by Jenn Lees
Rory grabbed Angus’ arm and they walked through their campsite to the equipment.
“Ye must sail afore the tide goes out or ye risk running this sub to ground.” Murdo followed giving his expert advice. “And ye must nae do that! Breech the hull and ye’ll expose us all. So far, I’m thinkin’, the sub’s contained the radiation. I’m sure the submarine is intact. As it is, ye will have tae sail her out while she’s up and not submerge her until oot in The Minch.”
“We’re running out of time. Let’s do this while they are distracted.” Rory hated the thought of goodbyes. His throat tightened at the prospect of a goodbye to Siobhan.
Angus and Murdo collected equipment as they passed the computer where the detonators were, and crossed the grass, heading for the fisherman’s boat. Once on board and the motor revved, Rory looked toward their camp. Siobhan ran to the boat.
“Stop,” he ordered Murdo. “Please.”
Siobhan ran onto the makeshift pier as he jumped out of the boat.
Rory stepped toward her and grabbed her around her waist. She leaned her body into him as he bent over and pressed his lips firmly onto hers. His hand slid behind her head into her tight French roll, and his fingers pulled her hair out of it. He’d imagined himself doing this so many times while riding behind her on their journey here. Her soft, honey-blonde tresses floated around his hand. Her trembling mouth was warm under his and gave back everything he put out.
If this was to be his only time with her, he would let her know how he felt. He broke off their embrace to speak. She grabbed his hair and part of his bandage and pulled his mouth back to hers. His words squashed in her mouth, mingled with her breath.
“No, don’t,” she said around his mouth.
He pressed his lips harder, pulled her body into his more firmly. Her whole body shook. She smelled of flowers, the same perfume that was her. Her breasts pressed into him, soft, warm, and definitely feminine. Her heart pounded through her ribcage and beat against his own.
He would treasure this hint of all that may have been, for a lifetime, even if the rest of his would be short.
She broke off their kiss again. “Don’t do it.”
He shook his head. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t.” Her voice caught in her throat.
“Aye, I do.” He nodded then pressed his forehead on hers, warm and soft.
“I know this sounds stupid, but I love you.” Siobhan’s fingers brushed the whiskers of his short beard. “I want you to come back.”
“Cannae promise that.” He rubbed her nose with his. Her sapphire-blue eyes, so close, were even darker in the dimming light of day.
“You don’t always have to be the hero, Rory.” Her voice was a whisper.
Rory didn’t answer. Just drew in her scent, drank in her eyes, and let his body lean against hers.
How could he tell her he had seen this—his silver-suited trip with Angus?
And he knew he and she were meant to be together.
How would that work now?
Maybe the vision of the future was a gift to keep him going. To give him hope of love and a future. But now, it seemed impossible. There was a sub to dive deep. He didn’t know how it would work and he wouldn’t hold out false hope to Siobhan—or to himself.
The urgency of the moment returned to him.
“Got to go.” Reluctantly he released her. “You know there is a greater need than ours, Siobhan.”
Gently he pushed her away, turned and ran back to the boat.
Chapter 21
The Sub
The dark form of the North Korean submarine moored at Drumchork Pier loomed opposite them in the starlight as they stood on the private peer outside Murdo’s cottage with their equipment at their feet.
“The hatch has been open for a week. I’m not too sure if anyone is in there.” Murdo stood facing the vessel, his hands at his belt. “I can tell ye the fuel gauge shows ye have enough to take this boat about one hundred and fifty miles out if ye travel at your forty mph.” Murdo turned and stared straight at Rory, his face half illuminated by the lights of his boat.
“How do you know that?” The words came slowly out of Angus’ mouth.
“You haven’t been in it, have you?” Rory’s heart began a sudden pounding. Being in it would be the only way for this old mariner to know.
“Och, no, lad. The fuel tank’s hatch is on the ootside.”
“The gauge indicating the fuel levels is on the inside,” Angus observed.
Murdo remained silent in the half light.
