V4 Vengeance

by Nigel Seed

  “Forgive my English,” he said, “but problems we are having some with the engine. Hans asks is it possible for you to help?”

  By way of an answer the three engineers swung out of their bunks and headed aft. As they came into the engine room the stench of diesel oil was even stronger and the decks were slippery with the stuff. They set to work with the German engineers, checking through the engine systems. Having worked on the old diesels in the underground base they knew their way around and within an hour they had identified the problem as a blockage in the fuel feed pipes caused by a failure in the filtration system. It took time to remove the affected pipes and to flush them clean. Finding the spare filter in the jumble of spares they had taken aboard took just as long, but once that was fitted and the pipes back in place and resting in their mountings, they tried the engine again. It coughed and wheezed as the air in the fuel pipes worked its way through, but then the satisfying roar of the cylinders firing almost deafened them. The engine room staff were grateful, but returned to nursing their charges after a few shouted words of thanks.

  When they got back to their own compartment, Jim said, “Better get changed. The clothes you have on must be soaked in diesel.”

  Ivan and Geordie exchanged a knowing look. Ivan said, “In a bit boss. I’m OK for now.”

  Jim knew enough not to question his old Sergeant Major. Something was going on that he was not aware of, but since he trusted his two companions implicitly he let it slide. With the boat back at cruising speed they could feel the waves pounding over the bow again.

  “We seem to be heading into the weather,” said Jim, “and as far as I know the prevailing wind in the Atlantic blows from west to east so chances are we are still heading west. Might be nice if we could confirm that.”

  Ivan looked thoughtful. “What time is it?”

  Jim checked his watch, “Just before dawn, that engine took a while.”

  “Thought so. Be back in a bit. Geordie, your turn to check the lower decks, might be an idea to have a look in the bilges this time, after that dive.”

  Ivan rolled out of his bunk and went forward into the control room. He got to the bottom of the conning tower ladder and called up for permission to come on deck. The first officer was up there and after a second or two’s hesitation, he gestured for Ivan to come out onto the conning tower deck. Ivan climbed up and thanked the officer. He explained about the diesel soaking his coveralls and his wish to dry them out in the wind. He chatted about the weather and the sea, getting nothing but grunts from the officer next to him. He stopped talking and as dawn broke he stared along the narrow foredeck to the sharp black bows that were piercing the waves.

  “Nice to get some sun on your back for a change,” he said. “Well thanks for the fresh air. I can’t stay gossiping with you all day.”

  He dropped back down the ladder and made his way into the compartment in time to be handed a mug of diesel-smelling coffee.

  “Well, it looks like the weather is starting to clear up a little, the waves are a lot smaller,” he said. “And we are heading directly away from the sunrise. Not very precise, but as near as damn it, we are still heading due west.”

  Jim looked around at them all. “If we have been heading west consistently since we left Cape Wrath we must be almost at the East Coast of the US. So selling the boats to South Americans seems to be out. Maybe he has found an American collector?”

  Andrei made breakfast and passed it to them. He took three bowls back into the engine room for the Germans who were tending the diesels. He rejoined them and they sat and ate in silence. Breakfast over, they were settling in for yet another boring day when Romanov appeared in their compartment for the first time since they had left Kiel.

  “Gentlemen, forgive my absence, but I have been a little busy with some details of my museum projects. However, would you pack up your belongings and come forward into the control room. This is as far as we go. We are transferring to another ship.”

  With no more explanation, he carried on aft into the engine room. Moments later he was back heading forward.

  “Come on gentlemen, no time to lose.”

  The three engineers grabbed their bulky ex-Army haversacks and Andrei took his garish Spartak Moscow sports bag and they headed forward to make a queue behind the Russian bodyguards at the foot of the conning tower ladder. The three engine room Germans joined them, also carrying their bags over their shoulders. Romanov had a few quiet words with the Captain and then led the way up the ladder. As they climbed out of the hatch one of the bodyguards was standing on the bridge deck watching them. Romanov shouted up to him from the aft deck and he shrugged and preceded them down the outside ladder.

