Silent Thunder

by Iris Johansen

  "We've set it up so that he thinks he has a good reason to go after us now. If he knows the final answer is definitely in that computer, nothing will stop him."

  "Then that's even better. Get me there, let me take it out of the computer. Just give me a little time."

  Kirov stepped on the accelerator. "I'll give you what time I can. After that we do what we planned. We go after Pavski."

  The navigation computer.

  Pavski inhaled sharply as he continued to gaze down at the photo of the statue he'd received on the helicopter ten minutes ago.

  It could be what the quote meant.

  It was what the quote meant. He felt it in his bones.

  And if there was no fourth plate, then Kirov was luring him to the sub as a trap.

  It didn't matter.

  The Silent Thunder was now exactly where Pavski wanted to be. Nothing on earth or hell would keep him off that sub. He'd been planning on a certain amount of caution in his approach. No longer. He'd blast anyone who tried to stop him to hell.

  The cradle was there, waiting for him.

  No sign of Pavski." Hannah looked up and down the pier as she jumped out of the car. "I was afraid he might beat us here."

  "He can't be far behind." Kirov was beside her by the time they reached the blue iron gate that now cordoned off the submarine exhibit's loading ramp.

  A ruddy-faced guard held up his hands. "Whoa there. Let's stop and-"

  "I'm Hannah Bryson." She shoved her ID badge toward him. "Has anyone else been here yet today?"

  "Uh, no." He frowned. "Ms. Bryson, I didn't know you were scheduled to-"

  "Change of plans. Are you the only guard on duty?"

  "No. James is taking a walk-around in the museum."

  "Give me the key to the gate leading to the gangplank." Kirov took two walkie-talkies from the security station next to him and tossed one to Hannah. "Hurry."

  The guard handed the key to him. "I could unlock it for-"

  "No, I'm keeping the key." Kirov unlocked the gate, pushed Hannah through, and locked it behind them. "Get that other guard over here. The two of you take cover and radio us if anyone else comes and tries to board the sub."

  "Take cover? Sir, we're armed. No one is getting on the sub who we don't want to get on."

  "There may be a lot of firepower coming this way," Hannah said. "Get help and take cover, dammit. Don't make yourself an easy target."

  The guard spoke into his walkie-talkie. "James, I need you at the Silent Thunder loading ramp ASAP."

  "Copy that. I'm on my way."

  "The aft hatch, Hannah," Kirov said curtly as he ran toward the sub. A moment later they were moving through the narrow C-Deck corridor, past the galley, and finally to the control room.

  Kirov stared at the dark instrument plates. "There's no power." He glanced around. "But the lights are on."

  Hannah nodded. "We tapped an AC landline to power the illumination and ventilation systems, and we dropped a few outlets so we could use our tools." She switched on a small color monitor that relayed a security-camera image from the conning tower. "I was hoping that they'd managed to power the other systems by now."

  "Well, they haven't. We're literally dead in the water."

  "Not for long." Hannah moved quickly toward the corridor. "I'll start the diesel engine. That will generate the power we need."

  "Is there fuel?"

  "The tanks were almost full when it arrived."

  "Hurry." His gaze lifted to the video monitor focusing on the pier. "I'll keep an eye on things here."

  Hannah ran the length of the sub until she reached an iron ladder that took her two floors below to the engineering room. She passed the empty compartments that once housed the twin nuclear reactors, then finally stepped in front of the auxiliary power panel.

  She flipped the conductor and ignition switches. A low rumbling shook the sub. After another moment, sharp diesel fumes wafted up to her.

  She grabbed the red boot handle and pushed it upward, activating the main power generator.

  The engineering plates lit up!

  "All systems go, Hannah," Kirov called. "The navigational computer is booting up."

  She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I'm on my way back."

  Hannah ran into the control room. "Is the navigational computer online yet?"

  "It's still booting up. Remember, this system probably has only a tenth of the power as a child's modern PlayStation console." Kirov stiffened as he glanced at the security monitor. "He's here."

  "What?"

