CHAPTER 12
“Captain has the con.” came the announcement as Tom Roland entered the control center of the Sarasota.
“What’ve we got, Commander?”
“He must have changed course, Captain,” said the XO. “It’s a big ocean. It wouldn’t be hard to miss him.”
“Which way did he go? South America? Africa?”
“He knows somebody’s after him and he can’t have that much fuel, so he can’t stay out long. I’d say he would head toward home.”
“I’ll buy that. But if Aswadán is after him, he can’t be from there. So where’s he from?”
“They knew about him. According to the reports, the first ship he attacked was an Aswadán ship. So he must be from around that area. I’d shoot for Africa. His last course would have put him south of Dakar.”
“So you think we should go north?”
The XO shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Captain. It’s just a guess.”
“It’s as good a guess as any. Plot a course toward Dakar and lay it in. Let’s take her up to the surface. We gotta tell Mama.”
“Aye, captain.”
AUGUST 29TH –DAY 149
Matthew was still sore, but his shoulder no longer hindered his movements. He wished he could get out of the next meeting. The crew still had not reached a consensus on whether or not to use the name USS Washington instead of Bright Moon when they contacted other ships; or whether they should be contacting any other ships; or whether they should go back to the island; or whether they should do something else; Dave as usual, was the loudest. This time, though, some agreed with him.
The situation was getting out of hand, beginning to resemble a political campaign, each side trying to win the undecided over to his side. Matthew had to put a stop to it.
“Dave, why are you against this?”
“I already said. If we enlist the aid of the wrong ship, they may just blow us out of the water. I think we should go back to the island and lay low.”
“Impossible. I’m not sure we can find it. Besides, it’s most likely under surveillance.”
“We should take that chance. We should vote on it.”
Ron rolled his eyes. He’d made it well known that he didn’t want to go back to the island.
Su Li raised her hand and Matthew acknowledged her.
“I will stand by my husband. Whatever he decides, but, like all of you, I want to go home. Going back to the island is to give up hope of ever getting home, so I am against it.” That brought several nods.
Even Dave was stopped by that argument. “I don’t mean we should stay there. Just until things cool down a little. Then we can try again.”
“What do you think will happen the next time we try?” asked Jeff. “Do you think the authorities will suddenly change their minds and invite us home?”
“I’m just saying we should vote on it.”
“That’s enough,” said Matthew. “There’ll be no going back to the island.”
“It’s not up to you,” Dave shot back. “If we vote to go back to the island, then we go back to the island.”
“Go ahead and vote,” Matthew said in a quiet voice. “I refuse to take you back, and if you all vote for it, you’ll have to take the ship there without my help.”
“You don’t have the right!”
“I have every right. I’m a qualified ranking line officer in the United States Navy. The only other qualified person aboard this ship is Ron, and I outrank him, but I doubt that he’ll help you.” Ron grinned. “Besides us, there is no one else who can.”
“This isn’t the military, Matthew,” Dave hissed. “You’ve let this thing go to your head.”
“You are wrong, Mr. Bristol. It is my responsibility, under international law, to assume command and bring both the ship and its crew into port in the safest way that I know how. I intend to do that.”
Dave started to sputter. A few people were grinning widely.
“It’s done, Mr. Bristol. You can complain to the authorities when we get back home –if we get back home.”
There was a moment of strained silence as Dave glared at him.
Then Matthew brought everyone back to the real reason for the meeting. “What this meeting was supposed to be about, was whether or not we would call ourselves the USS Washington. Let’s–”
“Bridge to Captain,” called the PA. “We have an intermittent surface contact at ten thousand yards.”
“Intermittent?” repeated Jeff. “What could that be?”
“Maybe a low flying plane,” Matthew said. “They sometimes appear on surface to surface radar. Or–” He looked at Ron in horror. “Submarine!” they exclaimed as one, and raced for the door.
“General Quarters!” shouted Matthew.
Leila and Tim sat in his office and discussed the events of the last few days.
“The USS Washington and the Seaview collided on May twenty-second; two and a half weeks after the Evening Star sank. I can’t see a connection between them.” Leila checked her notes. “A Rear Admiral Jacob Roebuck is handling the investigation.”
“Have you talked with him?”
“No, not yet. He’s next on the agenda.”
Timothy Brandt threw his pen on the desk. “Why identify themselves as the USS Washington? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe it was just a cover to get some information.”
“Maybe –What about the crews of the ships?”
“The crews got off the ships before they exploded and sank.”
“Yeah, I remember.” He should have; he’d written the story. “And they’ve never been able to find the ships?”
“Only pieces. The ships were spread all over the ocean floor. The salvage team is having trouble pulling up anything worthwhile.”
“Then, they don’t know if it really was the USS Washington and the Seaview.”
“Tim. We’ve already interviewed the crews. They must have known what they were on.”
“True, but I remember thinking at the time how odd it was that both ships exploded. That would mean an almost perfect hit in a vital area on both of them. It seemed too much of a coincidence.”
“Maybe the one ship set off the other.”
“Possible. But we should be able to check that out by talking to the crew. They might remember if the ships went up at the same time or if one set off the other.”
“Okay. I’ll do that if I can find them. You think the explosions might have been staged?”
“I don’t know. I’m grasping at straws. It’s a cockamamie cover. The Evening Star sank over three months ago. Why not think of something more plausible –unless it’s true.”
He thought a moment. “And if it were true –man! What a can of worms that would be! Where did they get the ship? How did they learn to sail her? Why is the admiral so busy trying to get rid of her? Where does the Aswadán navy fit in? Who is her captain?”
“Matthew Carlsen?”
“Wow! Wouldn’t that be something?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to the captain of the Sea Princess again. In person, this time, and maybe to his old security officer. Other than that, I’ve gone into a stall, but I still don’t think we should do anything about this USS Washington claim until we have more to go on.”
“I agree. I’ll see what I can get from this Admiral Roebuck. Maybe he can tell me a little more about the USS Washington.”
Ron hit the bridge in record time with Matthew right behind him. Steve gave up his position at the con to Ron and ran to his post in the control room.
“Status.” Matthew went directly to the radar station. The contact was still there.
“Contact bearing one-six-five; course zero-one-zero; ten thousand yards; speed twelve knots,” reported Susan. She showed him the plot. He watched as it disappeared and reappeared a short time later. A plane could also show up on surface radar if it were flying low enough. Pilots sometimes did it to avoid surface
to air radar. On surface-to-surface radar, it appeared as a contact, which seemed to jump long distances on the surface of the water. A man who wasn’t alert might miss it or mistake it for a large wave.
“Too slow to be a plane,” Matthew observed.
“Submarine then,” said Ron, “and she’s on the surface.”
“Get Doris up here.”
“Captain,” reported Bailey, who was on sonar, “we have a ship bearing three-four-five; course zero-nine-zero; ten thousand yards; speed fifteen knots.”
Captain Roland looked at his XO. “What do you think? Is it him?”
Commander Chapel shrugged. “Got me, but if it is, and we dive now, he might pick us up. Sometimes a sub appears intermittent on surface radar, so they might miss us. Maybe we can hold the same course for a little while and keep our eyes on him.”
“We can’t count on that, you know. If he does pick us up, we’re sitting ducks. We can’t possibly dive fast enough to get away from him.”
“How’s a freighter gonna catch us? The only chance he’s got is if he has surface-to-surface missiles, and Command didn’t say anything about that.”
“Maybe Mama doesn’t know.”
“Hail them, Doris. Keep hailing until they answer.”