“You’ve exposed yourself!” An icy sensation hit Rory’s gut. This old fisherman had effectively sacrificed himself. A hurt in his chest accompanied a sudden acknowledgement of Rory’s fondness for him.
“Aye, well, I’ve had my life and now ye have enough fuel. But dinnae tell the other fishermen I’ve raided oor secret stash, aye?” The cool night breeze stirred the old man’s hair. “Ye’d better suit up. I’ll no’ tak ye any closer without your fancy-dress.”
Rory sighed heavily as he turned to his kit and put on his radiation protective suit. Beside him, Angus did the same. They climbed onto the boat, carrying the rest of their gear.
“You’re not...?” Angus looked at Murdo who, with a brief shake of his head, stepped into his boat.
Rory picked up the headgear for his suit and looked inside it. Embedded in it were an earpiece and a small microphone. Plus, the speaker pack with aerial modification for CB radio which Geoff, the Government communications guy, had added. Angus showed Rory his was the same. Droplets of sweat dribbled down Rory’s back. Now a wash of relief flowed through him. At least communicating with Angus would not be by hand signals. They couldn’t even lipread through the respirators. Murdo started the engine and set off for the submarine’s starboard side.
“We’ve set our radios to your Hertz, Murdo.” Angus said above the engine’s chug. “We’ll be able to keep contact with you for a while yet.”
“Aye. Get your headgear on the noo.” Murdo watched as Rory secured his headgear and then tested the microphone. Rory gave a thumbs up when both Angus’ and Murdo’s voice came through clearly.
Once near the vessel, Murdo cut the engine and the small boat drifted closer. The wash from the motorboat lapped against the side of the submarine. The smaller vessel clunked as it connected with it, its lights illuminating the flat deck area of the submarine. Rory stepped out of the gently rocking boat onto the narrow deck and turned on his own torch as Angus followed him. Murdo threw the rope attached to a rubber dinghy to Rory. He caught the rope and tied it to the handrail near the hatch while Murdo let the dinghy drop into the water. Rory then grabbed the bags of equipment from Murdo and handed one to Angus.
“Farewell, boys. I’ll be on the radio for as long as you’re within range.” Murdo nodded, his eyes lingering on Rory.
Rory waved as the old man stepped to his wheel and drove his motorboat away, then turned to Angus.
“You first.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” Angus gave a mock salute and, carrying a bag of equipment, began his one-handed descent down the ladder of the hatch into the submarine. Rory followed, carrying a bag of equipment as well, and landed on the sub’s floor with a clank.
A dull red light-source illuminated the long narrow corridor. Pipes ran from one end to the other. Everything was metal. Rory turned his torch off and hung it by the clip on his belt. He had to crouch as the ceiling was low.
Submariners must be short people.
“Internal power’s still working. Murdo must have got it going somehow.” Angus switched his torch off as well, and hung it on his belt. “Which confirms to me the leak is a warhead.”
They walked along the corridor, which led to the business part of the vessel. The low ceilings and narrowness continued. Ahead, the space opened up to boards and desks covered in switches, dials, and lights. Meters, gauges, knobs, buttons, and small screens filled the room. It was neat and compact, tidily holding everyt
hing Rory could imagine was required to sail this underwater vessel. And more.
On a narrow seat at the end, which had a dashboard of sorts, sat a small man in a dark-khaki uniform wearing an ornate hat. Another sat next to him. Both faced Rory and Angus as they entered.
One held a handgun. A Daewoo K5, if Rory was not mistaken.
Rory dropped his equipment bag, raised his hands and bowed to the man he assumed was the captain of this North Korean vessel. Next to him, Angus bowed. Rory raised his head.
Both men in uniform stood and bowed. The one in the fancier uniform placed his hand on the console in front of him. His legs shook as he leaned heavily against it. Rory took a step closer. In the red illumination of the inside of the submarine, he could hardly tell the state of the man’s skin, but something told him, that in the light of day, it would be as red as the light on his bridge.
