End Game. Dale Brown
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not everything works in the real world the way it’s drawn up on the engineering charts, Captain.
Still, he was convinced his people were right.
So what did that mean?
That either he was looking at four submarines – four very quiet submarines – that no one else in the world had heard before, or that he was being suckered by some sort of camouflaging device.
Like an underwater robot trailing behind the submarine, throwing up a smoke screen.
The problem with that was that decoys normally made a lot more noise. These contacts were almost silent.
‘We have mechanical noises in the water,’ said Eyes. ‘We’re having some trouble picking up the sounds, though, because of that tanker.’
‘Explosion?’
‘Negative.’
‘Torpedoes?’
‘Negative. He may have some sort of problem. He may be using the tanker to turn around and check behind him, just as we theorized, Storm. He’s done everything we thought he would, just slower.’
‘We didn’t think he’d split himself into four equal parts.’
‘You really think we’re chasing four submarines?’
Storm folded his arms in front of his chest. The truth was, they’d had all sorts of glitches with their equipment from the moment they’d left port. It was to be expected – the gear was brand new and the bugs had to be worked out.
‘Airforce find anything on that tanker?’ asked Storm.
‘Negative. Tanker checks out. They do a run down to South Africa from Iran. Goes back and forth every couple of weeks.’
‘Let’s give the submariner a few more minutes to make a mistake,’ said Storm. ‘Then we’ll turn on the active sonar. At least we’ll find out how many of him we’re chasing.’
‘Aye aye, Captain.’
Off the coast of Somalia 0208
Captain Sattari was the next to last man out of the small submarine. The small interior smelled so horribly he nearly retched as he grabbed hold of the rope guideline and jumped onto the narrow metal gangway at the side of the hull.
‘Captain Sattari! Ship’s commander needs to see you right away,’ said the sailor leaning toward him at the end of the decking. ‘He’s on the bridge, sir. He asks you to hurry.’
Sattari glanced back as he entered the doorway at the side. Two other submarines had arrived; one was starting to unload and the other was just being secured.
The sailor ran ahead. Sattari did his best to keep up. Not familiar with the ship, he knocked his shin as he went through one of the compartments to the ladder that led to the bridge.
‘We have an American warship behind us,’ said the ship’s captain when he reached the deck. ‘He’s sent a helicopter to circle us. He may be tracking the submarines with passive sonar.’
‘Do we have all the subs?’
‘The fourth still has not come inside. I believe he is within a half kilometer at this point, or perhaps closer. I thought it best not to use the sonar.’
‘You’re sure these are Americans?’
‘Quite sure. The ship identified itself as the Abner Read. Devil’s Tail.’
The American littoral destroyer had made quite a name for itself in the Gulf of Aden in the few months it had been there. But it rarely ventured to the eastern end of the gulf, and Sattari had not seen it during his earlier scouting missions.
Beside the point now. It was here.
Discovery by the Americans would be catastrophic. Even if the Americans left them alone for the moment – and really, why would they help the Indians? – they would be on the lookout for his midget submarines in the future. It was one thing to evade the Indians and even the Chinese; quite another to have to deal with an American dragnet.
Not that he did not relish the day he would face them in combat. He welcomed the chance to avenge the defeat they had dealt his father.
‘Can you launch the decoy once Boat Four is aboard?’ Sattari asked.
‘With them this close, I would think it highly likely they would realize where it came from.’
‘Turn on the sonar as the submarine comes into the ship,’ said Sattari.
‘The sonar?’
‘For a brief moment. Then drop the decoy. Continue on as if nothing has happened.’
‘As you wish, Captain.’
Aboard the Abner Read, off the coast of Somalia 0215
‘Shark Gill sonar! Dead ahead – he must be right under that oil tanker!’ Eyes’s voice was so loud Storm thought he would’ve heard him without the com set.
‘Excellent,’ said Storm, though in truth he felt disappointed. Shark Gill was the NATO code word for the sonar used in Russian Kilo-class submarines. Most likely he had been trailing a Russian boat that had managed to evade the fleet – not the commandos, since Russia and India were allies.
‘See if the captain of the tanker would honor a request to move off to the west,’ said Storm. ‘Tell him that our helicopter has been tracking some mines in the area – get him scared and get him out of there.’
‘The sub may follow.’
‘I doubt he’ll make it that easy for us, now that he knows we’re here,’ said Storm. ‘Turn on our active sonar as well – let’s make sure he knows precisely how close to him we are.’
Off the coast of Somalia 0216
Sergeant Ibn came up to the bridge to report to Sattari while the tanker captain was talking to the Americans.
‘All our men are back. No losses. Mission accomplished,’ said the sergeant, his face as grim as ever.
‘The success of the mission is entirely yours,’ Sattari told him. ‘You trained everyone superbly – I for one benefited greatly from your drills.’
The sergeant turned beet red, then bent his head.
Had Sattari mistaken shyness for skepticism? No, he thought; Ibn – and most likely the others – were wary of an unproven commander whose experience was entirely in the cockpit. They must have felt, and with some justification, that he had only gotten his position because of his father, who still had some influence with the government. Or else they thought the entire scheme of equipping a special operations group with gear and machines any civilian – any rich civilian – could buy was preposterous.
They would not think so now.
Ibn remained at attention.
‘Relax, Sergeant,’ Sattari told him. ‘See to the men.’
‘Thank you, Captain.’
Was there more respect in his voice? Less doubt?
Perhaps. But more important, Sattari felt sure of himself. He had done it; he had succeeded. Tonight was only the start.
‘The Americans want us to go west,’ the tanker captain told him. ‘They say they have spotted some mines.’
Had he not been so tired, Sattari would have burst out laughing.
‘Comply. Make as much noise as you can.’