Hunter Killer

by Geoffrey Jenkins

  Nonsense!' Peace retorted.

  I was glad that Tyler had to use his hands to hold the intercom. Otherwise he might have been at Peace's throat. He listened again. Goddam it! Here in the bay?'

  He rammed it down. His face was livid. He said slowly,

  Peace—or whatever your name is—if that goddam' sub of

  yours doesn't stop jamming me, I'll—I'll—sink her!'

  Revs,' MKG interposed, pull yourself together! I recog98 nize Commander Peace—I know him personally. Why would a

  British sub jam you anyway?'

  ' British?' Tyler flared. Does a friendly sub jam another on a top-secret mission like this? You'll all stay here until I'

  ve sorted this one out.' He pushed past to the door.

  Revs!' called MKG. The tough skipper paused. 'If you go on like this, you'll live to regret it.'

  There was a moment's uncertainty about Tyler, then he said curtly, ' If this guy had been who he said he was, I might ... No! I wasn't sure, even then. Now it's the other way. I'm signalling New London. Then I'm going after Semittanté.' Will you take it upon yourself to act in direct opposition to the orders of the President? You have your orders. Obey them!'

  The cabin did not seem big enough to hold three such towering personalities.

  Revs shook his head, as if trying to clear it. ' My orders

  •

  MKG'S voice was resonant, hard. I order you to go ahead with the mission as planned!'

  Tyler jerked round, so that his face was away from MKG. He picked up the intercom. Dan! Get that other sub. Signal her skipper is coming on a trial evolution with Willow- track. Yeah, that's what I said, trial evolution. Say he'll be away a day or two. And, if you can get past that jamming, say Commander Peace's orders are that the sub must remain here in the Bay of the Two Capitaines until—until further orders. Got that?'

  Peace moved towards Tyler. The big American put down the intercom, his hands hanging ready at his sides.

  T y l e r — '

  ' Keep back!' he replied. Keep away from me, Peace. You're a prisoner and you and Garland will stay so. You can't get away. Like on a plane, you can't step outside.'

  Peace turned with a gesture of his hand towards MKG. Tyler spoke into another phone. Lou! Tell that other sub's dinghy to stand clear. Pull the plug. Sixty feet. Handsomely. Use the pumps.'

  The speaker clicked on. Captain—Control: ship rigged

  for dive and compensated.'

  I could see the impact of his decision upon Tyler. The tall, rangy figure seemed to sag slightly. At the door, he half reached out his hand towards MKG but, as if ashamed of the gesture, hastily plunged it into the cigar box.

  You're already smoking, Revs ! ' MKG'S voice struck like a sjambok.

  Tyler ground out the cigar savagely. I am, goddammit.'

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  Listen for the last time, Revs,' said MKG. I have a date

  to keep with Little Bear. I mean to keep it.'

  Not this way,' repeated Tyler doggedly. ' I'll go after the freighter first. Little Bear!'

  mKG's voice sharpened. One of the very few prototypes

  of Little Bear.

  Aye,' retorted the big American. ' That's the kicker.' He

  glared at Peace and myself. I'd say this whole story is a

  frame-up to get a classified weapon to the Reds and to kidnap the Vice-President of the United States.'

  God's truth—' began Peace, but Tyler was gone, the

  door slamming behind him. Within seconds came the familiar

  whirr of the pumps and the rush of water as Willowtrack

  started to submerge. It is a delicate manceuvre to take a

  nuclear sub down without engines, but Tyler rightly boasted he had a Gold Crew. She went down smooth as a lift.

  MKG and Peace stood silent. There was nothing we could

  do. We were completely in Tyler's hands.

  Mica took one of Tyler's cigars and lit it, staring at the

  burning tip. It's the way we planned it or nothing,' he said at length.

  I said, Tyler sees his duty to the office of the VicePresident as overruling all other considerations.'

  He didn't give me time even to explain about the CIA man,

  the leak and all the rest of it,' added Peace.

  ' Revs is the low man on the totem-pole,' MKG answered wryly. Strange, having someone else try and teach one one's duty as Vice-President. I thought his loyalty to me—'

  I don't understand the jamming of Willowtrack's radio by Devastation,' said Peace. I don't like it, either. I gave no orders.'