  "Pavski."

  Hannah looked up to see a van roaring through the museum parking lot. The guard stood at his post, but his gun was drawn and at his side.

  "That fool," Kirov muttered. "I told him-" He spoke into the walkie-talkie. "Take cover, dammit."

  No answer from the guard.

  The van bore down on the guard, showing no sign of slowing down.

  "It's too late," Kirov said.

  They watched, speechless, as the guard raised his gun. Before he could fire a single shot, the van struck him. His lifeless body crumpled against the fence.

  Hannah looked away. Christ almighty.

  "Are all hatches secured?" Kirov asked.

  "My God…"

  "I need you here, Hannah. Are the hatches secured?"

  She nodded. "Yes."

  Kirov turned back to the monitor. Four men jumped from the van and rushed toward the iron gate that led to the sub's gangplank. "Pavski and three others." He asked curtly, "Do you really think you can trick this computer into believing the Silent Thunder has traveled to the coordinates on those plates?"

  Hannah turned to the navigation panel. "Yes, but it's going to take time."

  "We don't have time."

  Hannah glanced at the monitor. One of Pavski's men had fired up a blowtorch and was using it on the gate.

  Kirov pulled out his automatic and checked the magazine. "He'll be through that gate in two minutes and through the hatch five minutes after that."

  "There's got to be a way that-" Hannah glanced desperately around the control panel. "Maybe we can-" Her mind was racing. She stiffened as a thought came to her. Crazy.

  Not so crazy. But, Jesus, could it work?

  Kirov's gaze was narrowed on her face. "What?"

  "Let's take her out."

  Kirov went still. "By out, you mean…"

  "Out. Out to sea. It'll buy me the time I need with the computer."

  "This is a fifteen-thousand-ton attack submarine. You think that just the two of us can-"

  "Yes!" She punched the security-camera switch, which offered a view of the bow, the exterior fence, at the harbor beyond. "You take the conn, and I'll man the engine room. We'll head straight out with as much power as we can. No turns, no dives, nothing fancy. Then we'll work on the navigational computer."

  "You know Pavski will come after us."

  "I'm counting on it." She smiled into his eyes. "Aren't you?"

  He nodded slowly. "One last mission…"

  "We can do it."

  "Once more into the breach, old girl?" Kirov said softly as he glanced around the command room.

  The commander was back, Hannah thought. She could almost feel the authority, the dynamic force, the love for the sub that had driven him all those years ago. She cleared her throat. "When you say 'old girl,' you'd better be talking to the sub."

  He didn't answer.

  "She deserves one last voyage. Doesn't she, Captain?"

  Kirov nodded. "Aye. She deserves it."

  Watch out!"

  Pavski pulled Koppel down as the second guard's bullets pinged against the iron gate. Pavski whirled around with his AK-47, but one of his other men blew the guard away before he could even line up his shot.

  Koppel shrugged off Pavski's hands and swung the blowtorch away from his midsection. "Be careful, dammit. You almost roasted my nuts off." He adjusted his goggles and continued cutting through the gate.

&nb
sp; The Silent Thunder's diesel engines rumbled louder. The water off its stern churned and foamed.

  Koppel froze and looked up. "What the hell's happening?"

  Pavski began to curse in disbelief.

  The steel cables snapped, whipping ferociously around Pavski and the men on the pier.

  The iron mooring posts exploded from the concrete.

  Then, as if awakening from a long slumber, the Silent Thunder groaned and slowly moved toward the fence separating it from the harbor.

  TWENTY

  Christ, they'd done it. They'd done it. They'd done it!

  The movement was lumbering and sluggish, but the sub was actually moving, Hannah realized thankfully.

  "Get up here, Hannah," Kirov called. "You can't do anything down there now that we've got the engines started."

  She was already on her way. A moment later she entered the engine room to see Kirov watching the monitor as the Silent Thunder drew close to the museum fence.

  She tensed as the sub drew closer.

  Closer.

  Then suddenly the Silent Thunder was on top of the fence.

