The fishing boat was trawling with three noisemakers. They weren't tremendously loud, but each of them emitted a steady, high-pitched sound. When the Revelation sonar in passive mode picked up the echoes of the sound off the shallow bottom, the effect was the same as if the noisemakers had been searchlights. The multiple noisemakers created a three-dimensional effect, eliminating many of the shadows on the irregular bottom and allowing any man-made item, such as the third stage of the SuperAegis launch vehicle, to be seen and recognized. That was the theory, anyway.
"So where the hell is it?" Heydrich demanded.
"You missed your calling," Turchak told him from his station at the helm, without turning around. "With that tone of voice, you should have been a czar."
"I don't know where the hell it is," Kolnikov replied icily. "If I did, we would simply motor over to it and let you perform your heroics. Now why don't you find a seat in the back of the control room and watch people who know more about it than you do look for your missing third stage?"
They had been looking for a day. Almost ten hours. Kolnikov scrutinized the Revelation screens with care. The sonar wasn't designed for the task he was trying to perform with it, and the computer presentations were often murky, difficult to make out. Heydrich and the divers were there in the control room in addition to the normal crew. They were sitting in chairs or standing, occasionally moving around from pure frustration, all the time concentrating fiercely on the Revelation screens.
The shallow seamount over which USS America crawled was the top of an ancient volcano. There was some controversy, Kolnikov recalled, a few years back over whether one of these seamounts was the legendary Atlantis, covered by the sea. The volcano that made this seamount was old when the world was young. The cone had penetrated the surface and been eroded to nearly level by wind, rain, and surf. Then at some time during the geological past, the island sank beneath the waves. Or the sea rose. Whichever, the top of the ancient volcano was today about fifteen square miles in area and submerged to a depth of ninety feet.
Fifteen squares miles was a lot of area. If the SuperAegis third stage had made it here. Vladimir Kolnikov tried to curb his impatience. The noisemakers being towed by the fishing boat could not be heard at any great distance, but if he used active sonar and radiated a pulse, that could be heard. For hundreds of miles.
Trying to find the third stage of the rocket was like looking for a needle by candlelight. And other submarines might be out there, sharks angling for a torpedo shot. He could never discount that possibility. He glanced over his shoulder at Eck, who was searching for other submarines and trying to optimize the Revelation pictures. When he tired, this operation would have to be temporarily suspended. Boldt could check for other subs, but he couldn't do two things at once.
Weird shapes abounded on top of the seamount. There were ancient shipwrecks, at least one modern one, fantastic coral shapes, eroded rock…. Here and there the sub passed over the gloom of a deep fissure that was impenetrable to Revelation in the passive mode. The first problem had occurred when the fishing boat had turned at the end of the first pass and started back. The radius of the turn had been so large that a segment of the seamount's surface would be left unexamined.
Kolnikov decided to risk the underwater telephone, which used sound. It could be heard at about fifty miles by Los Angeles—class subs. If there were any out there. But if the missing third stage was in one of the areas that were being missed, it would never be found. Kolnikov bit the bullet and handed Heydrich the telephone headset. The fishing boat was plodding along now with GPS precision. "How long to search this entire seamount?" Heydrich asked. "Since we must rest and sleep, I would say another day, at least." The weather forecast that Boldt had downloaded when he raised the communications mast said a storm was brewing to the south. An area of low pressure drifting off Africa would become a tropical depression, then perhaps a hurricane.
Fortunately, the storm was well south, and in any event America should have recovered the satellite and be gone by the time it got seriously wound up. Storms were tricky. In these shallows the motion of the swells from a serious storm might rock America. That wouldn't be a problem if she were properly ballasted and making enough way to have full control with the planes, but at three knots she was so slow that the planes had little effect. No, Kolnikov thought, he didn't want to be caught at slow speed in these shallows if a serious storm happened by.
Where was the satellite?