  The thought struck me like a body-blow: suppose it wasn't

  Devastation?

  What if there's another sub in the bay?' I asked swiftly. What if the CIA had another United States nuclear sub shadow us?'

  No,' replied Peace. The u.s. Navy's too deep in this, isn'

  t it, MKG?'

  The Vice-President nodded.

  ' But what if it's a Red sub?' Peace continued.

  My god!' exclaimed MKG as we stared at him. Maybe I'

  ll need Revs's protection after all. What makes you say that, Commander?'

  Peace glanced at me. The girl, Adele. What if she has homed a Red sub on to us?'

  The thought left me sick.

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  `We'll find out—soon!' snapped Peace. MKG, what have you aboard this sub that you need for the Little Bear launch?'

  MKG rose slowly to his feet, dropping the cigar unheedingly on the table. ' I don't get you. Space-suit—instruments—

  anything like that?'

  No. Boz Blair's got the space-suit and other gear.' He

  stared, puzzled, at Peace. I've got a few countdown details

  —a few of the final stable table settings, but Boz has duplicates of them all. The White House code, of course.'

  Nothing heavy you need?'

  What have you got in mind, Commander?'

  Tyler said you can't simply step outside a submarine. But

  you can, you know. Blow and go 1'

  Blow and go?'

  We must hurry, while Tyler is in. the Control Centre.

  Every nuclear sub has three escape hatches—'

  Peace's daring plan broke upon me when I remembered the

  escape tube Bob Peters had shown me when conducting me

  round Devastation. He had told me of the three escape routes: the usual one via the bridge and sail, and two others, one for'ard and one aft. I had seen the forward

  escape trunk myself. The hatches leading from these escape

  trunks were the only ones in the ship which were independent of the main ballast-control panel. The men escaping operated them.

  MKG stood transfixed at Peace's rapid explanation. ' But when they see us with escape gear ..

  No, no! No apparatus is needed. That's why it's called

  blow and go. All you have to do once you're inside the hatch is to equalize the air pressure inside the escape tube with that of the ocean outside. You allow water into the trunk

  until pressure is equal. Then, you just open a side hatch and step out into the water. You heard Tyler say we'll only be

  sixty feet down. It's a piece of cake at that depth.

  But our lungs will burst.' MKG hesitated.

  There isn't time to explain it all now—you'll have to take

  my word for it. It's a well-tried and tested method—buoyant ascent, it's called. You get compressed air in your lungs in the escape tube. As you rise to the surface, the compressed air expands and blows itself out.'

  No masks?'

  No, there is no equipment at all. It takes only about six

  seconds to rise to the surface from sixty feet. Can you swim?'

  MKG grinned. Let's go, fellahs 1'

  ' Devastation's dinghy won't be far,' I added.

  101

  It was unbelievably easy. MKG led. We made our way

  down the short passageway to the cabin which MKG shared with
the SINS expert, who was at his general quarters station in the control-room. MKG flung open a suitcase, took out some documents, tied them into a plastic bag which previously had held a shirt, and thrust the parcel into his seakhakis' pocket. He scrabbled deeper and pulled out a flat wooden case.

  You won't want a pistol,' Peace said.

  This isn't an ordinary hand-gun.' He snapped it open. There, with 100 shells banked round, was the finest weapon I had ever seen. It looked like a pistol, but it had a bolt action.

  Remington XP 100,' MKG said tersely._ 221 Fire Ball shells—

  highest velocity ever fired by a hand-gun. Sort of holster rifle.'

  Peace found another plastic shirt-cover in which he wrapped the gun, while MKG did the same to some other papers. In the passageway I felt naked. I wanted to rush. MKG sauntered casually, talking to Peace as if he were showing

  him the ship.