  The sub plowed over the fence without the slightest bit of resistance!

  "Hallelujah," she murmured.

  Too soon. Alarm sirens sounded deep within the submarine.

  Kirov turned toward her. "What the hell is that?"

  "The museum must have installed an alarm after what happened to Conner. It's probably tied to the same power cells as the cameras and work lights."

  Kirov ran to the periscope, flipped down the handles and peered into the eyepiece. "We should clear the harbor with no problem, but our maneuverability is extremely limited. You'd better get what you need from the navigational computer in a hurry."

  She turned to the computer. "Are we almost finished booting up?"

  "Another minute or so."

  Hurry.

  Be ready.

  She quickly pulled open a drawer in the command center, looked inside, and moved to the next one. Find it.

  Please let it be in the next drawer. No luck. It wasn't in the next one or the drawer after that.

  Kirov frowned. "What the devil are you doing?"

  "I have to find it…"

  "What are you looking for?"

  Thank heavens. There it was.

  She finally pulled a package of Beeman's chewing gum from the drawer. "Conner always kept a supply stashed wherever he was working."

  "Funny time to get a craving."

  "Can't stand the stuff." She unwrapped several sticks and shoved them into her mouth.

  "Well, that clears things up." He turned toward the computer. "Whatever you plan to do, you'd better start doing it."

  She picked up a stool and swung it toward a small speaker mounted over the hatch. She struck it repeatedly until the speaker housing splintered and the coil dangled from the bulkhead, gripped the magnet in her hands, and yanked it free. "Keep your radio on. I'm heading up."

  Pavski turned the steering wheel and spun into the marina parking lot two miles south of the maritime museum. He glanced at the harbor, where the Silent Thunder's conning tower receded into the distance.

  Koppel peered though his binoculars. "They're heading straight out to sea. If they manage to submerge…"

  "They won't. They don't have the equipment or manpower to pull that off. It's a miracle they managed to get it out there." He leaped from the van and ran to the gangway, his gaze frantically scanning the marina for the right boat.

  Slow-as-molasses sailboats, pleasure craft, and houseboats.

  Nothing fast enough, he realized with frustration. He needed power and speed and enough space for him and his men. Not these pussy-

  Wait a second.

  There, only twenty yards in front of him, a narrow-beam powerboat stood at the ready.

  Perfect.

  Hannah climbed the narrow conning tower tube, holding the magnets she had torn from three different speakers on the way up.

  Diesel fumes. Thick, nauseating.

  The alarm sirens pounded her brain.

  Keep steady…

  She adjusted her headset. "Support team, do you read me?"

  Kirov responded. "May I point out that I'm the one standing on the bridge? Now you're the support team."

  "I stand corrected. Is the navigational computer receiving magnetic compass readings from the repeaters?"

  "Affirmative."

  She climbed up the ladder until she found herself facing the sub's magnetic compass module. Surrounded by metal coils to shield it from stray magnetic forces of the hull, this compass was generally only used early in the sub's voyages. The more accurate gyroscopic compass took several hours to calibrate itself after powering up. This was the only game in town.

  One of her first recommendations had been to remove the compass and place it in the exhibit building, where it could be more easily seen by museumgoers. Thank goodness the crew hadn't gotten to it yet.

  Hooking one foot around the railing for balance, she leaned forward and placed several magnets on its metallic face.

  "The readings are fluctuating," Kirov said.

  "Good. Longitude or latitude?"

  "Both, but mostly longitude."

  Hannah shifted a magnet down an inch. "This will be like cracking a safe. I'm going to move the magnets around until we get to forty-one-point-five degrees longitude. Understand?"

  "Yes. We're way off right now-about eighty-five degrees north."

  Hannah moved the magnets left. "How about now?"

  "Better. Seventy-two degrees."

  Hannah continued to move the magnet as Kirov called out: "Sixty-three… fifty-eight… fifty-one… forty-seven… forty-three… stop! You've got it."

  Hannah tore off a piece of the chewing gum in her mouth. She affixed it to the magnet and stuck it to the compass housing. "Are we still okay?"