This submariner faltered. Rory closed the space between them and steadied him. The man dropped the K5, its clatter loud on the metallic floor of this compact space. He looked into Rory’s face. The man had no eyebrows or lashes, and no hair protruded from underneath his cap. He spoke in a thick voice a language which meant nothing to Rory. His companion then stood beside him, and shaking, he helped Rory with the more senior submariner. He also had red peeling skin and scant hair but appeared a little stronger than his colleague. Only just.
“We are here to help,” Rory spoke to both men. “They may know some English.” He turned his head to Angus.
Angus stood immobile, staring at the men who were victims of radiation poisoning.
“Help me get him seated again,” Rory asked.
Angus shook himself out of his stupor and assisted Rory to where they could sit the man more comfortably. His companion followed, and with slow laboured movements, sat beside him on the bench seat.
“I will try to explain,” Rory spoke to Angus across the weak and dying man.
“He won’t hear you very well, Rory. We only have internal speakers. He’ll only hear what comes muffled through the headgear.”
Rory lifted his hands toward his headgear.
“Don’t take yours off, Rory!” Angus was firm, the severest Rory had ever seen him. “Be safe. You never know. We may get out of this yet.”
“Okay.” Rory frowned his doubt.
Can you boys still hear me? Came through both their headsets at once.
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
“We’ve found the captain of the vessel. Rory spoke while smiling at the captain who had looked up as Murdo’s voice came from Rory and Angus’ helmets. “He looks near to death. He’s got a first mate, if that’s what you call them.”
Och weel. That’s ideal. He’ll know. Ask him.
“Great idea! But I don’t speak Korean.” Rory tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Well, ye have a Chinese friend, do ye no’.
“Aye, but he does nae speak Korean. He told me so.”
Maybe your Korean speaks Chinese.
Angus’ eyes opened wide, mirroring his own.
“Get Xian, please!” Rory asked.
“While Murdo’s getting Xian, I’ll get the timer out.” Angus walked back to the bags and pulled out the gadgets. “They may recognise the equipment and gather what we want to do from it.”
Rory helped Angus place them in front of the captain and first mate and pointed. The captain lifted his head and looked at the equipment, the strain of these slight movements evident on his face. Angus made a supplicating gesture with his hands while the first mate watched everything he did.
“What’re you doing?” Rory observed Angus as he listened to the conversations coming from his earpiece. Murdo had reached their camp and was shouting for Xian.
“They may get what I mean and direct me to the missile bays.”
“He’s pretty weak.” Rory pointed to the captain. “Hope he lasts long enough to help us. His first mate seems a little stronger.”
Xian here, Rory. You know I don’t speak Korean.
“Aye, but he may well know Chinese. But you’ll have to shout so he can hear.” Rory stooped over the captain and Xian began to speak.
The submariner’s eyes lit up and he answered Xian. A breathless conversation on the Korean’s side continued for about five minutes. Rory placed his head almost to the mouth of the Korean as he spoke. The Korean and Xian each missed only a few words of the conversation.
Then Xian and the Korean stopped talking.
“Well?” Rory asked.
His Mandarin is way better than my Korean, man.
“What’d he say?”
He said he and his companion are the last survivors of this sub’s crew. His friend is a helmsman. Which means he can drive the thing. He is a ‘Torpedo-man’s mate’, the equivalent of a nuclear-gunner, on this vessel. He knows exactly what to do to sort the nuke. He recognised what Angus showed him and he said they’ll help him do it for as long as they have the breath.
Chapter 22
They switched the radio to Angus’ headgear and he, the gunner, and Xian had a three-way conversation as Angus assisted the ailing man along the narrow corridor to the missile bay, under the Korean’s direction. Rory followed with the bags of gear.
“Shut the hatch.” Angus’ voice crackled through Rory’s headgear.