  We reached the main forward bulkhead which separates the

  torpedo compartment from the rest of the ship--one of the

  five main watertight compartments into which the hull is

  divided. My stomach dropped as we stepped over the high

  lintel. Fear of discovery vied with fear of the unknown plunge into the sea which Peace had outlined. I shut the

  bulkhead door behind us. The narrow passageway ahead was lined with light-alloy bunks, their Pullman-type curtains

  drawn. The 20-foot-long Mk 18 torpedoes, loaded with 500

  lbs of TNT in the head and driven by over a ton of mixed water, alcohol and hydrogen peroxide, seemed as outmoded

  as a spear compared to a carbine in the deadly complexity

  of Willowtrack's main armament. Two torpedo-men were checking the tubes. One of them paused, his hand on a big clamp. The news obviously hadn't reached them yet.

  Hi, MKG ! he called cheerfully. We fixed the homing gear in t'other sonofabitch. You were right on the pickle-barrel about the trouble.'

  The other crewman grinned and Mica, acting magnificently,

  replied, Well, that's sure good, fellahs—the thing won't run and hit us in the ass, now.'

  They all laughed. MKG said, You guys, I want you to meet Commander Peace, from the British sub. He's coming

  for a ride with us. Wants to see Willowtrack's escape gear.'

  102

  Can't leave this right now,' replied the other torpedoman. But Jeez, MKG—help yourself.'

  Close t'hatch, willya—there's going to be some hammering in a moment,' added the first man.

  Sure, boys, I'll do that.

  We edged through a low steel door. Peace slammed it. In

  front of us was the ' trunk ', a heavy bronze tube running

  out of sight into the bulkhead. Hung round it from the steel beams were sacks of onions for the galley. It struck a homely note. Peace flung his weight against the big locking dogs and snapped open the hatch into the tube.

  Aren't there any lights?' I asked.

  Peace's voice came from inside. Somewhere here is a self-illuminating dial. Quick!'

  MKG gave a quick glance about and edged in. I followed. Peace clamped the hatch shut behind us. I felt the smooth

  polish of the coffin-like interior. It is one thing to be shown an escape apparatus as an interested bystander, another to

  stake one's life on it. I wished I had listened more carefully to Bob Peters.

  Here's the ladder to the upper hatch,' said Peace's disembodied voice. ' Wait, here's a toggle by the clock.' I heard the click of the switch and a faint light came on from the self-contained waterproof of batteries. The depth needle steadied as Willowtrack took up her periscope depth. The bronze glowed evilly in the poor light.

  Strip!' ordered Peace.

  MKG unzipped his khaki and I tugged at buttons. Then MKG stood in his underpants, the Remington in one hand and his two plastic-wrapped packets of documents in the other.

  The gurgling of the forward trim tank echoed through the

  confined space.

  Peace put his foot on the first rung of the ladder. ' Right? Remember, ballast-control will sense it as soon as I flood.'

  He indicated two valves at chest level. When the pressure

  equalizes, open those and step out, John.'

  Peace swung himself up. A locking wheel creaked. A

  stream of sea-water cascaded in. However hardened a submariner is, this is still the awful moment he fears above all else—when water comes rushing in., In a moment it was up

  to our knees.

  Pressure—watch it!' called Peace.

  My eyes went to the big dial. The needle was swinging

  upwards. God! It seemed loaded with lead!

  The water rose to my thighs. Suddenly there was a new

  103

  note. The diving officer had detected the inrush of water.

  He was pumping water from the for'ard trim tank.

  Our discarded clothes, as if unwilling to be separated from us, clung soggily around our bodies. Peace spun the valve to its maximum. The water shot up to our armpits.

  Pressure!'

  My ears roared as the air compressed in the upper area of

  the trunk. I began to feel dizzy. Breathing was difficult. Blow and go!' commanded Peace.

  I nodded to MKG and inadvertently took a deep breath. It was like a hot iron shoved into my chest. I started to cry out, but I knew I had to save every breath of air for the ascent. I plunged under, tugged hard at the wheel valve. It seemed to come away in my hand—it was in perfect order.

  Don't hold your breath!' warned Peace.

  I ducked under and spun the second locking valve. With quite unnecessary force I tugged at the escape door. It opened as if it had been counter-balanced. I paused. A faint sunlight glow of green came from above as I stood poised on the metal step. Then I lurched forward. An iron band

  clamped round my chest. The pain was acute. I let go my breath and shot upwards. Bubbles boiled from my mouth, uncontrollably. The pain vanished. It was like stepping into an ever-lightening room. Deep green changed to light, to turquoise, to blue—I was blinking in bright sunshine! I was on the surface. Devastation's black hull was close and our dinghy was stroking for it.

