by Scott Cook
“Aye, aye, sir,” the control room phone talker said excitedly and then passed on the message.
“Should we fire?” Dutch asked.
“Not yet,” Williams said, “I want him to shoot. I want to make sure we get him, XO.”
There were a couple of tense minutes and then the sonarman shouted, “Hot noise in the water! Torpedoes in the water!”
“Helm, increase speed to ten knots!” Williams said excitedly.
“Maneuvering answers ten knots!” Post said excitedly.
“Phone talker,” Williams said with far more calm than he felt, “Send the word to after torpedo. Tube nine is a go.”
“Tube nine fired electrically!” Dutch reported from the fire control board.
Williams counted to six, “Fire ten!”
The ship shuddered as the last after fish was expelled from the ship with a fist of compressed air. If he’d guessed right, their defensive shot would explode, taking out or disabling the two incoming fish. Then the last torpedo would go right for where the German had bottomed out.
“Tube ten fired electrically!” Dutch almost shouted so keyed up had he become, “Both fish running hot, straight and normal!”
The seconds seemed to tick by with agonizing slowness. Now that combat had finally come after so much waiting, things couldn’t happen fast enough. Dutch began counting down the range to the German torpedoes as Cob ran into the control room, his face slick with sweat.
“It’s on, Chief,” Williams said, “Let’s hope that the work you, your team and Nichols did pays off.”
“Well, if it don’t,” Sparky said with a death’s head grin, “We ain’t gonna be around long to bitch about it, sir.”
“Are we gonna make it, Dutch?” Williams asked.
“I think so, skipper,” Dutch said, “Our fish should have about twenty seconds left and those jerry torpedoes are about two hundred yards off!”
“Sound collision!” Williams exclaimed.
The collision horn blared in three pairs of two short blasts. Everyone grabbed onto something.
The explosion came and it seemed like the world was ending. The ship was slammed forward and down by a concussion wave carried through seawater. Lights rattled in their housings, several of which burst and anything slung from the overhead looked like it might come raining down on the crew.
“Full rise on the planes!” Williams shouted, “Standby on the chicken switches, Cob!”
“Depth one four zero…” Jacobs and Post hollered simultaneously as the helmsman fought to keep the bucking and yawing ship on a steady course. Post took over the reports, “One five zero…”
“Sir, I’ve lost the stern planes,” Cob reported over the din.
“Flooding in after torpedo and engine room!” The Phone talker almost shrieked.
“Enemy fish?” Williams shouted over the roaring shockwave and the rattling gear. It was starting to subside now.
“No contact!” Dutch exulted, “God damn, skipper! It worked.”
“How about our other fish?” Williams asked.
“Depth now one six five feet!” Post exclaimed, fear clearly evident in his tone, “Bow planes not enough, sir.”
“Blow all tanks, Chief!” Williams ordered, “Put us on the roof.”
There was another explosion, this one far distant and carried to them through the ocean. Because sound travels four times faster through water as air, it came long before anyone would expect.
“Impact,” Dutch reported, “Can’t tell if we got him though, sir… too much hot acoustic out there.”
“Give me a detailed damage from aft, phone talker,” Williams ordered.
“Heavy flooding, in the after torpedo,” The phone talker said, “They’re gonna abandon and seal it off. Mr. Nichols thinks they can get the engine room flooding under control, especially with lower water pressure.”
“Fuck…” Williams cursed softly. He took a steadying breath, “Phone talker, order abandon and seal after room. Order Eng. to flood his room with high pressure air.”
Their gambit had worked. The German homing torpedoes hadn’t gotten them, but the combined explosion of three warheads less than a hundred yards astern had created enough of a pressure wave set to bust open some welds or stove in an inner torpedo door or two. The after room might not have had time to close the outer doors.
“Wonder if the Krout is still out there and how bad?” Sparky voiced from the diving station.
“He’s out there,” Dutch said glumly, “I’m getting a reading and I’m picking up hull popping noises. He’s coming shallow.”