  Ivan waited till he was clear, then whispered to the others, “I don’t like this. Romanov said something about the Arabs would take care of us. Best we get ready as soon as we are down on the gratings.”

  Geordie nodded and climbed over the edge of the conning tower and down the ladder. As soon as he was down he started to rummage in his haversack. Ivan joined him and started to do the same in his bag. Jim wondered what they were planning, but years in the Army had taught him when to let his NCOs get on with things. Moving along the deck was easier than Jim had anticipated. The waves had moderated considerably and the movement of the U-Boat was much more comfortable. They moved further back toward the stern and gravitated into three groups, Romanov and his heavies furthest aft and the engine room men closest to the conning tower.

  As they watched, a sleek modern luxury yacht appeared out of the slowly clearing mist and stopped about two hundred meters from them. A large hatch swung up at the stern of the yacht and a Rigid Inflatable Powerboat was quickly launched across the swimming platform. A crewman jumped in, started the engines and the boat slid rapidly across the intervening sea to come alongside the submarine.

  “Say what you like about Romanov he has good taste in equipment.”

  “Why’s that boss?”

  “Unless I am reading the markings wrongly that’s a Ribcraft with twin Mariner outboards. Probably the best sea boat for rescues you could wish for.”

  Romanov and his bodyguards jumped the gap into the boat and as Jim stepped toward it, the driver pushed the throttle levers forward and the boat roared off. Romanov waved as he headed for his yacht, then turned to stare ahead.

  “Oh shit! Here we go!” said Geordie.

  Jim spun round in time to see two of the Arab crew appear at the rear of the conning tower carrying AK-47 assault rifles. They leaned over the edge of the tower and opened fire on the nearest group. The three Germans were ripped by the 7.62 mm bullets and crashed to the deck. One slid slowly over the edge of the casing into the water, dragging his bag with him.

  The two gunmen had emptied their magazines in the first attack and were down behind the bridge coaming reloading when Geordie shouted “Boss! Think fast! Catch!”

  Jim turned to see a black MP-40 submachine gun in the air heading his way. He snatched it to him and pulled the cocking lever. Geordie stepped up beside him with another weapon ready in his hands and waited until the two Arabs stood back up to kill them. As they appeared he opened fire. The short burst from the old weapon struck the first killer in the forehead and he went down in a spray of blood. The second ducked out of sight. The two ex-soldiers knelt on one knee with the weapons at the ready.

  Jim looked around. The yacht was leaving, foam churning at its stern as it moved back into the mist. Apparently Romanov did not need to stay for the amusement. There was shouting from the conning tower though they could see nobody.

  “What are they saying Geordie?”

  “They are clearing the deck and getting ready to submerge. Apparently they see no need to lose another man to finish us off.”

  Ivan’s voice came from behind them, “OK guys! Time to leave!”

  Jim turned to find Ivan kneeling on the deck with an inflatable dinghy rolled out in front of him. Now he knew why he had not changed clothes. His haversack had b
een full of other things.

  “I’ll buy it. Where the devil did you get that?”

  Ivan turned the stop cock on the small inflation cylinder and as the boat inflated said, “Remember asking for a dinghy so we could look for the outside of the tunnel entrance? We didn’t need it then, but I brought it along anyway.”

  The vents around them started to blow and the U-Boat started to dive under them.

  “Let’s go! Andrei come on!”

  Geordie grabbed the Russian who was standing in shock at the speed his world had changed and pushed him toward the dinghy. Ivan threw the boat over the side into the foaming water and held on to the mooring line. Geordie practically threw the dazed Russian into the dinghy, his sub-machine gun falling from his hand as he did so and disappearing under the churning surface of the water. Jim and Geordie piled in on top of the Russian and Ivan jumped in last as the U-Boat slid beneath the water. The small, overloaded dinghy rocked dangerously, but stayed upright.

