Blind Eye; Silent Waters; Janus Effect

by Jan Coffey

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the media.”

  She hadn’t considered that. The media was already all over this. Her thoughts shifted to Darius’s parents. They’d be in the Keys this time of the year.

  “How about Commander McCann’s family? Has anyone been in touch with them?”

  He nodded curtly and looked away. He was avoiding eye contact.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He paused before looking back at her. “I don’t know the details. But I received a text message about an ambulance being dispatched to the house.”

  “Harry?”

  “No. Mrs. McCann, Darius’s mother.”

  ~~~~

  Chapter 21

  White House Oval Office

  9:00 a.m.

  The hour-long meeting in the Situation Room with the Secretary of State, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of Homeland Security and a number of chief advisors had given President Hawkins all the information he needed. Now he knew exactly what he had to say.

  The earlier news conference held at the Sub Base in Groton had only whetted the media’s—and the nation’s—appetite. In a prepared statement, the navy spokesperson had told the country only that a submarine had left the Electric Boat Shipyard ahead of schedule. The damage to the Coast Guard cutter and the New London Ledge lighthouse were under investigation. In the statement, no fatalities had been reported and no mention was made of any threat. There was also no mention of a hijacking.

  Minutes after, however, the terror alert was raised to the highest level, and the public was repeatedly given the statement that the president would be speaking to them shortly. In the meantime, everyone should be observant but should go about their business as they normally would.

  Now it was up to Will Hawkins to show them that calm heads were in control of the country. This was not going to be an ordinary briefing. The White House leaked word that the speech writers were taking a back seat on this one. The President would address the nation and tell them the truth—to the extent that he could without creating mass hysteria.

  An impossible task, the president thought as he half listened to his aides remind him of last minute details. The director of the camera crew started his countdown. Fifteen seconds to air.

  Hawkins downed half the cup of scalding coffee and handed it to an assistant to be taken away. He looked down at the notes he’d rewritten on a piece of paper. He glanced up at the door, behind the camera crew. His campaign manager, Bob Fortier, had just slipped into the room. He received a reassuring nod from him.

  The director pointed at the president, gesturing to him that they were live in three seconds. Two. One.

  “Good morning, my fellow Americans. Once again, our way of life is today being threatened by terrorist actions. One of our most powerful weapons of war, the fast attack submarine USS Hartford, has been hijacked from a pier on the Thames River in Groton, Connecticut. The nuclear powered Hartford is equipped with Tomahawk cruise missiles, vertical launch system missiles, and MK48 torpedoes.”

  Hawkins paused, to make sure the significance of this registered with the audience. He’d been advised to make no mention of nuclear warheads, since there was a possibility that the hijackers might not be aware of them. Even now, the president considered telling them. He told his cabinet that he believed the people of this country had the right to know the extent of the danger they were exposed to. He told them that he believed the hijackers knew a lot more than his intelligence advisors were giving them credit for. Hartford was hand-picked for this disaster. He’d let the country know when it was necessary.

  “Of the regular crew of 121 enlisted and thirteen officers, only two officers and eight enlisted remain aboard. In addition to those, a member of Electric Boat Shipyard management is on board the submarine. At this time we have no information about their safety. We are concerned about their well-being, as we are concerned for the safety of others.”

  He accepted a piece of paper that was handed to him by an aide. He glanced at it and put it down.

  “As your president, I am not only concerned about those brave sailors and that innocent civilian. My fellow Americans, this hijacking of a powerful weapon in our arsenal of freedom represents a direct attack on our nation. I cannot express this clearly enough. The United States of America is under attack.

  “At the present time, Hartford is traveling at the speed of approximately 15 knots in a westerly direction beneath the surface of Long Island Sound. Yes, the submarine is headed toward New York City. But the people of that great city and its boroughs aren’t the only ones in danger. Each of the VLS weapons on Hartford is capable of traveling 1300 miles and hitting targets with an accuracy of a bulls eye the size of a picture window.

  “And what is within range? In short, every major metropolitan area and every nuclear power plant east of the Mississippi are within striking distance. Even as I sit here in the White House, my advisors tell me that Washington, DC, is a prime target for the terrorists’ missiles.”

  Hawkins briefly looked down at his notes and then looked steadily into the camera, talking to each individual viewer.

  “I’d like to remember now a clear, bright September morning in 2001, when hijacked airliners were flown into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and would have undoubtedly struck another target, were it not for the courage of a few Americans in the skies over Pennsylvania. I’d like to remember now the horrible images of fires burning, structures collapsing. I’d like us all to remember the thousands of lives that were lost.

  “That said, I want all my fellow Americans to know that we’re doing everything possible to stop another act of mass murder before it occurs.”

  He leaned forward in the seat, his voice rising.

  “First of all, we will retake that submarine or destroy it before it can do harm to our cities, our towns, our people, or our democratic way of life. To that purpose, I have ordered the entire Atlantic Fleet in pursuit of USS Hartford. I have also ordered the immediate implementation of our nation’s emergency response plans. Our emergency teams are already in place in Boston, New York City, Philadelphia, and Washington, to help direct the orderly evacuation of those cities. Because of the dangers that exist in having a nuclear reactor in the hands of untrained personnel, state and local law enforcement agencies have also been mobilized to help our citizens vacate the areas on either side of the Long Island Sound.”

  “Our two-prong goal right now is to stop any attack by these madmen and to take every precaution to protect Americans at home and around the world.”

  “Despite the dangers we are facing at this very moment, I have ordered—under the provisions of the Homeland Security Act—that the government continue to function without interruption. Federal agencies in Washington are all open and will remain open. Though I am ordering the New York stock exchanges to remain closed today, the nation’s banks and businesses will remain open as usual. We will not allow these barbarians to succeed in disrupting our lives.”

  The president knew this was more rhetorical than true, but he needed to present a forcefully positive outlook on the situation.

  “In the meantime, the search is underway for the identities of those men or nations who are responsible for this evil act. I am directing the full resources of our intelligence and law enforcement communities to find and bring to justice these faceless jackals. I promise you that these men will not remain faceless for long. I also promise you that we will make no distinction between the terrorists who are involved with this act and those who have funded or harbored them.”

  He sat up straighter, tried to brighten his expression. “On behalf of the American people, I want to thank the many world leaders who have called to offer their assistance this morning. As always, America stands shoulder to shoulder with our friends and allies in the ongoing war against terrorism.”

  In a perfect world, he thought, Americans would be aware of any threat against them before the rest of the worl
d even had a hint of a problem. But they weren’t living in a perfect world.

  “Standing before you this morning and informing you that we are facing such a threat is not a pleasant duty. Nonetheless, with the clear and decisive plan of action that I have just laid out, we will move forward to meet this threat head-on.”

  Hawkins spoke fiercely into the camera. “You who are right now listening aboard the USS Hartford, you who have chosen to bring your evil to our door, you will soon feel the full weight of American might. Surrender now, or prepare to pay fully for your actions.”

  Hawkins took a breath and then spoke again in a civil voice.

  “My fellow Americans, over the past four years I have worked tirelessly to make America strong and respected in the world. As your president, I come before you this morning prepared to fulfill my sworn duty now, as well. America has faced down its enemies before, and we will do it again this time. No one can stop us from moving forward in our defense of freedom and all that is good and just in our world.”

  He nodded, without smiling.

  “Thank you. And God bless America.”

  The cameras stopped. The president sat back as one of the production assistants rushed over to disconnect the microphone from his tie. An aide handed him another scalding cup of black coffee.

  Hawkins’ chief of staff stepped over to tell him that Rear Admiral Joseph Smith was on the line for him from the Pentagon.

  The president answered the phone on his desk. “What do you have, Joe?”

  “They’re talking. We have an official demand from Hartford.”

