"Officer of the deck, we are at station precisely three hundred miles offshore of Venezuela. We have multiple surface contacts. Air search is negative at this time," a female operator called out.
As they watched, they saw the first officer for the first time. The man was of normal height, maybe six feet, one inch. His hair was blond and he was clean-shaven. His uniform was impeccably starched, and it wasn't a jumpsuit. His attire was tan, almost as if he were serving in the U.S. Navy. He didn't sit in the large command chair that sat upon a raised platform, but stood at its side with his arm resting on the pedestal above as he studied the hologram of Leviathanand its surrounding waters in a five-hundred-mile circle.
"Very well. Long-range sonar, what do we have off the Scottish coast?"
Niles turned to a brown-suited Senator Lee, somewhat jealous that he and Alice were accorded the comfort of civilian clothes. Lee even had his customary bowtie.
"They have a sonar suite that can operate that far?"
"I suspect we may be in for a lot of surprises, Niles, my boy," Lee answered.
"We are picking up the power plant noises of the HMS Monmouthand her sister frigate Somerset;one Type 45 destroyer, HMS Daring;and one Type 42, HMS Birmingham. Two other destroyers have yet to join the convoy. We also have the prop signatures of VLCS tankers-- Exxon Gale, Palace Guard, Texaco Sky, and the Shell Madrid. Propeller depth indicates fully loaded oil bunkers."
"Thank you. Weapons, give me a status report, please." The first officer bowed his head and closed his eyes as he listened to the reports.
"Torpedo tubes one through ten loaded with standard Mark eighty-nines. Standard war shot with delayed sonar activation; their computers are active in the tubes and tracking. Vertical tubes ten through fifteen are hot with type-forty Vengeance cruise missiles, and outer doors are ready at your discretion."
"Very well. Diving officer, make your depth three hundred; slow speed to five knots."
"Aye, chief of the boat, slow to five knots; make your attack depth three hundred."
The command was relayed to the helmsman and planesman sitting in airlinelike pilot seats. They wore strange-looking helmets that covered their entire heads as they watched their virtual-reality displays that were invisible to all others, followed their orders, and made their speed and depth adjustments. Leviathanstarted a climb toward the surface.
"Goddamn it, they're attacking two different convoys," Niles said, stepping forward.
Farbeaux quickly grabbed Niles by the arm and stayed him.
"Mr. Director, if they are forced to shoot you, a stray bullet may very well strike me, and that just would not do."
Niles closed his eyes and nodded, getting Farbeaux's meaning and intent. He was placing the others in jeopardy, and Henri pointed that fact out using his dry wit. Sarah nodded once in thanks, and Farbeaux looked at her intently.
"Officer of the deck, we are at station. IP is achieved."
"Thank you, helm. Weapons, you are free to launch forward tubes one through ten. Give me a full spread and let me know when the weapons have achieved station keeping."
"Aye." The weapons officer turned a key in his large console and then pushed the brightly illuminated buttons lining its top, one at a time, until they were all green.
Lee, Farbeaux, Virginia, and Lee all noticed that when it came to the launching of weapons, the crew of Leviathanused the old-fashioned, hands-on way, rather than trusting the holographic imagery technology.
"Tubes one through ten are empty, and torpedoes are free of the boat. All are traveling hot, straight, and normal." The weapons officer watched the large hologram in front of him. The small torpedoes (at least compared to the size of Leviathan)were seen traveling away from the red depiction of the submarine. "Weapons have stopped dead in the water and have gone to passive search. We have achieved station keeping for delayed-attack profile." The torpedoes floated in the water and were now arrayed like an open fan, just sitting there.
"Thank you, Mr. Hunter. You have permission to fire vertical tubes. You are weapons-free." The first officer lowered his head, brought his right hand to his chin, and waited. When the weapons officer reported all tubes and weapons were launched, the first officer chanced a look into the gallery fifty feet above the control center. He looked at each accusing face in the semidarkness above him, then just as quickly looked away.
They all watched the hologram at the center console as five missiles lifted away from her hull just forward of the conning tower. They traveled up and out of the water, which was represented by a soft green, wavy surface. Then, three hundred feet into the air, the five cruise missiles turned and headed east.
"Mr. Hunter, you have the conn. I'll be in my cabin."
"Aye, sir, I have the conn. Navigation, set your course to three-two-zero. Let's take her to the ice."
Niles took a deep breath and looked at the senator.
"Whoever they are, we just learned that they are entirely capable of doing what they threatened to do, and that means a very slow and very painful strangulation for the world."
The others turned and followed Niles out of the observation gallery, never knowing that eyes were on them from the deep recesses of the balcony overlooking both the gallery and the control center.
The captain of Leviathanstood motionless in the dark and watched the members of the Event Group slowly file out. Then the large eyes closed and the head lowered, and as it did, hair the color of the darkest pit of hell fell free and covered the captain's face and shoulders.
THE WHITE HOUSE,
WASHINGTON, D.C.
The president had excused himself from lunch with his wife and a visiting women's group from Kansas City so he could go to his office and check on the progression of the British and Venezuelan naval convoys. He had been absent from the lunch mentally, at any rate. He fielded questions from the ladies without actually hearing them, much to the dismay of the First Lady who had taken up the slack brilliantly. The news from the home front and overseas had been bleak all day. Riots in China over fuel shortages, fights breaking out at the largest fish markets in Japan over no fish, and even brawls at gas lines at home for the first time since 1978, and things were far worse than the public really knew. The United States' strategic reserve of oil and gas was down to 25 percent.
As the president entered the Oval Office, the national security advisor followed him quickly inside.
"If you're here this soon, this can't be good news," the president said, sitting heavily into his chair.
"I wish it were. Both the British and Venezuelan convoys were attacked almost simultaneously."
"Christ," the president mumbled.
"Admiral Fuqua and General Caulfield are on their way over to brief you fully. However, we do have some details. The Royal Navy was bloodied, Mr. President. Two frigates and two destroyers were lost, with only five survivors. The submarine HMS Trafalgarwas also sunk with all hands. The tankers were also struck and sunk. It's like they knew they were a red herring."
The president rubbed his forehead and then slammed his hand on the desktop. The plan to ambush the entity trying to kill their sea commerce included the bait of the four tankers. However, the president and British prime minister had made the decision that the danger of a massive oil spill in the oceans would have been far too costly a gamble, so the tankers had been filled with seawater.