Under Water Secret

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  With the appropriate documentation Wade and Mike rode a nice bus to Egypt with a contingent of tourists. Mike didn't ask why or who they were, but took a seat and fell asleep when it got dark. Wade, on the other hand, was wired for sound. He did an inventory of each person while the light held and then he too nodded off for the almost three hundred mile trip.

  Wade did wake up at the border check point, but apparently all was well as the bus up shifted gears headed westerly. It was still dark out when they arrived in Alexandria. A dark colored car picked them up delivering Mike and Wade at a small warehouse. Neither one had any idea where the hell they were, but next thing they knew, a large room at the back held some single beds, an old sofa, a beat up old wooden desk and chair. A hotplate on a small sink counter looked like the only means of cooking. An old refrigerator, making awful noises, would make it hard to sleep. Mike's first thought was to unplug it at sleeping time.

  The crates of scuba gear and other things were off loaded by a truck later that same night just before daylight. The driver said someone would be by around 9 am with a car and a map. Mike thanked the guy and went back to wait it out. Wade had his laptop booted up emailing in code to Billy who was now at the Round House. Mike was hungry and before he went through the crates he rifled around in the small kitchen. Surprisingly he discovered a lot of can goods. In the old refer he found some fresh cut beef tenderloins. He dug them out and with a fry pan and the hotplate; he soon had a sizzling meal of protein.

  Stomachs full, Wade and Mike started sorting through the crates. Along with bubble less scuba gear spear guns were also found. Mike wondered how far from the water they were as he found a half dozen GPS tracking devices special made for underwater heavy duty use. In another waterproof box were four handguns. Two were model 70 Beretta 22 caliber and the other two were 9 mm Glock pistols; complete with boxes of ammunition. Also an assortment of knives and other instruments of killing were for the asking.

  For this excursion Mike chose the 9 mm and so did Wade. After that they waited for someone to come and give a scenic tour of the waterfront.

  Wade said to Mike, "Mike, I'm not used to this kind of mission. Just give me orders and I'll follow what you say to the letter."

  "If you do that Wade, all will be fine. The hard part is learning the gift of gab. In this part of the god forsaken world, English is not part of their culture much. Sure you'll find it at a higher level of the social structure, but down here the bottom feeders kill first and ask questions when you stop breathing. What you don't want to do is being taken prisoner. Gobble that evil tasting pill if the end is in sight. If there's a remote chance of skating out of a bad situation, hold off until the very end."

  Another car, different than the last one, pulled up outside the warehouse; a dark skinned man stepped out, looked around and opened a small door to the side of the big doors. Mike walked up told him his name. The man said, "I speak a little English. Let's drive around the port area. I'll show you where the Taliban are staying."

  They climbed in and Wade rode in the back while Mike sat upfront. The man's name was unpronounceable so he said, "Just call me Joe like I heard all Americans were named Joe." Mike laughed and soon the talkative Joe did a fine job of showing them around the port area.

  In one place, not so far from where they were staying, Joe stopped and opened the hood of the car. He had a water bottle that he poured on the engine to make it steam. Then he jumped back in and said, "Look at the edge of the dock and you will see a ladder going down. That is where you will go to swim to the place where the submarines are docked."

  He jumped back out and slammed the hood. They drove off slowly. He said, "Can you see that long low building that runs alongside that long pier? That's where the subs are docked. I'd guess you would have to swim about ten minutes to reach your objective."

  Wade looked hard to see any guards, but saw nothing. He decided to keep his mouth shut until he and Mike were alone. Mike was busy studying the area. He marked it on the map Joe had given to him. Then he said, "Joe can you get me some Arab clothes and make up. I need to go undercover for a few hours and study the target."

  "I sure can. Now if you'd like, I can drive you to a restaurant where no one will be the wiser. I guarantee you will not get sick."

  Mike looked back at Wade who shrugged his shoulders. Mike said, "Let's go Joe. I'm starving. However, that warehouse beef was good. We thank whoever did it."

  "One of my wives did it. She the best of the bunch. I'll tell her you liked it."

  After a hearty meal, as Wade described, "Mystery meat and other things," they went over a plan for in and out of the water. Joe had told them an Israeli would come by and show them how the GPS would be attached. Mike frowned but said nothing. Wade had his laptop working hard for tides, weather forecasts, currents and times of prayer. It appeared that around 7:30 pm was a good time to exit the water. It would be dark and the fanatics would be praising Allah.

  A double rap on the door alerted Mike that the Israeli was here. Mike held his hand behind his back gripping the Glock while he slowly opened the door; mindful not to be in front of the door if someone decided to kick it open.

  A young, fresh faced man stood smiling at him. He said in perfect English, "May I come in, I'm to show you a few things about our GPS trackers."

  Mike welcomed him in and the young man introduced himself as Ben Gurion, but he said, "Just call me Ben."

  Mike laughed and told him they had been expecting him. He led the way to the back of the warehouse where the crates were. Ben picked up the box of GPS units and took one out. He sat the box down and showed Mike how it worked. Holding the unit in one hand and from behind his back drew a knife out, made Mike jump back. Ben smiled and said, "No don't be alarmed. This metal blade activates the weld.