“This is USS Washington, Captain Matthew Carlsen, United States Navy commanding; serial number B-129557, to unidentified submarine. Please respond.” Doris repeated the hail.
“She’s hailing us, sir,” said the radioman, “and she knows we’re a submarine. She claims to be the USS Washington, Captain Matthew Carlsen commanding. Shall I reply, sir?”
“Negative,” answered Roland. “Our orders are to maintain radio silence.”
Chapel shook his head. “What? Who the hell is Matthew Carlsen? The USS Washington sank off the coast of Florida. I know her captain.”
“Mama said he was full of tricks. Before this, he claimed to carry survivors from the Evening Star. You know, the ship that sank about three months ago.”
“Three months ago… That’s about when the Washington went down.”
“Helm, take us down to periscope depth.”
“Aye, Captain,” responded the helmsman.
“They’ve gone off the scope,” reported Susan.
“Sonar?” Matthew looked at John.
“Nothing, Captain. Wait a minute! I got her!” He checked his readings. “Bearing one-seven-zero; course zero-one-zero; twelve thousand yards; speed twenty-two knots.”
“Picking up speed,” Ron said, “and he’s coming right at us.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Matthew said. “Course three-five-zero; ahead full. Keep hailing, Doris.”
“Course three-five-zero; ahead full,” the commands were repeated.
“This is USS Washington,” called Doris. “Captain Matthew Carlsen, United States Navy commanding; serial number B-129557 to unidentified submarine. Please respond.”
“She’s pulling away from us, sir,” Bailey called out. “Course three-five-zero; speed thirty-five knots.”
“Ahead, flank,” Commanded Roland. “Plot an intercept course.”
“Aye, Captain. Ahead, flank.”
“Thirty-five knots? A freighter?” Chapel looked at Roland. “No way.”
A few minutes later, Bailey reported. “Contact bearing one-eight-one; speed forty-five knots; range eighteen thousand yards.”
Tom Roland looked at his XO. “I think Mama has been misinformed.”
“Status,” ordered Matthew.
“Contact bearing one-six-five; speed twenty-five knots; range twenty-two thousand.”
“Can we lose him? What’s his top speed?”
“I don’t know,” Ron returned. “But we got a good jump on him. I doubt he can get her up to speed fast enough to catch us.”
“Contact speed is fifty-two knots,” Bailey called out. “Bearing three-five-five; range twenty thousand yards.”
“What the hell have we got?” Roland had never seen anything like this.
“Beats me.” The XO shook his head and then looked at the radioman. “Hey! Did you get the accent?”
“Sounded American to me, sir. A woman.”
“Contact lost, sir,” Bailey reported. “Last known heading, three-five-five, speed fifty-four knots.” No one said a word for a full fifteen seconds.
“I don’t believe it,” said Roland at last. “Fifty-four knots!”
“We have several ships capable of that speed, Captain,” stated the XO.
“How many do you know of that can do it in that short a time, Commander?”
“Only one,” Chapel replied, “The USS Washington. She was an experimental ship, designed as a sub chaser. Her captain told me she could outmaneuver anything he’d ever seen.” He paused for a moment. “But, I’m telling you; she went down while he was on leave.”
“On leave!” Captain Roland was surprised. “When his ship was at sea?”
“Yeah. He thought it was weird too. The whole crew was temporarily replaced. They wanted to see how quickly a new crew could master the ship. They were on the way to the Gulf of Mexico to take part in exercises, when she sank.” He saw the puzzled look Roland gave him. “I know. Screwy.”
“Contact lost, Captain,” said John. “Last bearing one-six-two; speed thirty-seven knots; range twenty-five thousand yards.”
“Think our sonar’s as good as theirs?” Matthew asked Ron.
“I would imagine so. There were a lot of simulation programs on the computer that involved submarines. This ship is a sub chaser, so she should have as good sonar, or better.”
“Come to course two-seven-zero. Maintain speed.”
“This ship hasn’t got any serious fighting capability. But she can maneuver circles around anything I’ve ever seen. That sub didn’t have a chance to catch us. She couldn’t get up to speed quick enough.”
“Can you get more out of her, Ron? A nuke can move pretty fast, and we might not be able to get away from one if they’re up to full speed.”
“I might get sixty knots out of her, but it isn’t the speed that wins it. If they’re already up to speed, we can outmaneuver them. If they’re not, we can get up to speed a lot quicker. They may be able to go faster, but by the time they get her up to speed, we’re gone.”
“Well, think about it. We might need it. Stand down from General Quarters. Doris, get Jeff up here.”
Matthew, Jeff, and Ron took a short walk out on the deck. “I was pretty tough on Dave,” admitted Matthew.
“He had it coming,” asserted Ron. “We got enough problems. We don’t need trouble on the ship too.”
“Is it true, what you said about international law?” Jeff asked.
“Yes. It applies to anything with a chain of command. If James Klein had survived, he would have been our captain, and I would be following his orders.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Ron interjected. “You outranked Klein in the Navy, and this is a military ship. You would still be the captain.”
Matthew waved his hand. “No matter. The point is that one of us would be following international law.”
“Why didn’t you say this before?” asked Jeff. “It might have solved a lot of arguments.”
“It wasn’t necessary. For the most part, we’ve agreed. But now we don’t. I wouldn’t have objected if it was just about the name we were going to use, but I’m not taking us back to the island. If we go there, we’ll never take the ship out again; we’ll all be too scared. We certainly don’t have enough fuel. We might as well give up on ever getting home.”
“I agree,” put in Ron. “You did the right thing. We fight back.”
“But we need everyone in agreement. You know that as well as I do. I’m effective as long as I have everyone’s support. We have to think of a way to get everyone back on track.”
Admiral Roebuck was getting ready to leave his office to talk to the captain of Sea Princess, when his secretary informed him of a telephone call from Leila Brandt of the Washington Post. He
decided to take the call. It was better to talk to reporters and get it over with, rather than put up with their constant harassment. He picked up his telephone.
“Roebuck here.”
“Rear Admiral Jacob Roebuck?”
Roebuck raised his eyebrows in surprise. She’d done her research, knew his first name and correct rank. That got her off on the right foot.
“This is Leila Brandt. Reporter for the Washington Post. My husband and I are covering the Bright Moon story. I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may.”
“I don’t have much time, Mrs. Brandt. I’m on my way out on official business. Besides, I don’t see how I can help you. You probably know more than we do at this point.”
“Actually, Admiral. I was wondering what you thought about the claim they made about being survivors of the Evening Star. Do you think there could be something to it?”
“It doesn’t seem likely at this point. Do you think there is something to it, Mrs. Brandt?”
“It is a thought. My husband and I are very curious as to why the captain of the Bright Moon would make such a claim.”
“So are we, Mrs. Brandt. That incident happened almost six months ago.”
Leila Brandt continued. “I also wondered what you thought of a freighter that could out maneuver an Aswadán military ship and disable her.”
“If you’ve talked with the captain of the Sea Princess, then you already know that the ship is probably not a freighter.”
“Yes, Admiral. Captain Birkestad did say that. He said that she attained a speed of over thirty-five knots very quickly. The captain of the Targa said he fought her off, but his ship doesn’t seem to have anything near the capacity of the Bright Moon. With that kind of speed and maneuverability, she could have sunk the Targa. Why didn’t she if she was the one that attacked first?”
“Interesting question, Mrs. Brandt. I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I don’t have much more time.”
“Just a couple more questions, Admiral. You’re heading the investigation of the collision of the USS Washington and the Seaview, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Roebuck sat straight up in his chair. Why was she interested in that?