  The water calmed and they found themselves alone on a very large gray ocean apart from one of the bags belonging to the engine room men that slipped out of sight as they watched. The yacht was gone and the two U-Boats were now beneath the water, heading away from them.

  Jim looked at his two companions, who were grinning from ear to ear. “Nice job guys. I don’t suppose you packed a helicopter in there as well?”

  “No, boss, sorry. But it looks like we have been luckier than some.”

  Jim looked over his shoulder to see what Ivan was looking at. There was a body, floating face down, close to them. The long dark hair spread out on the water made it clear who it was. The bloody mess at the back of her head told her story.

  Geordie stared then shouted. “Bloody hell! Her fingers are moving she’s alive!”

  The four men paddled madly with their hands the few yards to Tatiana. Ivan leaned over the front of the boat and his massive strength made lifting her out of the water child’s play. She was unconscious, but still breathing. They moved around in the small boat as best they could to try and make her comfortable.

  Jim examined the back of her head, the bullets had done a lot of damage, but as far as he could see had not penetrated the skull. The blood spattered across her chest was more of a worry. As he cradled her head, her eyes fluttered open and looked into his.

  “Hello beautiful. Nice of you to join us.”

  Chapter 18

  An hour later the inside of the U-Boat was all quiet efficiency. The dead man had been brought down into the boat and was stretched out on what had been Andrei’s bunk with the curtain pulled across to shield him from his shipmates. The skipper took the boat to periscope depth and watched intently as the outer marks for the shipping channel slid past them. The sonar operator listened for other traffic coming their way. Not an easy task in the large, busy river, using outdated equipment. The skipper gave a running commentary of everything he was seeing to his navigating officer who identified each landmark and buoy on the detailed chart spread in front of him.

  Forward, in the missile bay, the securing straps were being removed from the V1 missiles and stowed out of the way, then the compressed air tanks were checked for sufficient pressure. The wedges under the wheels of the trollies would stay in place until the last minute. Two hours and ten minutes after shooting the Germans and drowning the other four Europeans, the Captain heard his navigator tell him there was five minutes to run until they were in position. He ordered the electric motors to slow speed and as they reached the planned spot, he stopped the boat and then let her gently settle to the bottom of the estuary, seventy feet below, to await the appointed time. The sonar man reported the second submarine moving toward them and stopping. He heard the sound of ballast tanks filling as the other boat also settled into the river mud to wait. The crew were quiet, feeling their own thoughts. The hour of prayer came and every man aboard faced Mecca to make his peace before they visited vengeance on the enemy.

  The clocks in the control room ticked around to 10:00 a.m. Eastern Standard Time with every man checking his own watch. The two submarines rose slowly to periscope depth. The radio antennae on both boats were deployed. For the first time they would use their full power radios. Even if they were detected, it was now too late to stop them. The two U-Boats in turn transmitted confirmation that they were ready. The luxury motor yacht heading out into the Atlantic confirmed receipt of the readiness signal and gave the order to start the attack. V4-1 acknowledged, then V4-2, and then a third voice agreed that he was ready too. Both of the submarine skippers were surprised. Was this another attacker they did not know about? Perhaps another brother was bringing an airliner to join the attack? That had terrified the enemy before and would cause even more confusion.

  At 10:06 the two old, but still deadly, U-Boats rose from the murky depths of the Hudson River into the misty gray morning. It was good that the waters had calmed as the wind dropped. It would make their task much easier with a stable launch platform.

  The large hatches on the foredeck of each boat swung open as crewmen ran forward to handle the V-1 Flying Bombs that rose on the hydraulic lifts from the missile compartments of the two boats. They pushed the trolleys forward to the back of the deck ramps and gently, but firmly, slid the V-1s forward into launching position. They connected the launch control cables and ensured the missiles were linked to the catapult slugs between the launch rails. The handling trolleys were heaved over the side and out of the way as the deck hatch closed behind them. The crewmen ran behind the conning towers for shelter from the exhaust of the Pulse Jets and the two Captains in the conning towers saluted each other, then ducked for cover and gave the order to launch. The crewman at the small launch station beside the radio operated his controls. The pulse jet engines burst into throbbing life, the compressed air forced the catapult system to drag the weapons up to flight speed and the two missiles pounded the length of the launch ramps and leapt into the air, heading for Manhattan Island. Before the exhaust smoke had fully cleared, the deck hatches reopened and the second missile on each boat rose into the misty morning light.

