Steve Abbott - Devil's Gambit

“Yes, sir.” The two men left Henniker to stare back into the depths of his cup.

Were the warheads on the bottom of the ocean? Henniker wondered. Or had they most likely been transferred successfully to the submarine? Still, if the vessel had been destroyed, was it to deny witnesses or evidence? Was the submarine hit by Bravo one’s torpedo? Sound travels three times faster in water than in air. If the conditions were right, the noise of the sub’s destruction could have traveled as far as any of their present position. There could be something on the passive sonar tapes in the CIC. He went to the bulkhead phone and punched up the Command Information Center.

“CIC, Officer of the Watch, Garret.”

“Henniker. Garret I want you to get sonar to go over our tapes from just after Bravo one requested weapons free. They are to check for an explosion and hull-breaking sounds. It should register at extreme long range.”

Garret sounded uncertain, “Are you sure, sir?”

“Dammit man, are you deaf? Find that explosion and when you do, call me right away.” The phone went off with a click.

Garret looked at it in amazement. The old man must be going off his nut. He looked over at the two sonar operators on watch. “Well gents, orders from on high. Pull the sonar tapes from Bravo one’s request for weapons free. You get to go over them, looking for a dying sub that is, and I quote, ’at extreme long range.’”

The two operators looked at each other and groaned.

“I see. No, we’ll decide a course of action from here. Tell Bloodhound they did their best. Addison out.” Sean pulled the communications headset off and finished his notes. Gayle was in her chair near the front bulkhead of the Gulfstream. Sean held the bad news in his eyes and face. “Bloodhound’s helo found the freighter.”

“And?”

“Looks like the North Koreans torpedoed it just as their bird got on the scene. The navigator reported a probable radar fix on a conning tower in the water beside the ship. Said it looked like an Alpha’s sail.” Sean rubbed at the grit of fatigue around his eyes. “If that’s the case, things are really serious. Alphas are a fast boat. At least that’s what I read about them. They helo crew dropped a torpedo, but couldn’t guarantee a hit. They were low on fuel and in degrading weather. Whoever survived the sinking didn’t survive the sea. It looks like the warheads are on a sub heading back to the homeland.”

Gayle let out a long breath. “Damn, and your Navy is sure about there being a sub?”

“As sure as they can be. Things could have been better. The Koreans had the weather on their side. Rain and wind can play hell with those search sets. It makes the waves high and random.”

She looked up at Sean. “Is it always this hard?”

He sat down in the chair across from her and shrugged. “The only time it’s harder is when the bastards manage to get a shot off and do some real damage.”

“Has that ever happened to you?”

“Not yet. Bill and I’ve been lucky so far. Though it’s come right down to the wire a few times.”

Gayle stretched in her chair and looked at the graying skies outside the window. “And how do you see this mission?”

Sean looked around the cabin at the other men. Some were sleeping. Harris and Alexandrov were playing cards in the far corner of the passenger deck. “This one’s going to be a photo finish. I know this thing goes a hundred times faster than a submarine, but it’s a big deep ocean out there. This guy was cool enough to evade a torpedo at close range. He’s a player, not an amateur. More than likely, he’s going to make it to some port and that’s where we’re going to have to go to get this under control.”

Gayle shook her head. “And you think all of us could pull that off?”

“No, but with a team of your Navy SEALS helping us, perhaps we could.”

“Perhaps? I suppose you have somebody in mind.”

“Actually, I had a whole team in mind. SEAL team three. Did some training with them in Burma last year. They’re a good lot and they know their shit.” Sean smiled. “Of course, I’d prefer if it was a bunch of the lads from my group, but how would that look to the press of the world? Contact your Special Operations Command and tell them what they want to hear. Let some general decide for you. If it all goes to shit, it’ll be our asses anyway. You have nothing to lose and some very serious firepower and skills to gain.”

Gayle’s brow furrowed in frustration. “It’s like we’re always one step behind.”

“Get used to it. These things are never easy. Something always goes wrong, no matter how well you plan. It’s always the little details. It’s like Father Henry used to say to me, ‘God is in the details.’” Sean’s pale eyes locked on to hers for a split second. “Do you believe in God?”

The question was so out of place with the conversation, it took Gayle a moment to refocus. “I don’t know. I suppose. It’s not a subject I’ve given much thought to. What about you? I mean, it’s an odd question.”

Sean smiled. “No it isn’t. Millions of people ask it each day.” He put his feet up on the table between them. “See, I never gave God much thought either.” A wry smile crossed his face. “Too young and stupid; full of piss and vinegar. Then I got into the Brigade. After a while, I started to see a bigger picture. It came through in dribs and drabs after many ops in Afghanistan. The regiment is a small group. Everybody knows everybody else. We know each other’s families, their kids and we all look out for each other.”

“And when did you figure you believed in God?”

Sean’s eyes went dark. “The first time I killed a man up close.”

Condensation dripped from an overhead coolant line. It created a growing puddle beside the metal toilet, which was stuffed into the cramped cubicle. Seaman Chin Jea Rhee leaned over the head’s smooth silver edge and threw up. He was far too occupied with controlling his stomach’s rebellion to notice the dampness that spread across his knees.

It must have been something he ate, or maybe he picked up some kind of virus before they left port that was only now making itself felt. Another bout of heaves surged over him. His gums ached. Chin rested his forehead against the cool metal rim of the bowl. One of the freighter crew, that was it. He must have picked up the bug from one of them when they pulled those crates on board. How, was anyone’s guess. There had been no physical contact, just the transfer ropes thrown back and forth during the move of the crates.

Every rest period, Rhee had been staring at the mysterious crates from his cot in the forward torpedo bay. What was inside them that was important enough to send the Great Leader and his crew halfway around the world to get them? It had been the quiet topic of discussion in the forward torpedo bay since the crates had come on board. The loading, followed by a live torpedo launch, had left little doubt in the minds of the crew as to just how important these three simple crates were to the homeland.

The exposed symbol on the side of one of the crates puzzled Rhee. The six triangles arranged in a circle, alternating yellow and black. An interesting pattern, it was not as comforting as the symbol of the Yin and Yang that adorned the wall of his grandfather’s house, but still it spoke of other universal properties. Another wave of nausea washed over him.

“Are you sure? Absolutely positive?” The Captain scrutinized the political officer and the boat’s doctor.