Kolnikov glanced at Heydrich, wondering how long his patience would last if the satellite didn't turn up soon. He had sat in the back of the control room since the boat left Long Island Sound — when he wasn't locked up or sleeping; never a soft and fuzzy type, now Heydrich seemed to have an edge, an urgency about him. Perhaps it was the storm to the south.
Yes, the storm. Recovering the satellite. That was it.
The passenger list for the trip to Lisbon presented something of a problem. Flap's first thought was that he and Jake and eight of the toughest marines in the corps would go to Europe and kick butt. Upon further reflection, he realized that in addition to Jake Grafton he needed Sonny Killbuck's submarine expertise, Tommy Carmel-lini's knowledge of Zelda Hudson, and of course, Toad Tarkington. That was five men, and unless they were accompanied by five women, they certainly weren't going to melt into the cruise ship crowd.
Jake thought Callie would want to go — he knew she would want to go — and Toad's wife, Rita Moravia, was home. Jake Grafton nodded enthusiastically and said, "You bet," whenever Rita's name was mentioned. Flap thought his wife might go even though she got seasick in a bathtub — she and Callie could schmooze their way through the passenger list. Flap needed two more women, and he knew whom he wanted. He talked to his chief of staff, and soon two of the toughest drill instructors in the corps had volunteered.
As the group waited to board the plane at Andrews, a man from the State Department — or perhaps he was CIA, he didn't say — arrived with ten passports. All brand-new, U.S. government — issue fakes. Each passport had the proper photo and birthday, but the name and rest of the information were bogus.
Callie didn't like her photo. Rita didn't like her new name— Betty — and Mrs. Le Beau was appalled that the fake passport contained her real birthday. "I don't see why they couldn't have taken five years off," she said to Callie, who shared the sentiment.
The woman marine who was supposed to pretend she was Car-mellini's significant other looked him up and down, then told him, "I've got a boyfriend who could break every bone in your body." "Izzatright?"
"Keep your hands to yourself, lover boy, and think pure thoughts. No funny business."
Her name was Lizzy and she was from Oklahoma. When she wasn't on duty, she worked out in the gym. She had won some amateur bodybuilding competitions and thought she might try professional wrestling when this enlistment was up. Carmellini thought that if bone breaking were on the menu, Lizzy wouldn't need her boyfriend's help.
The airplane that was to fly the group to Lisbon was a civilian Gulfstream, much like the one that EuroSpace owned. Flap thought a military airplane would jeopardize the mission and insisted on a civilian-registered plane. The air force chartered one.
Jake Grafton's first look at the marine general this morning left him agape. Flap Le Beau had shaved his head and wore a large, bushy mustache and a pair of heavy horn-rimmed glasses. The mustache was glued on, of course, but Flap certainly didn't look the way he did yesterday. Part of the makeover was the civilian clothes, which were at least one size too large. He looked like he had lost weight recently. Jake complimented him on the quick change. "Corina shaved my head last night and we went to the mall for a new outfit. The larger clothes were her idea."
As they waited to board, Flap said, "I've got this sick feeling that we're going to be too late."
"The ocean salvage operations I've seen resemble greased-pig contests," Jake remarked. "Nothing goes as planned. These folks are undertaking a tricky salvage operation with
makeshift equipment. I wonder if they've even found the thing." "Surely they know where it is!"
"Zelda Hudson strikes me as a pretty slick operator. So slick, apparently, that Schlegel wanted to get his hands on her."
As they walked out to the plane, Callie said to Flap, "Thanks for including me. This invitation was a godsend. I didn't think I could take another day in that candlelit flat."
"I wouldn't classify this trip as a vacation."
"It is for me! Just watch me enjoy it."
The day was clear as only a September day can be. As the luxury bizjet climbed over the Chesapeake Bay, Jake and Callie leaned against the window trying to spot their Delaware beach. The jet was over New Jersey when it crossed the beach for the first time. It flew over Boston and Nova Scotia before it left North America behind.
Somewhere over the North Atlantic, Callie said to her husband, "I still don't understand why these people are being so sneaky about recovering the satellite. I thought that under international law abandoned ships and things like that belonged to whoever salvaged them."