  "It's drifting."

  "That's because we're moving. I'll make more adjustments after I get the latitude. Ready?"

  Kirov was silent for a moment. "Make it fast, Hannah. Pavski and his men have a boat. They're approaching from the stern."

  The salt water sprayed Pavski's face as the powerboat neared the Silent Thunder. He pointed to the conning tower. "Watch up there," he shouted over the engines. "If we're going to be fired on, it'll be from the tower."

  Koppel turned from the wheel. "Where should we approach?"

  "At the stern. There are cleats to tie off there. We'll climb on top, plant the charges, and blow the rear escape hatch. Got it?"

  Koppel nodded, staring ahead at the dark leviathan cutting through the water. "It's amazing."

  "What?"

  "There's still life in that old sub. I didn't know she had it in her."

  "It's a relic," Pavski said. "Just like Kirov."

  Koppel eased back on the throttle as they pulled alongside the Silent Thunder's massive tail fins. The sub's engine knocked and rattled, and the pungent smoke of burned diesel fuel wafted over them.

  "Take the rope and snag one of those cleats."

  It took two tries, but one of the sailors managed to do it.

  "Good!" Pavski yelled over the engine. "Pull us closer."

  A moment later they were bumping against the hull and tying off the rope.

  Pavski picked up his two backpacks and tossed them onto the Silent Thunder's topside deck.

  "The three of you climb aboard," Koppel said. "I'll keep the boat steady."

  Pavski shot him a cold glance. "I need you in there too, Koppel."

  "After you're on, I'll cut the engines and climb aboard myself. Go!"

  As they left the relatively calm waters of the harbor, Pavski and the others jumped from the boat and used a series of small crevices in the Silent Thunder's rubbery acoustic coating to pull themselves up to the top deck. "Careful. The seas are getting rougher."

  Koppel cut the powerboat's ignition and climbed up to join them. "Aren't the hatches stronger than the rest of the sub?" he shouted. />
  Pavski was already digging into his knapsack for the explosive charges. "Trust me, two of these charges on the devices on the rear hatch will put us face-to-face with Kirov in less than five minutes."

  Hannah wiped the sweat from her eyes as she adjusted the magnets again. Dammit, she couldn't manipulate the compass to read the correct longitude and latitude simultaneously.

  "Give it up," Kirov said over the radio. "It was always a long shot."

  "I can't give it up. Pavski's not going to get that cradle. If I can just move it another few degrees…"

  "We're out of time. Pavski and his men will be charging down the corridor at any moment. I have to be ready for them. I can't focus on this any longer."

  "Keep your eyes on that monitor. Where's the compass at?"

  "The longitude is still three degrees shy. Forget it."

  "Please. Just another few seconds."

  "We don't have any seconds to spare. You're through."

  "What about now?"

  "Hannah, stop it. We need to-"

  Kirov's voice went silent.

  Hannah held the magnets in place, not daring to breathe. "Hello?"

  Kirov's voice finally broke the silence. "Good God."

  Kirov stared at the navigational computer's amber screen. One moment, Hannah's generated 41.5 degrees longitude/112 degrees latitude had filled the screen, in the next an entirely different set of coordinates popped up: 32.4° E Longitude 44.1° N Latitude.

  Hannah, you're a goddamn miracle.

  "We've got it!" he said into the microphone. "It looks like it's in the Black Sea. I'll write it down."

  "Hurry. It may disappear once we drift off the coordinates."

  He scribbled the figures on one of Hannah's discarded chewing gum wrappers. "Got it. Meet me in the forward torpedo room, Hannah."

  "Why?"

  "Change of plans. And if you get there before I do, get yourself into an MK10."

  She was silent, but he could sense the shock that went through her.

  "Do it, Hannah. No arguments. You're support, not command right now."

  "MK10. Are you sure about this?"

  "It's the only way. I'll see you down there."

  Kirov turned back to the computer and kicked it repeatedly, smashing the console with his left heel. Sparks flew, and the monitor went dark.