“Then maybe we hurt him, too,” Williams opined, “It’s not over yet, boys!”
Chapter 20
“Well… it appears this will be an eventful meal,” Al-Rajid said as Imani led Audrey, McClay and myself into the dining saloon attached to the spacious galley.
“We meet at last,” Jack Brody said, extending a hand to Audrey, “Welcome aboard, Ms. Lambert.”
“I’m not here to make nice, Brody,” Audrey said coldly, refusing the hand, “You and your friend Foster tried to have my granddad killed this morning and have been spying on us. I’m here to return the favor.”
“To try and kill us?” Al-Rajid said, stepping forward and extending his own hand, “Or to spy? Ms. Lambert, I’m Jibreel Al-Rajid. Welcome aboard the Robert Ballard. I can assure you, as I’ve already assured Mr. Jarvis, that we have nothing to do with these despicable deeds.”
“Then who?” Audrey asked, reluctantly taking the man’s hand, “We’re both after the same thing. Who else would bother?”
“You think we’d commit murder simply to find a submarine?” Brody asked.
“Considering what’s at stake?” Audrey said, taking a place at the large table between me and Imani. She eyed me with another cold glare as she sat.
“And what’s that?” Brody asked as he sat at the head of the table, “you think we’d kill for that gold on the Dogfish? Or are you willing to admit what you really hired Jarvis to help you find. The U-2626.”
I was surprised that no surprise registered on Audrey’s face. If she wasn’t surprised that her adversaries knew the real story, then she must have figured that all along. Although we’d floated the idea around, her reaction wasn’t one of confirmation but certainty.
I frowned at her, “You knew for sure all along?”
“I suspected,” She sniffed.
“It seems like more then speculation,” I said more than a little piqued, “The way it sounded when we discussed it, you were no more sure than I was… but evidently that’s not the case.”
“I wasn’t absolutely certain,” Audrey said smoothly, “But I had to assume. It doesn’t really matter, does it? Certainly we can’t allow them to recover the boat.”
“it matters only to the extent of how much you trusted me,” I said coldly, “How much you held back. That’s dangerous in my line, Audrey… and in yours. It makes me wonder what else you haven’t told me?”
“Please,” Al-Rajid said diplomatically and lifted the cover off of an ornate platter, revealing a joint of beef roasted in some very aromatic spices, “This is a social occasion. A chance for us to get to know one another and to perhaps even set aside any animosity and suspicion. Wouldn’t it be better for all of us if we combined resources and knowledge?”
“You mean if you could use my granddad’s knowledge to find that German submarine and get your hands on their special cargo?” Audrey asked, “As if my government would allow that, Al-Rajid? As if I’d allow you and your trained whore to use it for whatever and whomever really wants it?”
“Ah,” Al-Rajid said, casting a glance at Imani who hadn’t even batted an eye. You had to admire her level headedness. He smiled warmly at Audrey, “Because Ms. Tariffa and I are Arab, we must automatically be terrorists, yes? Tried and convicted simply for being from the Middle East?”
Audrey frowned at that and seemed to back down a little, “I’m not saying that, Mr. Al-Rajid
—“
“Jibreel,” he said kindly, continuing to wear his warm smile.
“—Jibreel,” Audrey said, “But you have to admit…”
“That they’re possibly terrorists and that I’m a traitor to my own nation?” Brody asked snidely, “Is that what you’re accusing us of, Audrey?”
The table could seat eight people. Currently, it only held six, though. I sat on one side next to Audrey. Brody sat to my right at the head and Imani at the foot. McClay and Al-Rajid sat across from Audrey and I. It was a good setup for conversation, if any actually ever broke out. For the moment, it was a negotiating table which felt on the verge of a declaration of war.
I stood and began carving what looked like an entire tenderloin of beef that had been roasted along with potatoes, carrots, parsnips and squash. There was a heavy scent of cardamom, cumin and coriander along with a hint of cinnamon and lots of garlic. Next to the main platter was a gravy boat and two bottles of what were probably expensive Pino Noir. I began to serve food to each person in turn. I caught Imani’s eye and she smiled.