“Would the USS Washington have been capable of that kind of speed, Admiral?”
“I’m sorry, but that is classified information.”
“Could you tell me the unclassified speed and capabilities?”
“She was capable of thirty-five plus knots, with excellent maneuvering capability.”
“Have you been able to determine the cause of the accident, Admiral?”
“Not yet. The explosions tore the ships apart. There isn’t much left.”
“Thank you, Admiral. I appreciate your time.”
Admiral Roebuck sat at his desk after Leila Brandt hung up. Why would she be interested in the USS Washington if they were covering the Bright Moon incident? Was there a connection? He reached for the intercom.
“Yes, Admiral?” his secretary’s voice answered.
“Get me Chin Lee Tong.”
Tim Brandt was talking to Captain Birkestad. “Captain, could you tell me if the captain of the Bright Moon gave his name?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brandt. I cannot tell you that.”
“It wouldn’t have been James Klein, would it, Captain?”
“It was not. I would have known. He and I were good friends. I would have recognized his voice, static or no static. He had a special accent.”
“Could it have been Matthew Carlsen?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brandt. I cannot say. I’ve never met the man.”
“You can’t say because you don’t know, or you can’t say because someone has told you not to?” Brandt watched the captain’s reactions carefully, but the captain kept his cool.
“Mr. Brandt, I really cannot say.”
“Admiral Roebuck is on the phone, sir.”
“Thank you, Rose.” Chin Lee Tong picked up his telephone.
“Yes, Jacob. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, sir, I may have something for you. I just received a phone call from Leila Brandt, a reporter on the Washington Post. She and her husband are doing research on the Bright Moon. She wondered what I thought about the fact that there might be survivors from the Evening Star aboard.”
“It is only natural, Jacob. The captain did make that claim.”
“That is true, but she was very curious as to why they didn’t sink the Targa, when they had the capability, and then she asked me if the USS Washington was capable of that kind of speed.”
“I see. What did you tell her?”
“I told her that the ship had an unclassified speed of thirty-five knots, and had excellent maneuvering capability. I wonder if they know something we don’t, sir.”
“That is quite possible, Jacob. I will call you back.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on my way to speak with the captain of the Sea Princess. I expect to be back in my office later this afternoon.”
“That is fine, Jacob. Good-bye.”
Later that day, Tim and Leila discussed what they had.
“Admiral Williams called again,” Tim informed his wife. “The Bright Moon has been sighted by the submarine, USS Sarasota about a thousand miles east of Florida. They were on the surface, so the Bright Moon got away before they could take the sub under.”
“How do they know it was the Bright Moon?”
“The captain of the USS Sarasota saw her.”
“They were close enough to see her, and she still got away?”
“Apparently, it takes a sub a while to dive and pick up speed. The Bright Moon was already quite a distance away from her. By the time they got the Sarasota under water and up to speed, the Bright Moon was out of range. Then she changed course and they lost her.”
“Do you believe Williams?”
“No. He’s too free with his information, and he’s still clinging to this beefed up freighter thing. He’s up to something. Oh, I believe the sub captain saw her, but the admiral isn’t telling us everything. The Sarasota is a modern submarine. I doubt there’s much that can outrun her.”
“Did you ask him her speed?”
“No, I don’t want to tip him off that we’re suspicious she isn’t a freighter. He already knows we have access to that information. No sense reminding him of it.”
“I think it’s interesting that no one’s claiming credit for the Bright Moon. We’ve heard nothing from them. They didn’t fire on the sub. They haven’t fired at anyone –except the Aswadán vessel. No grudge, no demands. They aren’t using typical terrorist methods. And no one has figured that out.”
“What about your interview with the captain of the Sea Princess?”
“I mentioned James Klein. And he emphatically said it couldn’t have been him, but when I named Matthew Carlsen, he just said he couldn’t say. He didn’t know the man. I’m sure he was muzzled. We’re onto something. I just know it, and Admiral Williams is involved in it right up to his eyebrows. What did you get from Admiral Roebuck?”
“Not a whole lot. He wasn’t especially helpful.”
“Not very cooperative, you mean. Admirals are a big pain in the –“
“No. I got the distinct impression he really didn’t know anything. The wreckage is spread all over the ocean floor so it’s almost impossible to put the events in any semblance of order.”
“What did he think of the possibility of real survivors?”
“He didn’t think it likely at this point. But he got real quiet when I mentioned the USS Washington and asked him what her top speed was.”
“What’d he tell you?”
“He told me that the top speed was classified, but that the unclassified speed was thirty-five plus knots, and she had excellent maneuvering capabilities.”
“That means she could probably do at least forty-five, maybe fifty knots,” Tim told her.
“There is some connection here, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but where?”
He began to write on his pad, talking as he wrote.
“Evening Star + Bright Moon + USS Washington = what? Something common to all three.” He sighed and shook his head. “We haven’t interviewed the crew of the USS Washington yet.”
“I’m having a hard time finding them. The ones on the Seaview have just disappeared. Those on the USS Washington have been given new assignments. They’re spread all over the place. It’s almost impossible to contact them.”
“But we have checked the passenger list of the Evening Star.”
“Yes, but not the crew. Just James Klein.”
Who could be more important than James Klein?
Leila shrugged. “Like you always tell me; check everything. The most important information is often found in the least important places.”
“Okay. Check the crew list.”
Birkestad had a small flat in Washington, which was very convenient for Roebuck. He could keep the conversation under wraps. “I’d just like to recap what you have told us, Captain,” Admiral Roebuck said. “We’re having a problem getting everything to fit. Officially, the Bright Moon is a freighter, built about five years ago. According to what you told Admiral Williams, the ship couldn’t possibly have been a freighter. Did you actually see her, Captain?”
“Yes, Admiral, I did,” confirmed Captain Birkestad. “If you had seen her turn and sail by our stern, you would have agreed that no freighter could have done it.”
“I understand that your security officer is appealing his dismissal. Is it possible one of the men had a gun?”
The captain sighed. “Admiral. I would swear that I saw no guns, but it was dark. Whether or not the men had guns is irrelevant. I dismissed Mr. Worrel because he discharged his weapon without giving proper warning.”
“I see. Do you think one of the men was hit?”
“Their captain claimed that one of them was. As my report said, he called us and told us that he was a Captain in the United States Navy and that we had shot an unarmed man. He repeated it several times, and then a woman repeated it until they were out of range.”
“There were two captains aboard the Evening Star.” Roebuck had done his own research. “Of course, the captain of the ship was James Klein. Could it have been him?”
“No. I would have recognized him immediately; I have known him for many years and he has a distinct dialect.”
“Then it had to be Matthew Carlsen,” said Roebuck.
“That is what I put in my report.”
“And you don’t know Captain Carlsen?”
“No, but Jimmy Klein used to talk about him; they were friends in the Navy. He said this Carlsen fellow won a medal in Vietnam.”
“That’s right. They saved a carrier from sinking. Several men on that ship won medals; Matthew Carlsen was one of them.”
Roebuck stood to leave. “Thank you for your time, Captain Birkestad. I’d appreciate it if you would continue to keep this confidential, especially this visit. There are reporters trying to dig up information, and if they know I’ve been here, they’ll be pestering you again.”
“No problem, Admiral.”
So, Captain Matthew Carlsen might be on the ship, thought Roebuck after he left Birkestad. He smiled, remembering his tours of duty with Carlsen. He and Carlsen didn’t get along because Carlsen didn’t act like an officer. He was too casual and associated too much with the enlisted men. At the time, Roebuck had felt that associating with enlisted men undermined an officer’s authority. More than once he and Carlsen had exchanged words over that very same subject.
