeed a brave man.”

  “Thank you.” Kamani considered that the statement made by the negotiator had now fully atoned for the insult delivered by him at Heard Island. He continued. “However, bear in mind, this may only be a taste of what can be expected if the infidel suspects we are here in the Atlantic.”

  “And what are the chances of that?” asked Captain Moradi.

  “I do not know. But it seems they were near enough to catch us on the passive, probably when we increased speed, and again when they pinged us. The fact that they are patrolling here, using Astute-class vessels, suggests they are serious in covering all their options. If that sub recorded our signature, they will know we are here and we can expect the rest of the journey to be full of danger – real danger – should they bring in the rest of the flotilla.” He turned to the XO. “From now on we inch our way to the target, keeping as close as we dare to the coastline. We remain rigged for silence and prepared for immediate action at all times.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Captain Kamani silently prayed the infidel submarine had not gained K449’s signature, for if it had, he knew there would be little chance of fulfilling the Islamic dream they had come so far to achieve. There would be no alternative but to die fighting for the glory of Islam.

  Three hours later, when it was gauged that the enemy submarine was far enough away, Captain Kamani ordered the engines to be restarted and the course to be resumed.

  “Captain – helm. Course zero-three-zero. Speed five knots. Make your depth 400 feet.”

  K449 gently lifted off the seabed and slowly headed northwards towards the equator and the North Atlantic.

  31

  Rain fell at dawn as the group huddled in a small cave at the base of a rock outcrop surrounded by forest. After only a short rest, Ryder’s group was now ready to continue the journey back to the coast. Frank gently turned Grace onto her stomach and replaced the dressing to her wound. The bleeding had thankfully stopped and he hoped that their basic first-aid-kits would last until they reached the submarine. He was concerned by her condition and worried it would deteriorate rapidly; she would have little rest as they continuously moved over the rough, irregular terrain. The four men took turns at carrying the stretcher. Speed was necessary if they were to reach safety before the three-week vaccine deadline.

  Bom pulled Ryder aside.

  “Twenty-four hours since the mountain, boss. We can expect units out in force soon. Those helicopters last night… not good.”

  He agreed. But if they upped the pace, Grace may not survive.

  Bom looked him straight in the eye. “She’s slowing us down, boss, and there’s still a long way to go.”

  “We’re not leaving her,” Ryder shot back.

  “What I’m saying is that maybe two of us should go on ahead with the vaccine and the other two follow as best they can.”

  Ryder could see the sense in that, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it himself. Was his concern for Grace overriding the objective? The vaccine is what they had come for and would save a lot of lives if needed, but not if they failed to deliver.

  He conceded. “You’re right; makes sense. You and Dan go.”

  Bom hesitated. “Makes more sense if you go, boss. Things could get tricky forcing the pace out front. Chol and me can look out for the doc. Our job is support.”

  Frank thought about it for a moment; maybe he was right. However, no time for debate; getting the vaccine back was the priority. “Okay, so be it.” He then called Song over, explained the situation and turned back to Bom. “Don’t let those commies get their hands on the doc, you understand?”

  Bom nodded.

  With that Ryder and Song left the cave, grateful the rain had stopped and the sun now shone. Bom and Chol, stretcher between them, followed shortly after.

  32

  The black hull of K449 glided silently through the blue depths of the Guiana Basin and entered the eastern end of the five-mile deep Puerto Rico Trench, eighty-five miles north of the Leeward Island of Barbuda on latitude 18.30N, longitude 62W. She had crawled her way northeastwards up the coast of South America at less than seven knots, hugging the seabed wherever she could, keeping to the busy shipping lanes as close to the shore as she dared. With the mass of land always to port, she passed the Brazilian cities of Rio de Janeiro, Salvador and Recife, changing course northwest at Cape Sao Roque, before crossing the equator a few miles north of the Amazon Delta, then on up past French Guiana, Suriname and Guyana. At Trinidad and Tobago she changed course once more, tracking north past the Windward Islands of Barbados, Martinique and Guadeloupe until she reached the westward end of the Leewards.

