Cliff Ryder - The Ties That Bind

The stunned sailor didn't have time to speak before Jason snapped his neck. He lowered the body smoothly to the floor and pulled him out of view, deep into the torpedo room. Another quick glance down the hallway showed it empty, so Jason took a few moments to remove the Russian sailor's uniform and put it on over his own clothing. The fit was tight and the pants too short, but if someone didn't look too carefully, he might slip by them unnoticed.

After hiding the body behind a rack of torpedoes, Jason looked into the hallway again, and found it still empty. The engine room would be on the far end of the submarine, but most likely on the same level, or perhaps the one above it. He moved confidently down the hallway, trying to look as though he belonged there and knew where he was going.

He'd made it about a third of the way when two sailors came out of a side compartment and almost collided with him in the narrow space. Jason kept his head down and muttered, "Excuse me" in Russian.

One of the sailors said, "Dimitri? What's wrong?"

Without turning around, he said, "Da? "

He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew it was too late. He reached up and across his body with his right hand, grasping the one on his shoulder and twisting it, hard. Jason heard bones snap in the sailor's wrist, accompanied by a yell of pain.

So much for quiet, Jason thought, while lashing out at the other sailor and taking him in the knee. The bones made a satisfying crunch and that one went down, grabbing at his leg and calling for security.

Jason removed the Glock from its holster and fired twice. He silenced both men instantly.

Above him, on the next level, he could hear voices shouting queries. He only had a couple of moments at most. He dragged both men into the compartment they'd come from and shut the door. There were splatters of blood along the floor and the bottom of the walkway walls, but there was little he could do about that. Perhaps the dim light would help.

A set of booted feet appeared on the ladder leading to the next level up, and an idea struck him. More confusion might equal more time. Positioning himself in the hall, he lay down on the floor at a seemingly awkward angle and watched through slitted eyelids as the security man approached.

This one was more cautious, moving slowly and looking at each compartment. Jason let out an internal sigh of relief — only one man had come to investigate. Once more, patience was all he needed.

The man knelt down to examine his prone body, when Jason suddenly sprang to life. One hand reached out and covered the security officer's mouth.

The second brought up the silenced Glock and put a round through his throat. The man fell over, dying from lack of oxygen and unable to make a sound. Jason got to his feet and dragged the man into the same compartment where he'd put the others, then continued on his way.

He knew more would follow when the first man didn't return with a report. In a few minutes, the deck would be swarming with sailors trying to figure out what was going on. Moving on quick, silent feet, Jason made his way to the engine-room compartment and peered inside.

Three more sailors were on duty there, watching gauges and manning the computers that controlled the engine and propulsion systems.

Things are about to get interesting, he thought.

At that moment, an alarm began ringing throughout the sub and a voice over the internal address system said, "Red alert! Red alert! There is an intruder on board. All hands to stations! All hands to stations! Security to check all decks!"

So much for the element of surprise, Jason thought. He stepped into the engine control room.

Still reacting to the sudden alarm, the sailors didn't even see him at first, and two were down before the third realized that his companions were dead. He jumped for a switch on one console — obviously an alarm of some kind — and Jason almost didn't reach him in time.

He grabbed the sailor, yanking him backward and onto the hard metal of the deck. "Don't," he said, pointing the Glock. The young sailor held up his hands in surrender.

Jason gestured with the gun. "Shut the compartment door and lock it," he ordered.

Nodding, the sailor climbed to his feet and shut the compartment hatch, then turned the wheel that slid the lock bolts into place. He stepped away from the door, once again lifting his hands.

"Sit down," Jason told him, motioning to a chair. The young man took a seat and Jason quickly bound his hands with a plastic cord he carried in his pack. "Now, you can sit quietly and live," he told him, "or you can die. Your choice."

"I will be as silent as a mouse," the kid said.

"Good choice," he replied. He took his pack off and began removing the C-4 charges. The engine room was usually a loud place, but since the sub was currently at stop and the engines were shut down, it was fairly quiet.

He began placing charges in key system locations — propulsion, oxygen exchanger, combustion and fuel, as well as near the hull itself. The series of concussions from the explosions might be enough to blow a hole in the side of the sub itself, but either way, once the explosions hit, the sub would remain on the bottom of the ocean.

And the Russians couldn't risk the kind of retrieval mission it would take to get it back.

His handheld beeped softly and he pulled it from his cargo pocket. The screen read, "Search complete. Download?"

He quickly typed in the commands to have the sub's plans downloaded to his handheld and the laptop itself.

"You will…blow up our submarine?" the Russian asked.

"I thought I told you to sit quietly," Jason said.

"I do not want to die," the kid said. "Please."

"There are escape pods built into this vessel," Jason said. "Maybe not enough for everyone, but you might get lucky."

The kid nodded in sour understanding.

As Jason finished wiring the detonators, someone tried to open the compartment door and quickly discovered that it was locked from the inside. "Damn," he said. "I really don't want to go down with the ship myself."

Someone began hammering on the door and Jason risked a glance through the small porthole. Three security officers were standing outside, demanding that the engine crew open up. Thinking quickly, Jason moved to where he had the sailor tied up and drew a blade from a sheath on his ankle.

The Russian's eyes widened in fear. "I'm not going to kill you…yet," Jason said.

He sliced through the plastic cuffs and said, "You're going to answer the door and let them in," he said. "You'll act like nothing is wrong. Don't interfere when they come in, and you may live through this yet." He offered his best cold stare and added, "Understand?"

"Yes," the sailor said. "I understand."

Jason pulled out the Glock again and noted the wear and tear on the silencer. He'd need to replace it after this encounter. He stepped behind the door and motioned for the sailor to open the hatch.

The sailor spun the wheel and stepped out of the way as the three security men burst into the room, all of them talking at once, too busy jabbering about an intruder to notice the two bodies already lying on the deck. Jason fired his first two rounds in milliseconds, needing little time to aim at this distance. The third security man dived for cover, and that was when the young sailor tried to be a make a run for it.

Kicking out with one foot, Jason slammed the hatch shut, which the kid ran into full tilt. There was a dull sound as his head connected with the metal of the hatch and he dropped as if he'd been poleaxed. The momentary distraction, however, was enough for the security man to take a shot, and Jason felt the burning sting of a graze in his left shoulder. The force of it was enough to spin him sideways.