It was Klein who had straightened him out.
“He’s not against you, Jacob,” Klein had said. “He’s just less serious about himself than you are.”
“He doesn’t do credit to the uniform. This is the United States Navy.”
“Come on, Jacob. It’s a job. And they’re people. Lighten up; don’t take yourself so seriously.”
That was a long time ago. Now, after all these years, Roebuck was an admiral, and James Klein had been right. It was only a job. And Carlsen had been right too, he realized. Matthew Carlsen, still a captain; that is, if he was still alive. If he was alive, and on the Bright Moon, he was fighting for his life. Roebuck was more convinced than ever that Admiral Williams was involved in something big. He had to prove it before Williams put the Bright Moon away.
AUGUST 30TH –DAY 150
They’d been on the Bright Moon for thirty-nine days. Dave still sulked after the events at the last meeting, but the incident with the submarine had shaken him up.
“That sub was waiting for us,” reported Ron. “They went into a dive the second they knew we were on to them. Every ship, except for the Aswadán ships, has refused to communicate with us as soon as they found out who we were. You heard what the radioman on that freighter said. ‘Do not, under any circumstances, communicate with us.’ They’re blocking us from telling our story.”
“One thing’s for sure,” said Will, one of the undecided. “It don’t matter what we call ourselves. We’re prob’ly fightin’ the whole United States Navy, maybe even the whole world.”
“See! I told you! We should go back to the island!” Dave insisted.
“Shaddap!” rebuked Will. “We ain’t goin’ back to no island. They’re prob’ly waitin’ there anyhow.”
Dave was going to answer, but Will gave him a scalding glare that stopped him.
Matthew ignored the fracas. “What’s our fuel status, Ron?”
“We have enough for three to four weeks at normal speeds. We’ll use up our fuel before the food and water give out.”
“Ideas people?” After what Will had said, Matthew wasn’t worried that anyone would suggest going back to the island.
Jeff raised his hand. “If we’re going to identify ourselves as the USS Washington, then we’d better get hot on finding some ships.”
“There was a woman listed on the crew,” Leila said. “We wrote a little about her, when the Evening Star went down. She and Matthew had the same connections, but hers were stronger.”
He considered that for a moment. “I can’t remember –Wait a minute, Asian.”
“Warmer,” his wife encouraged.
“Her father is the person who’s been talking to everyone before we get to them.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. He would be very interested in finding out if his daughter was one of the survivors, if there were any, especially if Admiral Williams is intent on sinking that ship before anyone gets a good look at her.”
“If we assume that’s right –and that’s a big assumption, then the ship has to be the USS Washington. And they’re flagging it, in the hopes that someone will pick it up.”
Leila shrugged and chewed on her pen.
Tim continued. “That brings up another question. What ship sank? How could they get a hold of the ship. And how could the admiral pull a switch like that?” He looked with skepticism at his wife.
“If you remember. The radioman on the freighter told us that they claimed to have found the ship, abandoned, and just commandeered her.”
“Come on. That’s just too fantastic to be true.”
“Maybe it’s too fantastic not to be true. Are you going to call him?”
He looked at her for a moment and reached for the phone. Then he took his hand from the receiver, “We’d better do it from someplace else.”
“Still scared of bugs? We got rid of the one in the office.”
“You never know. Bugs have a tendency to return.”
“Mr. Brandt from the Washington Post is on the telephone, sir,” said the secretary. “He says it is regarding the Bright Moon and the USS Washington.”
“We’ll take it, Rose,” said Tong as he looked at his brother-in-law. They had just been discussing whether they should involve Brandt. Now it looked like that decision had been made for them.
“Mr. Brandt?” He put the phone on speaker. “This is Chin Lee Tong.”
“Mr. Tong. I assume you have
been following the newspapers concerning the Bright Moon.”
“I have, Mr. Brandt.”
“Then you are aware of their claim to be survivors of the Evening Star. Mr. Tong, I have to ask: Have you thought of the possibility that they may be telling the truth?”
Brandt waited while Tong took a long moment to answer. “Is your telephone secure, Mr. Brandt?”
“I’m calling from a friend’s office, and my wife is listening in on another phone. We’re not too sure of the lines at the office, but this line is secure.”
“Very well. As far as survivors, yes, we have considered that possibility. Are those your thoughts, Mr. Brandt?”
“Yes, sir, they are. In fact, we think it is a strong possibility.”
“Mr. Brandt, are you working on a story?”
“I’m always working on a story, sir. But I have a personal interest in this. A mutual friend of ours was on that ship.”
“Yes, Mr. Brandt.” Tong waited.
Brandt looked at his wife and took a breath. He continued, “Mr. Tong, I have absolutely no proof of this, but there are too many things that point to it as a definite possibility. Did you know that the captain of the Bright Moon identified his ship as the USS Washington?”
“No, Mr. Brandt. I was not aware of that fact.”
“I don’t think anyone else was supposed to be aware of it either, sir. Not only that, but I am positive that he gave his name to the captain of the Sea Princess, but I can’t confirm it. Someone has shut him up, and the crew as well.”
“I see,” said Tong.
“Mr. Brandt. If this proves to be true and you print it, I want your word that you will not involve me or my family.”
“You have my word, Mr. Tong.”
“In addition, you must not call me from your office or home phone.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Then I can tell you that the captain of the Bright Moon did identify himself by name, rank, and serial number: Captain Matthew Carlsen of the United States Navy.”
Brandt looked at his wife. Wow!
“In addition, Mr. Brandt, I suggest you talk to Admiral Jacob Roebuck. You should be as free with your information with him as you have been with me. I understand you have had previous contact with him.”
Brandt smiled. Tong knew a lot of what went on in Washington.
“Before you call him, check out a ship called the USS Maryland at the Norfolk Naval Base. She was in –I believe the term is mothballs. I believe she was taken out about a year ago, used in training, and sunk. So reads the report anyway. It would be very interesting to compare her with the USS Washington; you think so?”
“Yes, Mr. Tong. I think so. Thank you.”
The line went dead. Leila nodded at her husband and stood to go. She didn’t have to ask what she would be investigating next.
Roebuck mulled over his conversation with the captain of the Sea Princess. The maneuverability and speed of the ‘terrorist’ ship bothered him. As far as he knew, no one had built a ship with those capabilities other than the USS Washington. What if it was?
Impossible, his common sense told him, but the thought stuck with him. What if the Bright Moon was a military vessel? Well, she had to be with the speed she attained, but what if she was the –impossible, he thought again.
The phone interrupted his thinking. Direct line again.
“Roebuck here,” he answered. It had to be Tong.
“Jacob. Mr. Brandt or his wife will be in contact with you. I believe you will find they have a very interesting theory and some additional information. It might be wise to cooperate with them. They may be of help.”
“Can they be trusted, sir?” Roebuck didn’t trust newspaper reporters. Most weren’t very discriminate about what they wrote.
“Yes, Jacob. I have dealt with Mr. Brandt before. He will be discreet if you ask him.”
“Very well, Mr. Tong.”
“Thank you, Jacob. Good-bye.”
Roebuck hung up.
“Contact bearing three-three-five, Captain, range eight thousand yards.”
“All stop,” ordered Roland. The submarine stopped; everything became still.
“Can you make her out, Bailey?”
“Sounds like the same signature, Captain. Headed on course zero-two-five at twelve knots. That’ll bring her about four thousand yards from us in seventeen minutes.”
