BLACK COBRA (Aaron Quinn thriller series, No. 2) (20 page)

“Port and Starboard motors slow forward,” Pankov said. “Open Kingston Valve Bow and Stern Group Ballast Tanks. Open Ventilation Valve Bow and Stern Group Ballast Tanks. Open Kingston Valve Middle Group Ballast Tanks. Open Ventilation Valve Middle Group Ballast Tanks. Extend Forward Dive Planes.”

“Depth one and a half meters, sir,” Jason said.

“Close Ventilation Valves,” Pankov said. “Maintain present depth. Down all masts.”

Navigating by periscope, Pankov sailed Cobra slowly away from the docks, arcing around the Midway Aircraft Carrier and out into the main channel of San Diego Bay.

“Depth below keel?” Pankov said.

Jason was relieved to finally see some water under them. “Nine meters, Captain.”

“Open Ventilation Valves,” Pankov said. “Dive to seven meters, 5 degree trim on bow, come left 15 degrees.”

His skeleton crew did as ordered and Cobra submerged for the first time in twenty years.

---

“I hope she holds up, Captain,” Uri Ruden said as they dropped below the surface. The creaking of corroded steel and the appearance of numerous small leaks made him wonder.

Pankov rested his hand fondly on one of Cobra's steel bulkheads. “She may be old, Uri, but she’s sturdy,” he assured him. “Jason, what is the sounding?"

“Five meters below keel, Captain."

"Increase speed to one-third. Come left 30 degrees and level off at periscope depth. Adjust fore-and-aft trim."

Pankov steered Cobra southeast toward the Coronado Bridge, where he instructed his crew to turn the sub 180 degrees, facing them north, toward the cruise ship
Neau Islander
.

“All stop!” he ordered.

---

“
Aaron?
" Katya asked, startled. "Am I imagining things, or is there more water in here than there used to be?”

Aaron saw that she was right. There was a sizable crack somewhere in the pressure hull, and seawater was flooding in. They had to get the hell out of the Forward Torpedo Room, and soon.

Chapter 55

Captain Zaane stood in
Neau Islander’s
wheelhouse checking his watch. 8:09 p.m.

“All right, gentlemen,” he said to his officers. “Let’s be underway.”

The First Officer gave the order.

---

PHOOOOOOOOOOT!

Even at that distance, and at periscope depth, Pankov could hear that Captain Zaane was preparing to sail. He checked his watch. 8:10 p.m.

Within a few minutes he heard the ship’s horn sound again.

PHOOOOOT! PHOOOOOT! PHOOOOOT!

The triple blast indicated that the huge cruise ship was backing away from the dock. Pankov put his eye to the periscope and waited until he spotted
Neau Islander
heading slowly out past the Midway Aircraft Carrier.

He checked his watch. 8:25 on the nose.
Very impressive, Captain Zaane
, he thought, smiling to himself.

A rush of adrenaline surged through him, a rush he hadn’t felt since the Cuban Missile Crisis back in 1962.
This
was where he was happiest, here surrounded by skilled officers, working together to achieve a common goal. This was where Captain Vtorak Borisovich Pankov of the Soviet Navy belonged.

“All ahead one-third,” he ordered.

Chapter 56

Pankov skillfully maneuvered Cobra beneath
Neau Islander’s
tremendous prop-wash. The turbulence shook the old submarine like a rubber duck in a Jacuzzi, as new leaks popped up all around him.

“Steady at periscope depth,” Pankov said as they followed Captain Zaane west toward the nuclear submarine base near the mouth of the harbor.

“There are shoaling waters to starboard, Captain,” Jason cautioned. “Be especially careful when nearing the southern tip of Shelter Island. Stay directly behind the cruise ship and keep us
off
the bottom.”

---

As they neared Ballast Point, Pankov spotted the bait barges through the scope, followed by the large security floats surrounding the nuclear submarine base.

He gave the order to slow, and the turbulence stopped as Zaane and his
Neau Islander
continued on out of the harbor and into the Pacific Ocean.

Maintaining periscope depth, and constant visual contact with the submarine base, Pankov slid Cobra under the long row of bait barges.

He checked his watch. 8:55 p.m.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “Prepare to fire.”