"You know, I haven't asked the lawyers about that," Jake said. "I'll bet no one else has, either. The satellite was not abandoned — it was lost. Or stolen. And the French government owns some huge minority interest in EuroSpace; they may control it, for all I know. I doubt if the French government wants to go to the edge of the abyss with the Americans over a killer satellite."
The edge of the abyss. Jake thought about that phrase as the jet flew the great circle route to Lisbon. This wasn't, he concluded, a typical hardball business deal for Willi Schlegel. He had been physically present in Newark when Zelda Hudson was snatched — the customs and immigration officers both stated that for a fact. They had seen him and his passport. So Schlegel was betting everything he could steal that satellite and get away with it. Standing trial for kidnapping wasn't on his agenda, either.
Across the aisle, Toad Tarkington was getting reacquainted with his wife, Rita Moravia, who was also in the navy and on leave between assignments. She had arrived home the day before yesterday, hugged the kid and husband, and settled in for a month of domestic bliss. Then Toad informed her he was going on a cruise. "Gotta. It's a nasty job and somebody has to do it."
Rita and Toad were going to spend a week by themselves later that month, so they decided that this would be that week. The babysitter had instructions, her mother would arrive by car that evening, so here they were, on their way to Lisbon.
"Glad you could go with me, hot woman," Toad said. "I've really missed you. I told Admiral Grafton that we planned on spending the whole cruise in bed."
"And what did he say?"
"Just laughed."
"I missed you, Toadman," Rita said. "Hold my hand." And she slipped her hand in his.
In the row behind Toad and Rita, Tommy Carmellini was getting acquainted with Lizzy. "What do you like about pro wrestling?" he asked.
"It's my favorite thing," Lizzy replied. "Aren't you a fan?"
"Alas, no. My schedule…"
"It's life in microcosm. The story lines make me want to cry and laugh at the same time, you know? They're just so… so…"
"Story lines?"
"You're not a marine. What do you do for a living, anyway?"
"Civil service. Paperwork and stuff. Pretty boring. Tell me about the story lines."
Lizzy took a deep breath and began.
Flap Le Beau married later than most of his colleagues. When he finally tied the knot he was past forty and had his first star. The woman he married, Corina, was a college professor who ran a home for troubled youth when she wasn't working her day job. Flap had grown up on the streets — he knew the problems she willingly faced dealing with troubled kids. He became her biggest fan, helped her all he could, then decided they should tie the knot and go through life together. She had been married once before and wasn't anxious for another round of matrimony, but Flap persisted. He knew what he wanted, and she was it. Through sheer perseverance he finally overcame her defenses.
On the way to Portugal he sat in the front of the passenger cabin with Corina and told her about the mission. "Just be yourself," he advised. "You're a college professor who runs a home for kids. That will minimize the acting requirements."
"And who will you be?" Corina asked.
"A retired marine, I think. Collecting those retirement checks every month, fishing, and keeping busy helping you with the kids. We needed a little break, so here we are. That story works, doesn't it?"
"When you retire, are you going to help me?"
"Woman, did you ever have any doubts?"
"No," she admitted, "I never did."
She laughed then, and Flap Le Beau leaned back in his seat and grinned.
Jake Grafton was looking out the window when his wife whispered to him, "Thanks for bringing me along. I appreciate you sharing your burdens."
He squeezed her hand and grinned.
He had explained last night when he invited her to come. "There is some danger involved. I need your help, but this is no vacation. If you don't want to come, I'll understand. We're going to sink a ship. People are probably going to die."
"What do you and Flap think will happen?"
"America will eventually recover the satellite and rendezvous with the cruise ship or a cable layer that's anchored in Cadiz harbor. We have U-2s, Sentry AWACS planes, and recon satellites watching this area continuously. Our job is to call the P-3s on satellite telephones if America slips in under this cruise ship. There're more than a dozen P-3s at Rota, Spain. They'll hunt America using active sonar, then destroy her with torpedoes. Obviously, we'd like to wait until she has recovered the satellite."