  There was a splash near me—MKG! He screwed up his

  eyes, grinned and swam awkwardly to me, keeping the Remington and his papers clear. Before he could speak, Peace broke surface.

  He laughed. Blow and go! You need a tranquillizer beforehand, Commander!'

  Peace cupped his hands. 'Devastation! Boat ahoy! Here!'

  In reaction, I found myself laughing out loud at the stunned surprise of the four ratings. They gazed unbelievingly as our clothes appeared one garment by one in slow motion from the depths.

  The men dug their paddles in. The petty officer in charge

  burst out, Strike a bleeding light! It's. Commander .Peace!'

  Jesus!' exclaimed a rating.

  The third poised his paddle in mid-stroke. ' The skipper'e'

  s become a flaming merman!'

  ' Slap it about!' retorted Peace good-humouredly. Just

  testing Willowtrack's escape gear. Here, haul us aboard.' The petty officer looked uncertainly at MKG "Im too, sir?'

  104

  Peace grinned "Im too. Now—Devastation! Smartly, lads.

  The boat sped across the water. There was a burst of

  chatter from the men on the deck casing. Peace, naked except for his underpants, stood up.

  Peters, on the flying bridge, stood thunderstruck. ' Sir l'

  This is an exercise!' yelled Peace. Clear the casing!

  Clear the bridge! Stand by to dive!'

  We hustled unceremoniously through the forward hatch.

  The diving alarm sounded as we reached the control-room.

  Peace, dripping water, went to the diving-stand.

  Peters's agitated voice came through the bridge speaker.

  Control—Bridge. All clear topside.'

  Officers; automatically c
arrying out the drill, did not take their eyes off Peace. They—and the crew—would talk about

  this until it became a legend.

  Jettison the anchor!' snapped Peace.

  Jettison the anchor—aye aye, sir!' repeated a startled

  junior officer and spoke rapidly to the torpedo-room. No

  time to rig the ship to dive and compensate her. Peace was

  taking her down like a train, relying on his own skill and the diving officer's.

  ' Shut the induction, Bob!' he ordered.

  The toggle on the BCP went over ; the hatch clanged to. Open the vents!' said Peace. Take her down! Periscope

  depth! Left full rudder! Ahead flank! Course two-sevenzero. Smartly!'

  The diving officer's hands raced across the panel. Engineroom annunciators flicked to maximum speed. I felt the propeller bite and Devastation, badly out of trim but diving hard, swung in a half-circle to take her westwards out of the bay. Peace called, Sounding!'

  Forty feet!'

  There were less than thirty under us! If a coral finger projected from this uncharted bottom .. . Follow the bottom down to the thirty-fathom mark. I want continuous soundings.' Peace beckoned to me. ' It's

  thirty fathoms for about a mile westwards of the point. After that it falls away to a couple of thousand. I'm taking her

  deep.'

  You don't think Tyler hasn't heard all this fuss of our

  getaway?' I asked sombrely. Willowtrack is good—bloody good Geoffrey.

  Tyler will come after us, you can be sure of that,' he

  replied tersely. Sonar?'

  105

  Confused echoes bearing one-eight-zero degrees, range

  two thousand yards. Can't make anything of it yet, sir!'

  Two thousand yards! That meant we had a flying start

  over Willowtrack. Sonar is not accurate under 2,000 yards. Willowtrack would be having our own listening problems, exaggerated by the racing propeller and St Brandon's broken agglomeration of coral-heads, islets and reefs. On our present course, however, we would soon be in deep water. Peace knew that the hot sun must have created a thermal layer

  in the water offshore anything up to 200 feet deep. Sound—

  even the sound of our full-ahead engines—would be distorted, reflected, deflected, by this layer. I guessed he would play the layer to the full, but he would lose it pretty soon if he headed deep and far from the land as apparently he was

  doing. For the moment, however, we were safe by virtue of