  Loading and launching took eight minutes. They needed a mere seventy-two minutes without detection to complete the attack and to bring New York to its knees. At its normal speed of three hundred and fifty knots each flying bomb would reach lower Manhattan in just over two minutes. As soon as it did, the timer would operate and the crude guillotine device inside would sever the control cables sending it into a power dive. As the dive commenced the warhead mechanism would also operate and mix the two chemicals into a deadly nerve agent that would spread as a gas on impact. Even after all these years, this predecessor of all the cruise missiles that followed, would be unstoppable and deadly. New York lay unprepared for the assault winging toward it.

  Chapter 19

  In Central Park the TV cameras rolled, beaming images of the Mayor of the city presenting awards for valor to men and women from the Fire and Police Departments. The Mayor thought it the perfect day to showcase the city and improve its image for tourists.

  The chiefs and senior officers of those departments stood by in their finest uniforms to honor their people. The Mayor looked up toward the buzzing, pounding noise of the pulse jet engine approaching him. Others looked in the same direction. One camera swung round and was the first to pick up the small aircraft as it approached and then suddenly dived into the park. It struck the ground a little over three hundred meters from the ceremony. As usual with first-responders, and despite being dressed in their best uniforms, the police and fire officers ran toward the crash site to render assistance, to what they assumed was a light aircraft with a crew. It was their last, selfless act.

  The cloud of nerve agent released by the missile blew toward them on the gentle breeze. The cameras recorded the running men and women suddenly stopping and starting to choke. In seconds the manicured grass of the park was littered with writhing bodies that shook and went rigid. The camera crews and news reporters continued recording t
he scene and commenting on it without understanding what was happening, until a few seconds later when the cloud reached them as well. The cameras continued to roll and to transmit the scene even while their operators lay dead behind them. In the studios the anchor people tried to raise the outside broadcast crews to ask for a better understanding of what they were seeing. There could be no response.

  In the park the small crowd of spectators, realizing that something deadly was happening, panicked and ran screaming away from the scene. Some, the fastest, who ran to the sides of the park, survived. Those who ran away downwind did not. The terrorist crews could not have asked for a better start to their attack.

  The second missile skimmed over the park and crashed into Harlem to unleash its silent cargo. People in the streets and shops who came into contact with the deadly airborne droplets were killed where they stood. Drivers in their vehicles lost control as their lives were snatched from them by the invisible killer. The trucks and cars careered across roads into shops or buildings. Fires started as the fuel tanks of some of the older vehicles exploded.

  New Yorkers watching their televisions reeled in shock. The nightmare of the World Trade Center was back. They could not imagine that in eight minutes more would come.

  The two subsequent missiles launched almost simultaneously. The first crashed to earth in Church Street on the edge of the Tribeca district, the second came down in the Lower East Side. The nerve agent spewed into the streets and took the lives of all it touched. The screams, as people saw others dropping and ran, echoed through the canyons of the city. The screaming and running, terrified people spread the panic. Nobody knew what was happening.

  Most New Yorkers had been nervous of another terrorist attack for years and with good reason. The attack on the World Trade Center was seared into their memories along with recollections of friends, relatives and neighbors who had not come home that day. Now there were small aircraft landing all over the city and they had nowhere to run. Police officers had no direction and no clue as to what was happening, but they did their best to calm people and to start an orderly evacuation. They had little chance of success and were overwhelmed. Sadly, courage is no defense against nerve gas. Office buildings and banks emptied as people tried to avoid the horror by running away from a terror they could not see. Some ran to the river, others ran away from it. Nowhere was safe.