  Mike was all eyes as Ben walked over to a metal post, held the unit against it and scraped the base with the knife. A brief flame started and then Ben stood back as the unit welded itself to the post. The weld slowly went in a circle along the edge of the base and then went out when completely.

  Mike and Wade walked over and Ben handed him the knife saying, "Try to remove it." Mike knocked on the side of it but he knew when a weld was a weld: metal to metal. He thought this was very high tech. Wade said, "Way cool." Mike looked at him kind of strange.

  Mike said, "You sound like my kids; but that's not saying anything against being cool."

  Ben asked if there was anything else they needed or wanted. Before when he came through the door he handed Mike a sack. After they were finished with the GPS, Mike was looking through the sack finding everything he needed and then some. He shook Ben's hand and said thanks. Ben said he would be back to pick them up when called.

  Sometime later after pouring over the data from the map and laptop, it was time to dress up for an outing. The only thing to worry about was if they had to speak to someone. Both decided to play deaf and dumb.

  Make up on, dressed like Arabs out the door they went. They went back to the wharf area and sat on the dock looking like two guys just passing the time. A few boats chugged by, but no one took any notice of them. This part of the port area was pretty much devoid of any activity. Mike quietly whispered, we'll deep six the tanks and gear under this ladder. I really doubt anyone will be diving here or fishing. We'll hide the gear well under the wharf."

  Wade asked, "When do we make our move Mike?"

  "Tomorrow night. I think it will be impossible to find out their target or targets. Our best bet is the GPS units. Our subs will shadow the Romeos. If they open their torpedo doors, our guys will blow them out of the water. What I don't understand is why we don't blow the bastards up right now. I think politics plays a huge role in this terrorist phenomenon."

  "Where do we place the GPS units Mike."

  "I thought the best place would be on the rudder."

  "Or under the screw shaft," said Wade.

  "Now that sounds like a good spot. Even though it's round the weld will keep it fr
om falling off. I think we best put two on each sub."

  "We need a high tide so we can swim up from below the sub. We can't take any chances of some yahoo peeing off the sub and seeing a large form underwater."

  The next day Mike and Wade made a couple of forays to the dock area. Everything seemed the same: all peaceful and quiet.

  That night, at high tide, two men scurried along carrying on their backs scuba gear. Silently they sat at the wharf, put on their fins, goggles and with a fish net sack attached to their weight belts slipped into the water. The only thing they could see was a glowing compass directing them as they skimmed the bottom of the harbor. When Mike felt they were very close, he surfaced and took his bearings.

  A few minutes later they were inside the enclosure directly under the two subs. While Mike attached the first GPS, Wade hovered over the top of the unit to keep the weld flash from being seen. Soon they were finished. Mike motioned to return and for some reason Wade pointed up. Mike didn't like it but he must have had a reason. Mike followed him up directly under the stern and both surface very quietly.

  Mike heard voices from above. Two different voices were speaking in English, but with bad pronunciation. Both men heard the word New York and Los Angeles. Then all they heard were steps leading away from where they were. That was the cue to depart and soon Mike and Wade were walking back to their warehouse.

  When they had showered and dressed, Mike said, "How did you know there was anyone up there?"

  Wade said, "While you were placing the GPS unit I was floating above you. I saw a flash of a light and thought someone was smoking. I think we got a little lucky Mike."

  "Let's get the hell out of here Wade. Our job is finished."

  Chapter Eight

  Two weeks later Brad and Mike stood on the cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Mike had just finished telling Brad the complete story. Brad patted him on the back and said good job. Wade was with General Pratt in the state of Washington. Just a little ways from Bremerton was the home base of the USAs Trident Submarines. A high level meeting was going on about how to best protect New York City and Los Angeles.

  Brad said, "I know you wonder why we don't blow the damn subs out of the water as soon as they enter open water. I asked that very question. You can believe this or not, the politics are playing a big role in this scenario. If we sink the subs in the middle of the ocean, no one will believe it or gain from it. If we sink a sub in New York's harbor, raise the destroyed sub for all to see, the politicians are heroes. The same holds true on the west coast."

  "Man, this sucks, as my kids would say. However, our Tridents will take care of them before any damage is done. Meanwhile we'll spill their blood all over the beach here in Oregon. They'll think twice before doing it again."

  "Let's go see how Billy's doing tracking the subs," said Brad.

  They found Billy concentrating on the electronic hardware along with Wendy and Agent Jones. Billy said, "One sub is just going past Gibraltar. The other one is just now emerging from the Suez Canal. Once we get a rate of speed we can calculate how long until they arrive at their targets. Meanwhile, we'll concentrate on targets. If they use only torpedoes then ships, oil storage and such things are the likely targets. In the LA area lots of targets exist and a lot of coast line to cover."

  Brad said, "We've nothing to do but keep after it Billy. I think we have bought some time and I'm going to New York taking Mike with me. Wendy and Agent Jones are going with me also. We're going to play tourist for awhile."