“Take us up to periscope depth. Slow and easy. We got plenty of time. Flood torpedo bays.”
“There’s supposed to be another ship in this area,” the XO informed him.
“Acknowledged, Commander. We’ll just have to make sure it’s him before we pull the trigger.”
“I thought I had something on sonar, Captain,” said John. “But it disappeared.”
“Keep awake,” Matthew told him. “A sub can rig for silent running. That’ll make her tough to pick up.” John nodded.
“Contact,” Susan reported. “Bearing zero-one-two; range eight thousand five hundred; course one-zero-zero; speed fifteen knots.”
“Hail them, Communications,” commanded Matthew. “You know the routine.”
“Aye, Captain.” Cindy hailed the ship. “This is USS Washington, Captain Matthew Carlsen commanding, to unidentified vessel. Please respond.”
“Status,” asked Roland.
“Contact bearing two-five-seven; range five thousand yards. Course and speed unchanged: zero-two-five at twelve knots. It’s definitely them, sir.”
“Acknowledged. Ready torpedoes one and four. When she’s within four thousand yards, she’s ours.”
“Torpedoes one and four ready, Captain.”
“We have another contact, Captain,” said Bailey. “Bearing three-three-five; range six thousand yards; course one-zero-zero; speed fifteen knots.”
“They’re hailing the second contact, sir.”
Roland looked at his radioman. “What are they saying?”
“They’re identifying themselves as the USS Washington, sir, and requesting a reply.”
Roland shook his head. “Plot an intercept course between the two.”
“They’re going in opposite directions, sir. Unless he changes course and speed, he’ll never get any closer than he is now.”
“Let’s just watch and see what happens.”
Chapel looked at him with a questioning look.
“We have plenty of time, Commander. If he changes course we’ll intercept. I want to see what he’s doing.”
“Sir. Our orders are specific. We are to take him out.”
“You know we can’t involve a civilian vessel in this. We watch, for the time being. Put them on audio.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied communications.
“USS Washington, this is Shanghai. Over,” responded the freighter.
“Have you had contact with the Bright Moon? Over.” responded Cindy.
“Negative, Washington. Is she in this area? Over.”
“Affirmative, Shanghai. She is still claiming to have survivors from the Evening Star aboard her. She has been spotted south of you. Over.”
“What was her last course and location. Over.”
“Last course was course zero-two-five at twelve knots about eight thousand five hundred yards south of you.” Cindy told him, smiling. She wondered what he’d be thinking when he heard that.
“Come to course three-two-five; speed twenty-five knots,” ordered Matthew. He was smiling, too.
“Bright Moon changing course sir,” reported Bailey. “New course three-two-five; speed increased to twenty knots. She’s leaving the area, sir.”
“What the –?” Roland sputtered. He and Chapel looked at each other, mouths agape. They couldn’t fire a torpedo with another ship in the vicinity. Besides the Bright Moon was pulling away.
“Speed twenty-five knots,” was the report a short time later. Having seen the Bright Moon in action before, they weren’t surprised.
“Calculate an intercept course based on her course an
d speed and lay it in,” ordered Roland.
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Sonar contact, Captain.” Matthew stopped smiling. “Bearing zero-seven-six; range six thousand yards; depth sixty-five feet.”
That was around torpedo depth. “Increase speed to flank.”
“Contact increasing speed, sir,” reported Bailey a few minutes later. “Forty knots.”
“They saw us,” Chapel said.
“Damn! They’ll change course, once they’re out of range.”
“What the hell are they doing, Tom?” Chapel asked later when they were alone in the Captain’s quarters.
“Got me. She contacts a ship, identifies herself as the USS Washington, then just leaves. Why didn’t they attack? She’s supposed to have attacked three ships already.”
“Scare tactics? Maybe they’re trying to make everybody nervous at home.”
“Maybe.” Roland was sure they would meet the ship again. “What about this Captain Carlsen guy? You know anything about him?”
Chapel shook his head. “Never heard of him.”
AUGUST 31TH –DAY 151
“Well, faithful companion,” said Brandt. “What have we found?”
“WE,” Leila emphasized, “have found that the USS Maryland was sister ship to the USS Washington, except that the USS Washington was rebuilt with all the state of the art equipment and re-commissioned, while the USS Maryland was sunk about a year ago in a training exercise.”
“Accident?”
“No, she was towed out to sea and used as target practice by other ships. They train new crews and test out their new toys that way.”
“So, the Maryland was rebuilt instead and renamed the Bright Moon.”
“Tim, the USS Maryland wasn’t capable of that kind of speed. She’d been in mothballs for years. It would have taken too long to rebuild her and cost too much. Someone would have found out about it. The Bright Moon is the USS Washington. It was the USS Maryland that sank.”
“Where’d you get all that?”
“Deduction, my dear Watson. Captain Matthew Carlsen, of the Bright Moon claims that she is the USS Washington. Ergo, she must be the USS Washington. He should know.”
“And somehow he got hold of the ship after surviving the wreck of the Evening Star. And Admiral Williams is trying to get rid of him before he brings the ship in.” He looked at his wife. “It still sounds too fantastic to be true. What’s the story? What’s Admiral Williams’ part in this?” Leila shrugged and shook her head.
Tim pondered this new information. “You remember that guy, the one who’s been involved with Admiral Williams?”
“Randolph Johnson? Yeah, I remember. I thought we were going to pin that Contra affair on him along with Williams, but they both wriggled out of it.”
“Maybe we should check him out.”
“Good idea. What about this Chin Lee Tong guy. He’s well known in political circles, but I hardly ever hear people talk about him except in low tones, almost as though they’re telling secrets. Maybe we should check him out too.”
“I did some research on him some years ago when I got back to the states. Before I met you.”
“Oh, yeah? You mean back when you were lonely and boring.”
Brandt chuckled. “Yeah. Even then the man was very influential, but I never found anyone who knew what he did. I’ve never seen him get involved in US affairs, that is, until now. I met him because of a job Matthew was doing for him. Matthew needed someone he could trust to get in touch with Tong for him. I ended up with a pretty good story out of it.”
“I’ve heard he has high principles. But I don’t believe it. He’s got too much money. People don’t get that kind of money and influence without stepping on someone’s toes or breaking some laws.”
Brandt laughed. “You’re even more suspicious than I am. I saw that so-called honor when I was a war correspondent in Vietnam. I tried to dig up everything I could about Mr. Chin Lee Tong.”
“Did you find anything?”
“I traced his history all the way back to Hong Kong. That’s where Matthew first met him. From there, I traced it back to China. Tong was from a wealthy family that got out of China around the time of the Cultural Revolution.
“I couldn’t find anything bad. In fact, just the opposite. I’d never believed anyone could be as clean as this guy, but he really is clean. Somebody told me that he had royal blood. They said he could trace his ancestry back to some of the emperors of China. I interviewed him one time and asked him about it. He said it was just rumor.”
“A real modest type, huh. But he’s full of money. Where do you think he got it?”
“He’s ok. Really, I checked. The guy came from a rich family. He used his wealth to work with the underground, trying to get political dissidents out of China. I talked to several people who claim to owe him their lives. A lot of them work for him.
“When Mao’s people found him, they tried to take him out. Him and his brother-in-law Tsien. That’s where Matthew got involved. He got Tong out of Hong Kong and into the US. Since then, they’ve had this father-son kind of relationship. That was about twenty-five years ago.”
“Did Matthew corroborate this?”