"And the satellite?"
"We'll send it to the bottom with America, or thank Willi Schlegel and take it home."
"Why do you think America might rendezvous with the cruise ship?"
He explained that Schlegel had kidnapped Zelda Hudson, and they thought he was aboard this ship. "He's at the vortex of this mess."
Callie was silent for a moment, then asked, "And if something goes wrong?"
"There's a carrier battle group in the Med headed west for Gibraltar and one out of Jacksonville transiting east. The president was firm — do whatever it takes to get the satellite and the sub."
Knowing all that, she had chosen to come. "I want to help any way I can."
Today over the North Atlantic, with the sun shining in through the windows of the airplane, he squeezed her hand again.
When Zelda Hudson awoke, she was lying in a hospital bed wearing handcuffs. A uniformed nurse was in attendance. When she saw that her patient was awake, the nurse went to a telephone and made a call.
Her head thumped and she felt groggy. And slightly nauseated. Gathering her strength, Zelda tried to move and discovered that she was restrained on the bed with straps. And that she was wearing a catheter.
As she stared at the strange room and the woman in white whom she didn't recognize, the memories came flooding back. The explosion at the roof door, the stair swinging down, the men rushing in as chopper noise filled the room..
She remembered one of the men hitting Zip. Then… nothing.
So where was she?
She started to ask the nurse, then changed her mind. Don't say a word to these people.
A strange hospital, with little doors and metal walls and___Oh,
my God! She was on a ship!
A man came in, sixty-something, tan. She recognized him from his photos. Willi Schlegel. Two other men followed him in. The one in the white coat had a stethoscope draped around his neck.
"Ah, Ms. Hudson. I am Willi Schlegel. Welcome to my world."
She said nothing.
"You must be wondering where you are. You are aboard Sea Wind, which is a luxury liner, or cruise ship, as you Americans call it. We are currently anchored in Lisbon harbor. We will sail tomorrow and eventually rendezvous with USS America, which will transfer the satellite to us. The men aboard Americ
a are recovering it now."
Zelda Hudson looked at the doctor, the nurse, the third man,
looked for a friendly face and didn't find one. They're bought and paid for, she thought.
"I thought you should be with us for the glorious moment," Schlegel said, "when the satellite comes aboard. I knew you would want to see it, to savor the moment of our triumph. It was a magnificent operation, and you did it. Of course, you also did many things you weren't supposed to — all those missiles to earn money from Antoine Jouany…" He clucked his tongue.
"You are greedy, Ms. Hudson. A greedy, unpredictable, unreliable genius. For all those reasons I thought you should be here with us, rather than sitting in front of your bank of computers in Newark making mischief."
She wondered if Zip was dead. She started to ask, then changed her mind. This asshole would tell her anything. He probably didn't know the truth. Or care.
Schlegel waited for a moment, waited for her to speak, and when she didn't, he turned away. She waited until he was out of the room before she said to the doctor, "I want off this damn bed and I want to go to the bathroom."
The doctor nodded to the nurse, who began removing the restraints. The man who had entered the room with the doctor stood against the wall and watched.
A Gulfstream is the Cadillac of business jets; people who arrive in one get the same courtesy and respect in Portugal as they do in New Jersey. Portuguese immigration and customs waved a friendly hand and the five couples walked to two stretch limos that the embassy had waiting while the limo drivers — CIA agents — unloaded the baggage and stowed it in the trunks. Since a problem at the airport with customs would have ruined everything, the contents of the luggage were completely benign. The weapons, ammunition, and satellite telephones had arrived under diplomatic cover earlier in the day and were already in the limos.
The scene on the dock was the usual hustle and bustle. Buses, taxis, and limos arrived in a steady stream, officers greeted people and handed out cabin and dining assignments, ship's crewmen checked lists and loaded luggage with a crane into a cargo sponson,
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