  The journey had been painfully slow for Captain Asad Kamani and his crew as they maintained a silent ship, poring over charts and listening to the incessant sound of the passive sonar. The monotony of daily routine was alleviated only by the thought of fulfilling their glorious mission and the effect of the on-off adrenaline fix, knowing they were being hunted. One wrong move and they could all end up dead at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.

  In the small wardroom, Captain Kamani, Lieutenant Zaha, Ali bin Rashid and Captain Moradi sat drinking tea. A map of the Caribbean and northwest Atlantic was on the table between them.

  “…Once through the 400 miles of this trench, another 1,100 will see us at the firing coordinates here,” said Kamani, finishing his description of their intended route and pointing to a position some fifty nautical miles off the North Carolina coast. He looked tired and perspiration glistened on his strong features, but his eyes displayed determination and fire.

  “We have been fortunate that the British sub has not located us. Your tactics, Captain, have worked well so far,” said Rashid, pleased with Kamani’s skill and tenacity. He had been wrong about the captain; this man was truly committed and focused.

  “Pray to Allah they continue,” Kamani replied. “If the infidel thought we were here, the seas around us would be crawling with warships of all kinds. We can expect to encounter patrolling subs and surface ships the closer we get to the target. From now on we cannot avoid deeper water; we will need to be extremely careful.”

  “How long now before releasing the payload?” Rashid asked.

  “Six days if all goes well.”

  “And if something happens before that?” questioned Captain Moradi.

  “The Stingray is primed and ready for launch any time. We are now already within range of the target.”

  A moment’s silence passed before Kamani spoke. “We follow the trench west keeping at a depth of around 700 feet at a speed of seven to ten knots until we reach here.” He placed the tip of his finger on lat20N, long68W, just east of the Navidad Bank, the southernmost stretch of shallow water before reaching the Caicos Islands and Bahama chain. “From this point we make our way northwest up the Atlantic side of the Bahamas to San Salvador Island, then head directly north to the release point.” He paused. “We soon will be in very dangerous
waters close to the infidel’s lair. Stealth will be our only ally. If we are to achieve the glory of Allah, we must run silent and we must run deep.”

  33

  Ryder and Song, some two klicks in front of the others, heard the throb of a helicopter and dived for cover on the tree-lined ridge, just before it flew low over and on down into the narrow wooded valley they had just crossed. Once the craft was out of sight, both emerged, then froze. Less than half a klick away on the slope below, lines of troops were crossing open parts of the forest heading up towards them.

  “Holy shit!” exclaimed Song, fear momentarily etched on his features.

  “Just what we bloody needed,” said Ryder, forcing himself not to panic.

  “Too many to take on,” said Song. “Follow this ridge; maybe they’re not looking further to the east.”

  “This is the most direct route southeast. Carrying the doc, the others will come this way,” spat Ryder, scanning the valley. “We’ll be lucky to break through those lines…” He stopped short. “Oh, shit – dogs.” He pointed down the valley. “One sniff and we’re history, Dan. We have to warn the others. We must go back.”

  “What’s the fucking point in that?” Song shot back defiantly. “This vaccine is more important. Why the fuck throw it all away after what we’ve been through?” Then, as if realizing what he had just blurted out, he said, in a more conciliatory tone, “Lots of people could die without this vaccine.”

  Surprised at the Korean’s outburst, and angry at the insubordination, Ryder wanted to deck him, but instead quickly reconsidered the options. It was obvious they stood little to no chance of breaking through the oncoming lines. They could follow the ridge eastwards in the hope that the next valley was clear. If they got back quick enough to warn the others, they could perhaps detour inland towards the west and turn eastwards later when safe or he could go it alone. He was torn between duty and concern for the others. He made his choice.