He nodded. “Matthew told me the whole story, exactly as Tong did, and both asked me not to print that part; so I didn’t.”
“Don’t you think it’s kind of funny that they both could be on the same ship?”
“Huh? Who?”
“Matthew and Tong’s daughter.”
“So what?”
“Well, it does give Tong two good reasons to check out the ship. I mean if he has this kind of relationship with Matthew...”
“What are you getting at?”
“She’s his only child, isn’t she?”
“Yeah?”
“I thought Chinese put a lot of stock in having sons. They don’t have too much appreciation for daughters.”
“In Chinese culture a daughter is trained in the household. When she gets married, she becomes a member of her husband’s family and her original family loses all the benefits of the skills they’ve invested in her. Even if her husband dies, she remains a member of his family. That’s why the Chinese prefer sons, especially the poor. It’s another mouth to feed with no return on the investment. It’s lost the day she gets married.”
“But it might explain this father-son relationship you’re talking about. Matthew is the son he never had.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I was just thinking. What if she and Matthew were to get together? Tong would have his bread buttered on both sides: a son and a daughter.”
Tim laughed. “This is woman stuff! It’s got nothing to do with what we’re talking about. Besides, I met Tong’s wife once, and if his daughter is anything like her, she’s not Matthew’s type.”
“Why not?”
“Look Leila, we’re not writing a romance novel here. Let’s stick to the subject.”
“Oh, all right. What about Tsien?”
“He’s even more obscure than Tong. No one knows anything about him. He’s invisible, but he is always there –you know, like the backstage man in a play. He keeps the production going, but no one ever notices him. I never found anything about him before Hong Kong other than that he lived in Beijing where Tong lived.”
“That means he’s probably got a lot more to do with whatever Tong is involved in than is obvious.”
“My thoughts exactly. But I never found anything. I asked Tong about him once. All I got was this ‘close friend and relative’ story, but he had a smile on his lips that said ‘There’s a lot more, but I’m not going to tell you.’”
“Did you ask Matthew?”
“Yep, and Matthew said just as much, or rather, just as little, but I think he knew more than he was telling, too.”
“What’s this got to do with the politicians? They all know Tong.”
“No one knows him. Some are brave enough –or foolish e
nough to deal with him on occasion. They think they can use him to get information. He knows just about everything about everything. But people who deal with him don’t want to have any skeletons in their closets. He seems to have an intense dislike for corruption. The Chinese government hates him, but they respect him. Even the Chinese ambassador respects him. And nobody wants to mess with him. I’ve often wondered if he isn’t involved somehow with the CIA.”
“Hmm… And now he’s involved in this. Interesting.”
“Look,” Matthew said to Ron and Jeff, “I’m getting real nervous about this sub. The last time he was only six thousand yards from us before we picked him up. He can just sit there until we run right into him. I wonder if one of us should man the bridge at all times during the day.”
“He can still find us at night.”
“I know, but if we don’t get any decent sleep, we won’t be able to function. Besides, he’s found us every time we’ve made contact with another ship. Maybe he’s picking up our transmissions. Regardless, one of us should be on the bridge at all times during the day and maybe pull some night duty.
SEPTEMBER 1ST –DAY 152
Roebuck answered his telephone. “Hello, Mrs. Brandt.”
“Hello, Admiral Roebuck. Mr. Tong said you would be expecting my call.”
“Yes. I believe we have some common objectives.”
Interesting way of putting it. “Yes, Admiral. I guess you could say that. One of them is the identity of the Bright Moon. Are you aware that the Bright Moon identified herself to the freighter Light Truck as the USS Washington?”
“No.” She heard the surprise in his voice. There was silence for a moment before Roebuck continued.. “Mrs. Brandt, I need your discretion here.”
“You have it, Admiral.”
“I received the report from Admiral Williams. As far as the report states, the ship identified herself as the Bright Moon and tried to overtake the Light Truck, but she was warned away when the Light Truck radioed the authorities and they promised immediate support.”
“According to my information, Admiral. The Bright Moon never got closer to the Light Truck than ten thousand yards and was going in the opposite direction. I wouldn’t call that trying to overtake her.”
“No. I wouldn’t either. What exactly do you have, Mrs. Brandt?”
“Not much more than you have, I’m afraid.” Leila brought him up to date with what she and Tim had gathered.
“Do you have proof for any of this?”
“Not a shred. Just suspicions. Except for the registry of the Bright Moon, which indicates that she is more than she claims to be. But why identify herself as the USS Washington? Why should the captain identify himself as Matthew Carlsen by name, rank, and serial number? And why haven’t they attacked any other ship? The only one we’re positive of is the Aswadán ship, and we don’t know who attacked whom in that department.”
She didn’t ask him the last question. Why was the Navy so interested in getting rid of the Bright Moon or whatever she was called before anyone found out?
“What can you help me with, Admiral?”
“I’m afraid I have no more than you do at present, and even less proof than you”
“One more thing, Admiral. What can you tell me about Randolph Johnson?”
SEPTEMBER 2ND –DAY 153
Johnson sat staring at the papers cluttering his mahogany desk.
“Our Captain Carlsen is becoming a nuisance,” said Admiral Williams. “He has contacted a number of ships, and identified himself and the ship as the USS Washington. He apparently hopes that someone will notice it.”
Johnson already knew this, so why was Williams here?
“I know you are aware of this, Mr. Johnson. Are you aware that Timothy Brandt and his wife have been checking out the USS Maryland?”
Johnson took a deep breath. He knew Brandt and his wife. They had an uncanny ability to dig up information. He didn’t know how they did it.
“Have they got anything?”
“They’re just fishing. But they know the USS Maryland was taken out in a training session and sunk a year ago. And they know the Bright Moon isn’t a freighter. I’m not sure that’s going to help them, but the fact that they could dig that up at all gives us an indication of how much they suspect.”
“How did they find out about it?”
“They’ve been calling around some of the bases and asking questions. It’s not classified. I hope you’ve covered your tracks.”
“Contact bearing one-seven-six; range two thousand yards,” reported Jeff. “Depth, thirty-five feet. Submarine, Captain.”
“Plot it in,” ordered Matthew. Jeff did so, and the computer told him the truth.
“It’s a whale.”
They were working hard on detecting submarines using the simulation program. It was difficult to pick up a sub in silent running, and they seldom got it right. Picking up torpedoes was no problem. Avoiding them was.
They had no countermeasures against torpedoes, at least none they knew of. Matthew and Ron checked the inventory of weapons the ship was carrying. If there were countermeasures on the ship, they couldn’t find them. They drilled as though they had them anyway. Maybe they could come up with something.
“I don’t know what to do if we have to avoid a torpedo,” Ron said later when they were alone in the captain’s quarters. “Maybe we can shoot at it with the rocket launcher.”
“I doubt that would work. They aren’t powerful enough to take out a torpedo unless you get close enough to it. You’d have to hit the damn thing dead center. We’re not that good.”
“The noise or concussion might be enough to throw off its guidance system until we maneuver out of the way,” suggested Ron.
“I don’t know. But it’s probably a good idea to get a couple on deck and ready, just in case. We could put a man with one at the bow and one at the stern.”
“We need to sharpen our maneuvering skills. It’s one thing to maneuver the ship at slow speeds like we’ve been doing, but we don’t have the experience to make sharp turns at higher speeds. We’re going to have to, if we want to outmaneuver a torpedo.”
Matthew looked at him seriously. “Can we outmaneuver a torpedo?”
“I have no idea. But no one ever told me it couldn’t be done. If this ship is a sub chaser, maybe they’ve considered that. We’ve got nothing to lose.”
