Goliath

Gunnar looks up.

The scarlet eyeball is watching him, calculating.

Have to alert that American sub. But if I leave the ship, Rocky’s worse than dead …

Hugging the ladder with the crook of one arm, Gunnar uses his upper body to conceal the satchel containing the rest of the C-4 from the computer’s overhead view. Quickly, he jams the blasting cap into the terminal block of plastique, then pulls the ring up and twists it several times, pressing it back into the fuse-igniter.

He climbs back up into the hangar, counting the seconds.

Rocky glances at him. “What the hell are you doing? Get on board that minisub, get the hell out of here!”

“Change of plans, darling.” Looking down, he tosses the satchel inside the open cockpit of the minisub.

The computer’s reaction is immediate.

The outer doors of docking bay one suddenly burst open beneath the minisub, sending a wall of water rocketing upward into the hangar bay like a geyser, blasting Gunnar, Rocky, and David backward as if they had been shot out of a cannon.

Sorceress reseals the hangar decking, stifling the flow—

—simultaneously releasing the minisub from its skids, launching the machine into the sea.

WA-BOOM … The underwater eruption splatters the minisub into a million fragments, the devastating concussion wave rocking the Goliath, bending a dozen steel plates along its outer hull in the process.

Soaking wet, his ears ringing, Gunnar opens his eyes to the barrel of an AK-47 assault rifle.

“Each time you are honest and conduct yourself with honesty, a success force will drive you toward greater success. Each time you lie, even with a little white lie, there are strong forces pushing you toward failure.”

—Joseph Sugarman

“I had a bad day.”

—Susan Smith, South Carolina mother who told authorities her two sons had been kidnapped. It was later repealed she had murdered them by strapping them into their car seats and driving into a lake

“There’s no reason denying what we become. We know what we are.”

—Henry Lee Lucas, who murdered ninety people. Lucas was known to have eaten some of his victims

“I start with the premise that all human disease is genetic.”

—Paul Berg, Nobel laureate

CHAPTER 28

Aboard the USS Scranton

220 miles southeast of Madagascar Indian Ocean

The burrr of the phone drives Tom Cubit from an hour’s catnap. Without opening his eyes, he rolls over and reaches for the receiver by his berth. “Captain here.”

“Sorry to disturb you, Skipper. Sonar just detected a massive underwater explosion, forty-two miles northeast of us. Flynnie’s convinced it came from the Goliath.”

Cubit sits up. “What’s her course, Chief?”

“She heading south on course one-nine-zero, doing sixty knots.”

“One-nine-zero?” Cubit rubs his eyes, then scans the bloodred, gasplasma display of the BSY-1 combat system, mounted next to his bunk. “Covah should have changed course by now. If he stays on that heading, he’ll be under pack ice by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Be tough to track.”

“Goliath doesn’t need the added stealth. Tell Flynnie to double-check the bearing.”

“He says he’s checked it four times, sir. Should I plot an intercept course?”

“Negative. I’m tired of being outrun and outmaneuvered by that Russian egghead, it’s time we tried a new tactic. Take us to periscope depth, I’ll be right there.”

Captain Cubit arrives in the conn just as his submarine levels out. “Steady at sixty-two feet.”

Officer of the Deck Mitch Friedenthal, manning the Type-18 periscope, is just finishing his quick scan of the horizon to ensure no other ships are within visual range. “No close contacts, Captain.”

“Very well. Chief of the Watch, raise the number one BRA-34.”

Petty Officer Robert Furr flips a small toggle switch on his ballast control panel, causing the two seventy-three-foot-tall telescoping communications antennae to rise out from the ship.

“Conn, radio, transmission coming in on the VLF, sir.”

“On my way. Officer of the Deck, you have the conn.” Cubit hurries aft to the communications shack.

The communications officer hands his CO the very-low-frequency wire.