  ~~~~

  Chapter 22

  USS Hartford

  9:10 a.m.

  There was no safe hiding place where he could leave her on the submarine. Right now, the key to their survival was to keep moving. After Rivera and the other man who’d been working with him in the torpedo room ran past the crew’s quarters, McCann realized that Amy should indeed stay with him.

  The two men were undoubtedly heading for the ship’s office, and McCann momentarily considered trying to surprise the two from behind, but then decided against it. He couldn’t risk a shootout with Amy on his heels. Not with the possibility of other hijackers coming to help. They’d be caught in a cross fire with nowhere to hide.

  Now, however, they had to keep moving.

  “They might be trying to fix the wiring I cut up there,” Amy whispered when he motioned for her to climb out of the bunk.

  She looked wild-eyed and a little frightened. But she was holding up surprisingly well.

  “We can’t worry about that now.” He looked her over. She had taken off her vest back in the ship’s office. The sleeves of her green flannel shirt were rolled up. He looked down at her steel-toed boots. “You’ve got to change those. They’ll be too noisy.”

  “Change into what?”

  “Check in the lockers, quietly. You might find a pair of sneakers that fit. If not, go barefoot.”

  As she went searching the lockers, McCann looked out again. All was quiet in the passageway. He considered the officer’s wardroom. In it, one of the ship’s Multi-Function Display terminals was mounted on the outboard bulkhead. The unit, which was tied into the BSY-1 combat system, showed current data on position, course, speed, heading, and depth of Hartford. The device also had different modes, including a new closed loop video hookup that showed views of strategically important spots throughout the ship. The purpose of the MFD system was for the officers to know the boat’s status even when they were away from the control room. He had an identical MFD unit in his cabin.

  He could use that now.

  Though it was impossible, McCann would have liked to get up to his cabin. His safe contained classified documents that should be destroyed, but also additional weapons. Even taking up a position in the officer’s wardroom was indefensible. He’d be in worse shape there than they were in the ship’s office.

