Steve Abbott: Devil's Gambit

Hunter surveyed the situation from behind his barricade of oil drums. The Korean submarine was now four hundred feet from the dock. They would be in the center channel in a matter of minutes. He couldn’t risk having them nosing about out there. He could see the two Hinds working over the missile and radar battery near the north side of the harbor, their insect-like shapes churned through the smoke and carnage they had created. He punched the secure code for Alpha one on his SATCOM.

“Alpha one, Strike element. The submarine is making a break for it. Nail them.”

“Roger Alpha. Consider them gone.” The Hinds broke off the attack and swung toward the submarine.

The water around the bow and stern of the boat began to foam. The Leader was diving. Water was already at the bottom of the short sail. Hunter had to give this guy credit; he knew his job. “Alpha one, he’s going under, fast.”

A terse, “I can see that” snapped out at Hunter from his com unit. White streaks of fire knifed overhead. The water where the Leader’s sail had been erupted in violence.

Hunted looked out at the spot. “Shit.” He switched com channels. “Ecevit, what the hell is going on over there?”

The response was so quiet he had to strain to hear. “We’re diffusing the warhead packages. I’m up to my arms in the guts of this thing. Can’t really talk right now.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?”

“It’s the best I can give you.”

“Where are you?”

“Between the warehouse where we started out and the buildings by the dock.”

Hunter glanced down at his watch. It was half an hour past dawn. His men were getting low on ammo and he doubted the Hinds could keep up the pounding they were giving the Korean ground troops. “Captain, you have exactly ten minutes. If you can’t do those things by then, go with the alternate plan and blow them in place. Do you understand?” His comlink stayed silent. “Captain. Do you understand?”

“Copy that. Ten minutes.”

The Leader’s Captain looked at his sweating First Officer. The man’s face was a blank, his ever present clipboard missing from his hand. “Notify Naval Command of the situation here.” The First Officer made no move. “Now!”

The man’s head snapped back from the force of the shout. “At once, Comrade Captain!”

“Helm, ahead full. My feeling is we should put distance between ourselves and this place.”

“Ahead full.”

The Captain looked down at the sea chart for the region. “When you are clear of the harbor move to flank.” He turned, looking for his Chief of the boat. The man at his station was a young petty officer. “Where is the Chief?”

The man’s eyes dropped to the deck. “He was killed cutting the mooring lines.”

“I see.” The Captain’s voice dropped. “He was a good man. Tell the Chief Engineer I want the diesels on-line and damn the fuel situation.”

The young officer turned and disappeared down the main companionway towards engineering.

The Captain returned to his station beside navigation. They had used up a lot of luck trying to complete this fool’s errand of a mission. He hoped there was enough left in the bottom of the barrel to scrape up and get out of this alive. He did not know how powerful the warheads he had delivered were, but he had seen enough footage of the damage sustained by mainland Japan to know he did not want to find out firsthand. It was time to throw caution out the window.

“Sonar! Active ping on the bow array.” The gong-like bong sounded through the hull. Every sub within a hundred miles now knew where they were. “Any returns directly in front of us?”

“Negative Captain. Just the floor of the harbor.”

The steady thrum of the diesels vibrated through the soles of his boots. “Helm! Flank speed, now. Get us out of here.” Behind him, the Leader’s screw bit into the ocean with purpose.

Gayle looked down into the opened guts of the warhead. Sweat rolled down her body in rivers, and her bowels felt weak. She kept her voice as calm as the situation allowed.

“Yevgeny, how are you doing?”

“This thing is a mess,” the Russian grunted. “They really must have smashed it up against something. I doubt it would have fired.”

“Hunter says we have ten minutes, or we have to go with the alternate plan.”

Yevgeny shook his head. “There is no chance.”

“And you, Valotsin?”

The young lieutenant shook his head.

“Harris,” Gayle called round the front of the truck.

Harris appeared. “I heard Hunter. Are you going to do it?”

Gayle nodded. “The clock has run out. We don’t have time to do it right.”

Harris looked dubious. “How long will we have?”

The staccato tap of distant machine gun fire filtered to them through the maze of buildings.

“Twenty minutes?” She looked over at Yevgeny.

He nodded. “Da, it should be long enough for us to get clear.”

Harris shrugged. “What the hell. The sooner we get out of this, the better.”

All three of the NEST team members pulled out the small gold key that hung round their necks. Gayle shook her head. “Leave yours alone Yevgeny. It’s too damaged. We can’t risk trying to trigger it.”

The Colonel looked relieved as he slid the key back under his shirt. “As you wish, Captain.”

The two remaining keys were inserted into the base of the undamaged warheads. Gayle watched the Cyrillic characters glow to life on the small keypad located beside the guidance buss connector. She punched in the skeleton key logic code. The panel flashed three times and then “Ready,” in Cyrillic, appeared. Gayle punched in the code that released the Permissive Action Lock. After the PAL was digested, the small readout went blank again. She could enter in any series of commands now. New coordinates or specific instructions. She punched in the yield selection code.

“Select your yield at point one KT, Valotsin.”

“Point one KT selected.”

“Enter the Terminal Action Code. Set a detonation countdown of twenty minutes.”

Valotsin punched in the time. “Twenty minutes entered.”

“On my mark. Three, two, one, mark!” They turned their keys together. Each panel flashed twice and then showed a countdown timer. Gayle pulled her key from the now-dead socket and rocked back on her heels. “It’s done.” She wanted to be anywhere but here. The thought sucked all the air out of her lungs. Harris reached up and put his hand on her shoulder to steady her.

“Easy Gayle, we’ll be out of here soon enough.” She managed to find her voice. “Is it that obvious?”

Harris smiled. “We all go through it our first time.” He gave her a gentle shake. “Come on, time to PUFO. As much as I like a good explosion, I have no wish to see your work in progress.”

“PUFO?”

Harris grinned. “Pack Up and Fuck Off.”

Sean’s voice came from the front of the truck. “Bill, I’ve got movement to our front. We should be leaving soon!”

Bill ducked round to the front of the truck. Sean was hunkered down by the passenger side tire. His M-4 tracked back and forth across the alley’s width.

“They’re running hot Sean. It’s time to go.”

Sean unfolded from his crouch and keyed his throat mike. “Hunter, you got any men to the front of us?”

“Negative. We’ve regrouped, we’re heading for the extraction point. What’s your status?”