Iris Johansen - Silent Thunder

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.

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.

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."