“You’re the ones who came calling on my grandfather,” Audrey said.
“So that makes us criminals?” Imani finally spoke up, “Thank you, Scott.”
“Yes,” Al-Rajid nodded at me, “I think Scott here has the right idea. Why don’t we try and set aside our conflict and enjoy this delicious roast which Imani has prepared for us.”
“Well…” Imani admitted with a smile, “Technically, one of the chef’s from the marina did the work. I only provided the recipe.”
Audrey snorted as I loaded her plate. She scowled at me, “You’re okay with this? After what happened today?”
“I haven’t seen any sign that they’re responsible for anything,” I said, trying to soothe her, “Maybe it would do some good to hear them out and at least consider the benefit of the doubt.”
Audrey scoffed as I sat, having filled my own plate, “Who else could’ve done what was done?”
I sighed, “Dammit, I don’t know! But if they know about the U-2626 and Bull Shark, then its possible others do, too. Listening never hurts, Audrey.”
She relented, if only a little. She sighed and began to cut into her meat. I took a bite and found the loin to be both savory and tender.
“You like that?” Imani asked me, a smile on her face.
“Delish,” I said, “You have to share the recipe with me.”
“Ah, yes,” She said with a twinkle in her eyes, “Not just the brave and handsome man of action… but you’re something of a gourmet, it seems.”
Audrey frowned. I had to wish that Imani wouldn’t flirt so boldly in front of Audrey. It could only make things awkward. Before the blonde could snap out something unpleasant, I tried to smooth it over by jumping in first, “You seem to know a bit about me, Ms. Tariffa.”
“You do write about your adventures,” Imani said, “I’ve read all five of your books. I’m looking forward to another someday.”
“Bet we’ll be in the next one!” Brody said with a chuckle, “That is if the State Department or the CIA or NSA or somebody else doesn’t put a gag on you, Jarvis.”
I snorted derisively, “That’ll be the day.”
Surprisingly, the dinner talk remained pleasant for a good twenty minutes or so. Even Audrey seemed to warm up a little, asking pointed questions about Brody’s work, about Al-Rajid and even Imani’s oyster program. She even chatted amiably with McClay. That wasn’t so hard. The Irish captain seemed very good at putting people at ease and getting them to come out of their shell.
In fact, it was McClay who brought things to a head in his nearly irresistible good-natured way. As the plates were pushed forward, everyone having eaten their fill, he stood and refilled everyone’s wine glass.
Yes, dear reader, even I was drinking wine. Not much of a wine guy, yet on special occasions, even I, your humble scribbler, will dain to bend a principle.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” The captain said, hoisting his nearly full glass, “To friendship and cooperation. To burying the hatchet and working together for the common good. I know you don’t know me, Audrey… but Scott here does. For what it’s worth, Jack and Jibreel are good men. They’re looking for that German boat to prevent trouble, not start it. I think maybe it’s time we stopped seeing each other as adversaries and started working together toward our common end. Come on now! Bumpers all around! No heel taps everyone!”
Audrey actually smiled and tipped her nearly full glass back and drained it. I was put in mind of one of those formal dinners that the Royal navy used to put on two centuries before. Where Hornblower or Jack Aubrey or even Alan Lewrie would eat like kings and then drink nearly too slurring drunkenness at the beginning of the afternoon watch.
“Here, here!” Al-Rajid said, tapping his empty glass down on the table, “What do you say, Ms. Lambert? Will you give us the benefit of the doubt? Perhaps stay aboard this evening and see what we’re about, as Scott has agreed to do.”
“All right,” Audrey said, “It’s already nearly ten and with four oversized wines in me… its better not to drive anyway. I’ll accept your hospitality.”
“There ya’ go!” Brody said, “Hell, Joe, bumpers all around again, eh! No daylight! Let’s drink the health of King George!”
That got a laugh from the table. It looked like the tension had finally been cut, at least for the time being.