Rory placed the bags on the floor of the missile bay, turned and then ran up the ladder and grabbed the hatch handle. He glanced across the loch in the camp’s direction. Silhouettes of his people, small in the distance, lined up in front of their campfire. They faced the submarine. Siobhan’s figure caught his eye. He waved, and she waved back. It would be the last time he saw her. He slid down the ladder and passed the other submariner, the helmsman, who now sat behind a small wheel-like steering contraption next to what seemed to be a gearstick. The boat’s steering mechanism—one for side-to-side and one for up-and-down. They looked familiar from the glance he’d managed of the how-to-drive-a-sub manual Murray had printed out when they were in Oxford.
Angus strode toward him as he made his way back to where the knobs and dials were. “The hatch is closed?”
Rory gave a thumbs up.
“You sure?”
“As sure as I can be, not being a trained submariner.”
“Good. Now I need to set the co-ordinates to get us through the narrow opening and start our journey out of this loch. We need Xian again.” Angus spoke louder into his headgear once more. “Xian, please ask the helmsman to get us out of the loch and into the ocean.”
Angus traipsed to the submariner and the conversation in Mandarin resumed. This time the helmsman relayed the co-ordinates to Xian who gave them in English to Angus.
“Okay, I know that from the manual,” Angus said after Xian’s latest message. “One of us has to be in the engine room to man the engines and be the accelerator to get this boat moving.”
“I’ll go.” Rory volunteered.
“No, I’ll go. I want you to navigate. Once I’ve accelerated, we should be okay, and I can go back to working on the detonators.” Angus viewed the array of knobs and numbers at the navigation panel. “I can’t read the symbols. They’ve stuck Korean over the Russian knobs. I need the helmsman to put in the numbers. Come here, Rory.” Angus indicated to the helmsman. “Help me get him to this board where he can punch them in.”
Rory helped the man from his narrow seat and walked the short paces with him while Angus got Xian to ask him to set the co-ordinates. The helmsman pushed a couple of buttons then Rory supported him back to his post where he resumed guiding the vessel out.
“Come over here, Rory. You’ve got a job to do,” Angus said.
Rory moved closer to Angus who pointed to a board. The lit screen was green and had a lighter green line which moved around in a circle, like a clock with a crazy hand spinning constantly. There was a large section of lighter green to their right. The screen emitted a pip sound.
“The radar’s still working. If we get near any big blobs, a
lert him.” Angus pointed to the helmsman. “Or call me, okay?”
“What about that?” Rory put his finger on a blob on the right of the screen.
“It’s the pier we just left.” Angus turned and ran back to where the other North Korean sat. Angus and Xian’s conversation filtered through Rory’s headphones and he could faintly hear the submariner’s voice travelling along the narrow corridor which led from the bay. Then the sound of Angus’ footsteps came toward him.
“I’m going to the engine room to accelerate and get this vessel moving a wee bit faster.” Angus stepped down a steep ladder to a lower section of the submarine.
Moments later everything began to vibrate, and Rory became aware of a sensation of forward motion.
“So, there’s only two missiles.” Angus’ voice came through Rory’s headphones. “I don’t think I want to know where they sent the others. Surely, we would have heard if there were any nuclear strikes nearby us. Scotland and the UK, that is. The Geiger counter tells me only one is crackling to the max. The other is probably from the radiation surrounding it. Rory! Can you hear me?”
“Aye,” Rory shouted into his mic, trying to not take his eye off the screen for long.
“So, I only have to convert one.”
“Oh, good. What does that mean?”
“I have to change one from impact detonation to timer detonation. I’ll wake the other one up and it will go off with this one.” Angus’ words whooshed through Rory’s headphones like the sound of a wind over Bhienn Fionn. “I’ll set it for eight hours. That’ll get us out of The Minch and well into the North Atlantic before she blows.”
“Speaking of The Minch and geographical things such as that, there is a big blob on either side of us coming up. I think we need our submariner; he can navigate. He can do that, can’t he? Och, I’m sure it needs two of them to drive this thing, unless my friend the helmsman can give me a crash course.”
“Help me bring him back then.”
Angus came up from the engine room then ran with Rory to the Korean in the torpedo bay. Two tubes from the wall were open and a definite missile-looking object was half out of the top one.