“What about our speed? Have you been able to do anything with that?”
“I might be able to increase speed by about eight knots. But I doubt that will outrun a torpedo.”
“Will it outrun the sub?”
Ron nodded. “Probably.”
“Damn! If we only had countermeasures. We’d at least have a chance.”
“Maybe we do. If we knew what they looked like.”
Matthew was silent for a while. “I’m pretty sure that sub is coming back. We’ll have to keep drilling, but we have to limit the drills to an hour or less. I don’t feel like having him show up in our back yard during playtime, and I guess we’ll just have to start teaching a couple of the men how to use the rocket launcher.”
“Maybe we should check the weapons arsenal again. We might have missed something.”
“Yeah. Maybe we’ll find a Romulan cloaking device.”
“It’s getting more difficult to hold Admiral Williams back, Mr. Tong,” said the President, “and frankly, I’m getting concerned, too.”
“I only ask you to wait a little while longer, Mr. President.”
“I wish I could do that, Mr. Tong. No one has been hurt yet, but the Bright Moon has contacted several ships in the last few days. The admiral is afraid that they will fire upon a civilian ship, and so am I, Mr. Tong. If she does, it could create an international incident that could severely damage foreign relations. I hate to agree with him, but we have to do something. The admiral is coming tomorrow for a meeting. Until now, he’s had authority to use one submarine to try to catch the Bright Moon, but that has been u
nsuccessful so far. He will be asking for more ships.”
“Has the captain of the Bright Moon revealed his identity, Mr. President?”
“No. He’s just identified the Bright Moon as carrying survivors from the Evening Star.”
“I have three people that know that the captain has identified not only himself, Mr. President. But also that he identified the ship as the USS Washington, not the Bright Moon, as you have been informed.”
“Oh?” The President answered flatly. “And who are these people?”
“Timothy Brandt and his wife, both reporters for the Washington Post, and Admiral Jacob Roebuck. This information has come directly from people who have been contacted by the Bright Moon. Admiral Williams has told them not to reveal this information. I believe he used the term ‘national security’, Mr. President.”
“What?” The President was aghast. “He hasn’t informed me of this.”
“I’m sure he hasn’t. And I have reason to believe the Bright Moon is the USS Washington, which reportedly sank in a mishap off the Florida coast about three months ago.”
The President was dumbfounded.
“Mr. President. Some time ago you asked me if I had any theories about this situation. At the time, I did not feel it was proper to reveal them to you, since they were without foundation. I would like to now, if I may be permitted.”
“What if we try to call someone back home?” asked Roberta at their brainstorming meeting.
“Who would believe us?” grumbled Dave.
“We could try,” insisted Roberta.
“I’m afraid they could pinpoint us through the call,” countered Matthew. “Then they’d nail us for sure.”
“Not if we hack our way in,” said Ron. “My wife’s a communications specialist, and John’s a computer specialist. Between the two of them, we should be able to intercept a satellite and get in touch with whoever we want.”
“I’m not sure that could be done,” said Matthew. “I could get you the line, but I don’t know how to breach the security.”
“I know how,” said John. “A lot of the kids did it when I was in school. That’s how we got free telephone calls. One kid even hacked his way into the NORAD system.”
“What does it take?”
“You just have to convince the system that you’re a legitimate user. All programmers leave a back door in their systems so they can get in if something goes wrong. If you can figure out the back door they used, you’re in. But if you get caught, they’ll trace right back to your line. In our case, they’d get us through the satellite link. If that happens, it’ll follow us around the whole ocean. We’ll never get rid of it unless we do total shut down.”
“I’m against it,” Dave spoke out. “If a satellite picks us up, we’re dead meat.”
“I’m not saying the satellite will pick us up. If we route through four or five satellites then it’ll be harder for them to trace back, and we can monitor the trace.”
“I agree with Dave,” said Matthew. “We have enough problems avoiding that sub already without helping them out.”
When Tong finished speaking, the President was stunned. This couldn’t be for real, but he believed Admiral Williams was capable of something like this, as outlandish as it seemed. All the evidence pointed toward it. The Bright Moon identifying herself as a ship that had sunk around the Florida peninsula; the captain identifying himself as a navy captain; and the claim that they were survivors of the Evening Star –all so farfetched that it must be true. Especially when Aswadán was involved.
“I believe it, Mr. Tong. Maybe I should ask Congress to start a full scale investigation into Williams’ activities.”
“I would not recommend that, Mr. President. If he knows that you are aware of his activities, he will step up attempts to cover up and sink the Bright Moon. If he is successful in sinking her, every bit of evidence we have will be worthless, and he will go free.”
“You’re right. It would be better to wait.”
“Maybe the admiral will make a mistake. Is it possible for you to give Admiral Roebuck the authority to arrest him if we get enough evidence?”
The President wasn’t sure. “I think so, Mr. Tong, but I’ll check my authority under military law. I think we have to get the authority from the Judge Advocate General. He would then assign a commissioned officer with the Judge Advocate General’s office who could perform the arrest and hold the admiral incognito until the issue is solved. Then the ranking admiral, in this case Admiral Roebuck, would give the order to call off the submarine. Until then, legally, we can do nothing.”
“Then I will have to ask for your discretion one more time, Mr. President. Please do not indicate to Admiral Williams any knowledge of these facts, and do not permit him to put any other ships on this assignment.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it, Mr. Tong.”
SEPTEMBER 3RD –DAY 154; BRIGHT MOON DAY 43
“Contact Captain,” reported Bailey. “Bearing zero-one-six; range fifteen thousand yards; course one-nine-six; speed forty-five knots. She’s coming right at us, sir.”
“All stop,” ordered Roland. “Come up to periscope depth, slowly, gentlemen. We do this right, we got him this time.”
They waited.
“Status,” ordered Matthew.
“No contacts,” said Jeff on sonar.
“No contacts,” said Marie on radar.
“Course one-nine-six; speed thirty-five knots,” reported Su Li on navigation.
Fifteen minutes before, they had made contact with another ship. As always, they were at GQ during these contacts. Matthew sat in the captain’s chair and gazed out the windows of the bridge.
Every time they billed themselves as the USS Washington, they got a good conversation going. It was apparent that no ships had been warned about that. Maybe the guy in charge didn’t want to blow his cover. Admitting that the Bright Moon was billing herself as the USS Washington might make others suspicious. If that was the case, then maybe what Ron had said when they first found the ship was right. Maybe the corruption reached a lot higher than Matthew had figured. Maybe right up to the top.
Good Lord, he thought. What have we got ourselves into? He decided to drop their speed to twelve knots. No sense wasting fuel.
“Drop speed to twe–”
“Torpedo!” shouted Jeff. “Bearing one-two-eight; one thousand eight hundred yards!”
“Where’s the sub?” shouted Matthew. “Where’s the sub?”
Jeff listened. “I don’t know!”
“Hard to port! All ahead full. New course one-two-eight.”
He waited as the commands were repeated. The ship picked up speed.
“Think we’ll make it?” Ron looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
“They’ve turned in on us, sir,” reported Bailey. “Speed increased to fifty-five knots; range fifteen hundred yards; torpedo contact in eleven hundred yards.”
“He’s trying to outrun the damned thing, before it arms!” exclaimed Chapel.
“He can’t possibly make it,” said Roland.
“Status!” Matthew commanded.
“Torpedo is eleven hundred yards,” replied Jeff. “I got the sub! She’s fifteen hundred yards; same bearing.”