The good nature or at least lack of hostility didn’t last, though. Or at least, it didn’t last beyond the next phase of the evening. That being another tour of the ship for Audrey’s sake this time.
She was duly impressed. How could she not be? So after the tour, another glass or two of wine in the sky lounge and seemingly amicable good nights, everyone repaired to their cabins.
McClay of course occupied the captain’s quarters adjacent to the bridge. Brody, Al-Rajid and Imani had their dedicated cabins spread between the main deck and the lower deck. That left Audrey and I to figure out our sleeping arrangements. The two aftermost cabins were empty, and we were told to take any one that we liked, as they were both ready for guests and amply appointed.
Audrey chose the one in the port quarter. I walked her there and stood in the doorway for a moment, uncertain as to what to do next.
All throughout the evening, and even before that at her grandfather’s house after the shooting, she’d seemed to flip flop between anger and uneasy calm. The anger was clear enough and the calm periods seemed odd somehow. Her behavior seeming almost manic. Understandable considering the circumstances but still disconcerting.
She turned to me, “you seem unsure of yourself tonight, detective.”
I tried a weak smile, “I am, honestly. Not sure where I stand with you, to put my cards on the table.”
She eyed me from under partially closed lids for a long moment, “I’m not sure myself, Scott. All this is… well, it’s a lot to take.”
“Are you unsure about this situation…?” I tendered, “Or me?”
She sighed, “A little of both. I’m surprised that you’d give these people the benefit of the doubt.”
“I was hired to investigate,” I said flatly, “I’m literally doing exactly what you and Hank asked. I’m in the lion’s den, so to speak.”
“Yes…” She said, sitting on the bed and crossing her legs, “But are you doing it on our behalf… or that of your new friends here.”
I didn’t like where this was going and I said so, “Are you questioning my integrity, here? Or my loyalty or what?”
“You’re a hired man, Scott,” She said coldly, “And I suppose these people have more money than I can afford. Not to mention… other enticements.”
“Now just a goddamned minute,” I said, a bit of anger beginning to creep into my tone now, “You asked me to infiltrate this group. You and your grandfather suggested I do just what I’m doing… which was done against my will, might I add. I was Tasered and brought here, Audrey. And you knew all about them, didn
’t you? You certainly know or knew of Imani. You knew about Al-Rajid and you even knew that Brody and his people are looking for U-2626. So don’t you sit there and act like I’m the one who’s untrustworthy. Maybe if you’d told me all there is to know, we wouldn’t be in this situation now.”
“I told you what you needed to know,” She snapped, “I don’t’ work for you, Scott. You work for me, remember? If you find yourself in a sticky situation on that account, then that’s to be expected. You should know that, being the world famous private eye you are… or think you are. What? A little danger and mystery too much for you?”
I actually took a half step backward. This vitriolic woman wasn’t the Audrey I thought I knew. She wasn’t the tender, passionate and playful woman who’d come to my bed the night before. This woman was cold and hard and I didn’t like what I was seeing. Truth be told, I was starting to get a bad taste in my mouth.
“I do what I need to do,” I said, “and when I give my word, you can damned well count on it. It’s too bad I can’t say the same about you. Holding out on your investigator is never a good idea, Audrey. Bad things can happen. Like what almost happened this morning and what did happen this afternoon.”
“If you can’t play in the big leagues,” she almost sneered, “Then maybe you’d better quit the game.”
“You’re right,” I said, doing my best to ignore the surge of anger that swelled up inside me, “I certainly regret playing your game. Good night, Ms. Lambert.”
The last thing I heard as I swung her door closed and began to stalk up the corridor was a bitter and derisive laugh.
It was a little after midnight and Marina Jack was quiet. The restaurants had closed and the visitors had either gone to bed or gone off into Sarasota to seek other amusements. So I was relieved to find the outdoor lounging area abaft the bridge silent and empty. The night was cool but not unpleasantly so, having warmed up a bit since the previous evening.
