Dominic Conlon - Silent Warpath

‘Just before Cetus launched there was a hitch.’

‘What sort of hitch?’ Stan sounded intrigued.

‘Well, one of the packages took a long time to upload. I’ve been going through all of them and one of them was much bigger than it should have been.’

‘How could that happen?’

Natasha collected her thoughts. ‘Stan, I think I’ve discovered a virus.’

Twenty metres below the surface of the southern Atlantic, Cetus’s computers ran a full system check. Starting with the nuclear plant, moving on to the engines and then the condition of the hull, sensors in each section reported a healthy status. Next it inspected the sonic cannon running along the keel of the boat. Whenever the cannon was fired nearly all of the energy went into the sound waves it produced. An unfortunate side effect was that a small amount of the energy caused the cannon to heat up. Although it had been fired just three times it was necessary to pump cooling sea water into the heat exchangers.

Lastly the computers turned their attention to themselves, churning through long checklists to ensure they all were operating optimally. The whole process took less than 5 seconds.

Cetus began to move slowly, unreeling a long towed sonar array aft. The array contained two hundred and fifty six sensitive microphones that picked up the sounds of the ocean. Cetus could ‘hear’ the Tribune as she made her way to the bottom. The sound of internal bulkheads collapsing, boilers exploding, even pockets of air that found their way out of the stricken vessel could be detected. Cetus followed her progress through crush depth where the pressure from the ocean depths squeezed the hull, forcing out any remaining air.

Now that the first part of its mission was complete and all three ships in the flotilla had sunk, Cetus turned its attention to the wider submarine environment. There were the usual noises from marine life but Cetus could also detect the tiny splashes made from the oars of the lifeboats as crews struggled on the surface. Now that there was no immediate threat, Cetus loaded the next part of its mission plan and set a northerly course.

Two hours after taking to the lifeboat Louis shivered with the cold and wet. Where was the Tribune and the Arabesque? The crew blew their whistles and waved flashlights but there was no sign of rescue.

The waves had been growing in strength and height for over an hour now and Long John and several others started to bail water from the scuppers. One of the sailors tied a flashlight to the spare oar and lashed it upright to the gunwale. Two other lifeboats had done the same and they could see each other’s lights bobbing up and down in the darkness.

Slowly the three lifeboats crept closer and at last Long John was able to throw the nearest a line. The remaining lifeboat eventually did the same so all three were roped together. About an hour afterwards a fourth lifeboat appeared and soon it too had a line securing it to the rest. As there was little hope of an immediate rescue they decided to turn off the flashlights for now to save batteries.

Then the nightmare really started. The wind began to blow in strong gusts bringing frequent bursts of rain. It was pitch black. The wind strengthened again, mixing rain and sea spray and driving it horizontally across them. The combined wind and current pushed them further from the mainland. Louis relieved one of the sailors and began to row. He shivered constantly but despite the cold he settled down to the steady rhythm.

He heard thunder and ten seconds later jagged lightening flashed on the horizon. During the brief time it lit up the boat Louis caught a glimpse of his missing gold watch, the gold expansion band glimmering for a split second in the light. He feathered his oar and looked hard at the man wearing it. It was impossible to make out who it was in the dark.

A hundred thoughts crowded through Louis’ head. Surely it couldn’t be the treasured watch he had lost when he first came on board the Mosquito? He stood up suddenly, intending to make his way towards the man. He staggered, almost fell and was grabbed by several sailors who pushed him back into his seat.

Louis shook his head, disbelievingly. But the image of the gold band burned in his brain. He had to make sure. He stood up again and weaved his way unsteadily down the boat. The man saw him coming and hunched against the gunwale. But Louis would not be stopped when he was so close. He grabbed the man’s sleeve and jerked it up, uncovering the man’s wrist. There was no doubt now — that was his watch. He clutched the strap and started to pull it off the man’s hand but a large wave rocked the boat, throwing Louis against the side. The man heaved and Louis was in the water.

The shock of the cold water caused Louis to inhale and he gagged, ingesting a mouthful of seawater. He was under the waves and didn’t know which way was up. He lashed out with his fists in a blind panic as the terror of imminent death took hold.

At the end of his strength a calm descended over his mind and he stopped thrashing. He felt himself ascending and as soon as his head cleared the surface he coughed violently and gulped a huge lungful of air. He coughed again, sucked in more air, grateful he still wore the life jacket he was given on board the Mosquito. Still coughing, he looked around.

There were no lights anywhere.

‘Over here!’ he yelled.

He was barely a minute in the water and his voice held a note of fear. He felt his heart hammering away and he knew with certainty that if he was not found soon he would die.

For a second he stopped shouting and tried to relax. He felt something hard in the palm of his hand. With his other hand he explored the band that circled his fist. In a brief flash of lightning he saw gold. Turning it over he realised he was still clutching the watch that had been stolen from him.

The discovery gave him new strength and he slipped the watch over his wrist. He explored his life jacket with stiff cold hands. His fingers slithered over a hard plastic dome which turned out to be an emergency beacon. When he gave it a twist it began to flash. Next he found a whistle dangling by a short chord. The first few tries were dismal, but after shaking out the water it gave a piercing sound.

Louis began to feel hope.

‘Is the sub still at large?’ Clarke never wasted any time.

Schaeffer sat in the nearest chair as ordered. ‘Sir, that part of the operation was successful — the sub is still at large and it is completely under our control.’

‘Good — but what do you mean by “that part of the operation”?’

Schaeffer shifted in his seat. ‘You remember we had to send someone in to finish off Campbell?’

‘I remember — you thought he was dead.’

‘Our man Mike did kill him. But I didn’t get a chance to explain on the phone that he was interrupted.’

‘Oh?’

‘He was jumped as he was smothering Campbell. There was a guy waiting in the bathroom. Mike managed to get free from him and escape without being seen.’

‘But Campbell is dead?’

‘Yes, definitely. There’s to be a funeral for him on Thursday.’

‘Any clues as to who the guy was?’

‘No sir. That’s the most puzzling thing. He fought hard. If he was from the local police or FBI he would have stopped Mike with a firearm.’

Clarke leaned over and selected a cigar from a humidifier on the desk.

‘See what you can find out about him. Anything else I should know?’

‘We intercepted a call from one of the women techies…’

‘And?’

‘And now she suspects a virus.’

Clarke studied his cigar and lit it. ‘How come they got onto that so fast?’