Chapter 57

Uri Ruden ran to the Forward Torpedo Room to prepare tube 5 for firing. He ducked through the watertight hatch and was alarmed when his feet splashed into a foot of rising water. He froze for a moment, knowing he should inform Pankov immediately.

Aaron saw his chance and leaped out from behind the torpedo rack, sinking the 3-inch blade of his pocket survival knife deep into Uri’s back. Uri lurched forward, blood spewing from his mouth, reaching desperately behind his back trying to identify the offending object.

The girls recoiled in horror and struggled against their bindings.

Aaron had hoped to pierce Uri’s heart but had hit a lung instead. He pulled the knife out with a stiff jerk and drove it deep again. This time blood gushed over the knife handle and Aaron knew the blade had hit home. He braced himself and gripped hard, pulling his knife free, as Uri splashed lifeless into the rising seawater.

Breathing hard and soaked to the skin, Aaron stepped back and wiped the blade on his thigh. The girls stared at him in disbelief.

He quickly folded the knife into his pocket and then scrabbled around underwater for Uri’s gun, whacking it on his thigh several times to remove any excess water.

“I’m taking us to the Captain's Cabin,” he said to the others. “We’ll be as safe there as anywhere until I figure out what the hell to do.”

Then, at last, to their infinite relief, he cut the girls loose.

Naval Base Point Loma

San Diego

Chapter 58

Commander Adam Byrd stood on the bridge of the nuclear submarine, USS
Hampton.
He checked his wristwatch. 8:50 p.m.

He waited as the massive cruise ship
Neau Islander
slowly cleared Ballast Point, and then, at precisely 9:00 p.m., he maneuvered his billion-dollar vessel, along with its priceless cargo, the President of the United States, carefully out into San Diego Bay.

Suddenly the boat’s chief sonar operator’s eyes went wide as something unexpected came into his headphones. For a second he thought it was a
submarine
.

“Sir, I think you need to hear this,” he said.

Byrd stepped over and put one of the phones to his ear, but as quickly as it had appeared, the strange sound was gone.

“Sorry, sir,” the operator said. “False alarm. Something must have come loose on one of the bait barges.”

“Stay on it, Chief,” Byrd said. “Considering who we have on board tonight, I’d rather have a hundred false alarms than no alarms at all.”

“Yes, sir,” the operator said.

---

Pankov watched through Cobra's attack periscope. “Where the hell’s Uri?” he said to Jason. “We’ll be ready to fire soon!”

Jason had spent years in the Navy perfecting his submarine warfare skills, and he didn’t need Uri’s help.

“We can do it without him, Captain,” he said. “The torpedo is armed and loaded in tube five. I just need to open the outer hatch, flood the tube, and prime the high pressure air system.”

“Make it happen,” Pankov said. “Go!”

---

Jason sprinted down the corridor to the Forward Torpedo Room leaving all of the hatches open behind him.

He was shocked to find Uri Ruden’s body floating in the rising water, and that Aaron and the girls were gone, but he quickly gathered himself and prepared tube 5 for firing. “Fire when ready, sir!” he shouted down the corridor.

Pankov checked the scope. The
Hampton
was dead ahead.

“
FIRE!
” he shouted back.

“Firing, sir!” Jason shouted back.

Jason pulled the chrome firing lever and there was a low shudder as a blast of compressed air forced the torpedo out of tube 5 just as the weapon’s self-propulsion system kicked on.

Pankov braced himself for a nuclear explosion and certain death, using a stop watch to count it down. Based upon the range, he was expecting the rocket propelled nuke
to impact the
Hampton
in under four seconds.

Three ...

Two ...

One ...

Nothing!

Pankov was horrified. Had they missed?

He waited a few more seconds, but he knew it was true: Through one evil stroke of incomprehensibly bad luck, the shot had been a colossal dud.

---

The USS
Hampton’s
chief sonar operator’s eyes went wide again. But before he could react, his eardrums were split by a huge metallic
BANG!
as the massive nuclear submarine was impacted by a heavy foreign object. The brutal hit shook the entire ship, knocking dozens of seamen off their feet and echoing on for several seconds.