“It’s gonna be close,” said Ron. “That torpedo will arm when it’s a thousand yards away from the sub. If it gets there before we do…”
Range twelve hundred yards, torpedo contact in three hundred yards, sir.” reported radar. “Speed is sixty-knots. He’s still coming right at us, sir!”
“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed Chapel. “He’s gonna make it!”
“Emergency dive!” shouted Roland. “Emergency dive! Hard to port!”
“Three hundred; two hundred; one hundred–” To protect a submarine from damage, a torpedo was programmed to arm itself only after it had traveled a thousand yards. It’s construction materials weren’t made to damage a ship. That’s what the explosion was suppos
ed to do. But the Bright Moon got to the torpedo while it was still nine hundred yards away from the Sarasota, and the worst it could do was destroy itself against the hull of the Bright Moon. Nevertheless, it hit hard enough that it reverberated throughout the ship.
“Damage report!” commanded Matthew. While he waited for the report, he shouted. “Where’s that sub?”
“Bearing one-nine-six; range eight hundred yards,” reported Jeff. “It’s diving; depth twenty-five feet. We’re heading right at it. It’s changing course to our starboard.”
“No damage, Captain,” came the report.
“Come to port five degrees. Careful, we’re moving pretty fast. Hold present speed. Hail them, Doris. You know the routine. Tell them–”
“They’re going by on our starboard side, sir,” reported Bailey. “Speed sixty-two knots.”
“They’re hailing us, sir,” said the radioman. “Same as before: Captain Matthew Carlsen of the USS Washington. Uh… They wished us a good day, sir.”
Chapel looked at Roland. “
“I think we’d better call Mama,” said Roland.
“Damn!” shouted Matthew, glaring at Jeff. “We almost bought it that time!” Jeff hung his head and Marie looked angrily at Matthew. Ron looked out the window and Su Li just looked at him. Matthew shook his head and left the bridge.
“Take her down to twenty knots,” said Ron, taking command. Jeff looked crushed. “It’s not your fault, Jeff. You did the best you could. He didn’t mean it. He’s just having a case of nerves. He’ll get over it.”
Jeff nodded, but he had missed the sub.
“We need to put a couple more ships on the Bright Moon, Mr. President,” said Admiral Williams. “She has a crafty captain. The USS Sarasota fired a torpedo at him, and he was able to avoid it. She is becoming dangerous.”
“I’m sorry, Admiral. We have yet to see anything which proves she has destructive intent. She has yet to fire upon anyone.”
“If I may respectfully remind you, Mr. President. She did fire upon an Aswadán vessel. We’ve seen the damage.”
The President laughed. “Aswadán. It wouldn’t surprise me if they didn’t attack the Bright Moon first. I’m not going to use taxpayers’ dollars to chase a ship around the ocean that might have fired upon an Aswadán military vessel in self-defense. And I’m certainly not going to involve the United States of America in Aswadán affairs. I don’t even like the fact that you have the USS Sarasota on this mission.”
“There have been civilian ships involved, sir. And there have been a number of attacks on unarmed civilian vessels.”
And you’re beginning to get a little hot. “I don’t call hailing a civilian ship, attacking it, Admiral. When she fires on one, then I’ll begin to be concerned.”
“It may be too late then.” The admiral didn’t hide his anger.
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes, Admiral. You may go.”
The admiral left. He didn’t even bother to show the usual respect when leaving the Commander in Chief of the United States Armed Forces.
The President remained seated as Williams walked out the door. What was the admiral up to?
Williams seethed. He always had a hard time with the President, but this seemed way out of proportion. It was almost as if he knew something. Impossible. Williams screened all the information the President received. There was no way, unless someone else was talking to him.
Roebuck? No, he couldn’t believe it. Not Roebuck. But even a blind squirrel could stumble on a nut. Maybe he shouldn’t take any chances.
“I’m sorry, Jeff,” said Matthew at the meeting that day, “what I said was uncalled for. We don’t have the experience. We probably wouldn’t have picked him up if even we had the experience.”
“I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” It was clear Jeff took it hard. “I’ll get the bastard the next time.”
“Well, don’t be surprised if you don’t. They have a lot more experience than we do. And they probably have better equipment.” He looked at Jeff. “I’m really sorry, Jeff.”
Jeff smiled a little. “Forget it. You were freaked out. So were the rest of us.”
“One thing’s for sure,” Matthew addressed the others, “it’s not going to get any easier to avoid that sub. I don’t know how he keeps finding us, but it’s obvious that we can’t get rid of him. What’s our fuel status?”
“Fuel status is around twenty percent,” said Ron. “Around two weeks plus or minus. The submarine eats away at it, so it’ll probably be less, unless we can find a way to get rid of him.”
“I don’t see how we can,” put in Jeff. “He seems to be able to find us no matter what we do. If we change course one way, he figures it out. Another direction and he figures that out too. I don’t know how he does it. Are we following some kind of pattern we don’t know about?”
“We’re callin’ ships and runnin’,” said Will. “Maybe he’s figured it out and sits in a shippin’ lane waitin’ for us.”
“Then we’re stuck,” said Jeff. “We don’t call any ships, he doesn’t find us, but we never get home either.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if that satellite idea might be the only way out,” said Matthew.
“I agree.” Dave had been on the bow when the Bright Moon collided with the torpedo. He’d thought it was all over. “We can’t beat him,” he continued, “and we can’t get rid of him, but maybe we can get around him.”
Matthew waited for someone to add to Dave’s comments, but no one spoke.
“Then we do it. Doris and John, work on it and report back as soon as you figure it out. I’ll give some thoughts as to who to contact.”
SEPTEMBER 4TH –DAY 155; BRIGHT MOON DAY 44
I know it’s a little early, Admiral Roebuck,” Leila said, “but we’re working another angle.” She was calling from a restaurant where she and Tim Brandt did a lot of their work.
“We’ve been doing a little research on Randolph Johnson,” she continued, “but he is a very low key person. We know very little about him and don’t know where to go to find anything. I was wondering if you might be able to point us in the right direction.”
“What do you have in mind, Mrs. Brandt?”
“We’d like to know where he was when the USS Washington sank. Our sources say he was on vacation, but he didn’t leave any number, address, or indication as to where he would be.”
“I can’t help you, Mrs. Brandt. I don’t have access to that information, but Mr. Tong might be able to help. I’ll contact him and see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Admiral. Good-bye.”
“Everything’s ready to go,” said Doris. “I can intercept the communications satellite and John has figured out how to get into it.”
“How?” Matthew wanted to know.
“We’ll grab a relay net,” answered John, “relay through a few satellites, and patch the call through. If we intercept the line at the same time someone is making a call, it’ll look like a legitimate phone call. The caller will get a busy signal, and he’ll think his call didn’t get through.”
“That sounds simple enough. How fool proof is it.”
“I doubt they’ll even pick up the call. But they’ll probably pick up our use of the satellite. The watchdog programs use artificial intelligence to detect intruders. When they detect us, they’ll figure out which line we’re using and trace it back. We’re using more than one satellite to route the call, so that’ll slow them down. We should get about five or six minutes talking time. You’ll have to break it off before then. If they get us, they can track our electronic emissions day and night. We would have to do a total system shut down to get rid of them.”
“That wouldn’t be too smart with that sub around,” said Ron. “They can also pick up our transmission, and our fuel supply won’t last forever.”
“Anybody got any thoughts on this? Once we start, it’s too late to complain that we should have tried another way.” No one spo
ke.
“Okay, let’s set it up.”