  There were a total of eight MFDs around the ship. He needed to access one of them, but it had to be one that was in a less obvious place. At the same time, they had to be really careful not to be caught on one of the small surveillance cameras providing images into the system.

  “A size too big, but I think they’ll do.”

  She was holding a pair of soft-soled sneakers. He saw her sit down on the edge of a bunk and pull off her work boots.

  Seconds later, two others came along the passageway, also going forward toward the ship’s office. Hearing them come past, McCann waited behind the door, weapon drawn, ready to kill whoever poked their head in.

  As the hijackers continued along, he turned to Amy. “Hurry up.”

  Her face was pale with strain, but she quickly pulled on the second sneaker and laced it tight.

  Whoever was running this show must be short-handed, McCann thought. There hadn’t been any kind of thorough search on this level, which meant the men they have must be needed to operate the ship. That was definitely one point in the good guys’ favor.

  Amy stood up and he pulled her behind him as two sets of footsteps came back down the passageway. McCann was certain that the two men went down the steps to the torpedo room.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going from here?” she asked.

  “We’re heading aft.”

  “What are you trying to do?”

  McCann wasn’t accustomed to giving reasons for decisions and orders on his own ship, but he knew this was a special case. Having already seen her persistence in action, he figured it was easier and quicker to explain.

  “We know there are at least two of them forward, probably in the ship’s office. There are two below us in the torpedo room. I don’t know how many of them are up in the control room, so it would not be too wise charging up there and trying to overpower them.”

  “Good thinking,” she said encouragingly. “Especially when your own men are against you.”

  “Not all of them,” he said for the second time. “I found my sonar man knocked out and trussed up in the torpedo room. There could be more of them on board in the same situation as him.”

  “Then, aft it is. But we have to pass the stairs to the torpedo room. They might spot us.”

  “We just have to be quick and careful.” He was ready to go, but Amy grabbed his arm, holding him back.

  “In case we’re separated, where are we going exactly?”

  “We’ll be taking the tunnel through the reactor.”

  “To the engine room?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re going to try to shut down the reactor, aren’t you?”

  She was reading his mind. And if he didn’t get her moving, she’d be asking next for the sequence of what he planned to do. She’d even have him draw a schematic of it.

  “We’ve got to go, Amy.” He took her by the hand and pulled her out into the passageway.

  ~~~~

  Chapter 23

  USS Hartford

  9:15 a.m.

  Once the BSY-1 sonar consoles started coming—one by one—back to life, Paul Cavallaro began running tests on them. Mako waited until the navigation officer gave him a thumbs-up before he turned to his security officer.

  “They went out the hole on the outboard side of the office,” Kilo told him. “I had one of the men follow the passage they cut. They went down to the torpedo room.”

  “The two stationed down there to work the tubes didn’t see them?”

  Kilo shook his head.

  This was a problem. Mako had wanted the commander where he could keep an eye on him. He considered the situation from McCann’s perspective. He wanted to believe that Darius McCann wouldn’t destroy his own submarine, but he wasn’t so sure about that. Navy officers—and submarine commanders, in particular—can be real cowboys at times, and they can do incredibly heroic and stupid things in situations like this.

  He would have liked to keep him alive. But Mako didn’t foresee any complications in their plans. They’d sent off the first communicat
ion. Everything was moving ahead right on schedule. McCann was just making his own survival less viable.

  “How are the two they knocked out?”

  “Still out,” Kilo told him. “They’ll be no good to us considering our schedule.”

  Mako would have liked to have more under his command, but it wasn’t possible. He couldn’t afford to lose many more at this point. “Have you been monitoring the multi-function display terminals?”

  “We have, but nothing’s shown up. McCann knows where the cameras are and he’s been avoiding them.”

  Mako thought about that. McCann also knew where the other MFD units were located, which meant he’d be able to access views of the control room. He frowned, mulling over the possibility of the sub driver being able to identify him. That made McCann’s survival even less tenable, but Mako didn’t like it. McCann might have already seen who his enemy was.

  He motioned toward the two cameras in the control room. One was trained on the conn itself.

  “Have these disabled now,” he told Kilo. After the command was passed along, he motioned Kilo to join him in the radio room, where he was out of earshot of the others in the control room.

  “Take another man and start a search through the boat. Start in the captain’s stateroom, just in case. Make a quick sweep of the living quarters. McCann is too charged up to hide in some bunk or under a table.”

  “The woman might.”

  “That would be good news for us,” Mako said thoughtfully. “Find her and we’ll be able to use her as a bargaining chip with the commander. He’s the hero type. He might not want to let the girl die.”

  Kilo nodded curtly. Mako knew his man wouldn’t have any problem killing a woman or anyone else. He would do what he was ordered to do. Case closed.

  “Lock doors as you go. Searching the torpedo room thoroughly is critical. With all the munitions there, we don’t want to tempt him with the opportunity of doing any serious damage. Also, make sure the engine room is sealed off.”