“
All stop!
” Commander Byrd shouted from the bridge. He remained steady and calm, not wanting to cause a panic. He grabbed hold of the periscope’s training handles and took a quick scan around the area.

---

The President and his agents were off somewhere touring the sub and he wasn’t hooked up to his safety line yet. He grabbed hold of an overhead pipe to keep from hitting the deck, looking around nervously as his Secret Service team jumped into high alert.

---

Commander Byrd took his Executive Officer aside. “What the hell was that?” he said in a near whisper. “Did we
hit
something?”

“I think something hit
us
,” the XO replied. “And it struck our port side, Captain, from
inside
the bay. Perhaps it was a shark or a dolphin, sir.”

Byrd gave him a look that said,
Please tell me my XO’s not that stupid ..
.

“Damage report!”

“No damage to report, sir!” was the reply.

“The President?”

“The President is unharmed, sir!”

“Sonar! What
was
that?”

“I-I don’t know, Captain,” the operator replied, still shaking, his ears ringing. “It came out of nowhere. It sounded like — a
torpedo
.”

“If someone is firing at us they’re shooting blanks,” Byrd said.

 “By the sound of it, it had to weigh close to a ton, sir,” the operator said.

Byrd paused for a moment, looking at the sonar operator. “Let’s say it
was
a torpedo, Chief. Where would it have come from?”

“From under the bait barges, sir,” the operator said.

“Is there even enough
room
under there for a submarine?” Byrd asked.

“That's on the bay side of us, Captain,” the XO said, stepping in confidently. “Anyone hiding there would never have gotten past us in the first place.”

“You’re probably right, Commander,” Byrd said. “But, for the sake of argument, let’s say that they did. Could they hide something as big as submarine under the
bait barges?
”

“It’s highly unlikely, Captain,” the XO said. “An older diesel, maybe. But we haven’t seen one of those in these waters for several years. And we would certainly have detected them as they entered the bay.“

Byrd pictured the old Russian submarine, b-39, moored at the MMSD at the east end of the harbor, but he quickly filed the thought away with all of his other ridiculous ideas. It did, however, make him wonder: “What if it
was
a diesel-electric,” he said. “Our enemies are buying them up like they’re going out of style. I’ve heard the Iranians have
seventeen
of the damn things.”

“But don’t you think we would have
heard
them, Captain?” the XO said, stressing his earlier point.

“There’s no doubt that the U.S. Navy’s anti-submarine warfare capabilities are the best in the business, Commander,” Byrd said. “However, as you know, with variations in the underwater topography, ambient noise generated by marine life and merchant shipping, and changing salinity and temperatures, all of which alter how sounds propagate, it is still very difficult for us to combat diesel-electric submarines running silently on battery power. Hell, with all the other noise in the bay, it’s like trying to detect a single taxi cab in downtown
Manhattan
.”

Captain Byrd knew he had made his point, but he also knew how important it was to him and the rest of his crew that this VIP cruise come off without a hitch. His sub appeared to have sustained no significant damage, and the minute they returned to port he would have the exterior of the hull inspected to confirm. As for the enemy sub? He chose not to believe there ever was one. And he knew they needed to get moving again soon, if they were to have any chance of completing this all important drill.

He took his Executive Officer aside again, speaking in a low voice. “I think under the circumstances we should just file this incident in the ghost file.”

“I have to agree, Captain,” the XO said. “What else can we do, with the goddamn President on board and all?”

“Easy, Commander,” Byrd said. “He
is
our Commander-in-chief, don’t forget.”

“Sorry, Captain,” the XO said. “I guess the stress is taking its toll. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t, Commander,” Byrd said.

---

Suddenly the agent with the carnation appeared on the bridge, frantic for information. “What was that horrendous sound?” he demanded, looking at Commander Byrd as if he had been personally responsible. “I was with the President, and we were very close to the source. It was
deafening
.”

“Nothing unusual, Agent,” Byrd replied calmly, sharing Fagan’s disdain for Secret Service agents. “Just the hull shifting under pressure. It’s very common at sea. Nothing to worry about.”

The agent’s eyes narrowed.
That was pretty damn loud to be a hull shift,
he thought. But he knew he had no choice but to pass Captain Byrd’s explanation on to the President. He turned and headed off to give his report.