  Brads cell phone rang. He listened and then he said he would go to the other phone. Brad waited while his father rang him up on the secure satellite phone. Brad answered it immediately listening, not saying a word. Brad said, "Father, I'm on my way up to see you before I go to New York City. Have someone meet us at Tacoma Industrial Airport in about four hours."

  He hung up the phone and all eyes were on him. He said, with a serious look in his eyes, "Apparently there was a third submarine. Okay, Mike, Wendy and Agent Jones let's be ready to leave the house in ten minutes. Billy alert the pilots and file a plan to Tacoma."

  Brad ran upstairs to tell Sujin and found the Master drinking tea. He said, "Master, we are going to the most hi tech submarine base in the world. Would you like to visit there?"

  He turned to Sujin and said, "We got run honey. Apparently there's another sub we didn't count on. First we're going to Washington State and from there to New York City. I'll call you from New York." She hugged her husband and then said,

  "Be well my husband. We have enough men around here I feel totally safe."

  Everyone grabbed their bags previously prepared for just this type of emergency. In no time they were in the van, Master included, with Sandy sitting on the floor of the van, in front of the Master, on the way to the airport about an hour away.

  A Navy van with Wade riding along met them at the Tacoma airport. Wade shook everyone's hand and gave deep bow to the Master. In less than an hour they were at the Naval Submarine Base Bangor. Security was tight and Sandy, a dog; and a strange looking Chinese man was not a welcome addition. Finally the guard talked to General Pratt and all was well. He apologized and gave a smart salute.

  This was Brad's first time here as was duly impressed. The atmosphere was one of professionalism and the personnel were smartly dressed in crisp uniforms. The team was led to an elevator and down they went. No one knew how many floors passed but in short time the elevator stopped and the doors hissed open.

  The room was hard to describe. Wendy would say later that was concave and square with two parts as one. Agent Jones said it was futuristic. Brad would say, if asked, functional. The Master never said a word, but walked around with his hands behind his back. If he was an oddity, the staff never blinked an eye. Sandy had her curiosity piqued. She looked at her master and he nodded to her. She went around sniffing out the staff. Most ignored her, but some gave her a head rub.

  General Pratt, in uniform, four stars gleaming from his shirt collar, motioned his son over to a central table. A square table with a flattened relief world map in vivid color occupied the entire table. The map was occupied with all of the current naval ships dotting the map. How it was done only Billy would know. Obviously it was computer generated as each ship moved according to its speed. Agent Jones was completely amazed and impressed. The terrorist subs were in red. Two had sailed through the Suez Canal with the other one going by way of Gibraltar.

  Brad only briefly wondered where the third one came from, but it didn't make any difference now. Both subs were being shadowed by two Trident subs and Wade's fathers small flat top. Across to the Atlantic, one sub was also being shadowed by a Trident sub.

  Brad asked, "How long can a Romeo class sub run underwater until it needs its batteries charged?"

  A commander across the table said, "Sir, depending on the speed it can stay down for five or eight days."

  "I see they're in the Red Sea now. What would you expect their course to be once they hit open water," asked Brad.

  The same officer answered, "We expect them to hug the coast line. It will make it harder to keep an eye on the one sub without the GPS tracker, but our subs will do their best."

  Brad said, "These guys are not stupid and they know we have subs all over the world. Expect the unexpected."

  Brad's father said, "We're trying to remain covert. We don't want to spook them and have them change target locations."

  "How about the one headed for the Atlantic," Brad asked.

  "It will have to cross directly to North America," Another voice said. Brad looked up and saw a grey haired admiral. He said, "I'm Rear Admiral Joe Smacker. I am commander of this base. What I don't appreciate are dogs and a weird looking Chinese dragon man on my base or better yet, in my war room."

  The room went silent except the slight sounds of computers running. Brad's expression never changed, but his father's face turned crimson.

  Admiral Smacker continued saying, "By whose authority are you here by
. Better yet, who the hell are you people?"

  Inside Brad was fuming. Sandy had a low growl in her throat. Faster than the eye could see the Master stood behind the Admiral waiting for a sign from Brad to shut this foul mouth man up. General Pratt said, "Admiral, this is my son Brad Pratt and his team. They are here on my orders and my orders come directly from the President."

  "Did I miss something here," said the Admiral Smacker. "Who are Brad Pratt and his team of what?"

  Brad thought it was time to put a halt to this charade. He pulled out his cell phone and made a call. Not more than a minute went by and he said into the phone, "Just a minute sir."

  Brad walked up to the short admiral and handed him the phone. Smacker said, "Who the hell am I talking to now?" The color drained out of his face as he came to attention. He said, "Yes sir. Right you are sir. I'll take care of it sir. I beg you pardon. His name is Commodore Ralph Login. My apologies sir." He handed the phone back to Brad. He looked from Brad to his dog, to his father and then saw a toothless Chinese man grinning at him.

  He said to nobody in particular, starring at the strangers in his war room, "I've been relieved of command. Who the hell are you people?" He turned and slowly walked out.

  General Pratt said, "Okay people, back to business."

  Aboard the Romeo sub number 101 the sonar man waved at the First Officer. Then he turned to the Captain and said, "We are being followed Captain."