Section 8 (26 page)

Oahu

Royce called his contact at Pacific Fleet headquarters once more. This time he didn't ask questions, he issued orders. He wanted the diesel engine contact back on the SOSUS board. He wanted two Marine F-16s with live ordnance in the air with direct contact to him and under his orders. He had the proper code words authorizing these actions.
When he disconnected, Royce realized that for the first time he had gone beyond his Organization orders. The F-16s were not authorized. But he was damned if he was going to let Honolulu get wiped out just so the Organization could stay hidden. That thought made him sit bolt upright.
September 11, 2001.
Had someone in the Organization known and dropped the ball? Or had the ball been ordered to be dropped?

Over the Pacific

"Someone was prepared," Vaughn said as they stared at the gear laid out on the cargo bay floor. Parachutes, weapons, explosives, night vision equipment—it was a Special Operator's dream pallet.
"We could always ram this plane into the sub," Tai said.
"That's what the bad guys do," Vaughn said. He was connecting what he saw in front of him with what needed to be done. "Okay, here's the plan…"

Pacific Ocean

Moreno had his eyes pressed against the periscope. He strained to see as far as the scope would let him. There was the slightest smudge directly ahead on the horizon. Land.
Diamond Head.

Oahu

Royce was looking at the display when Foster came walking into the control center. "What's going on?" Foster asked.
Royce turned in his seat and drew a pistol from a shoulder holster.
"What the hell are you—"
Royce fired once, the round going through Foster's heart. The Sim-Center director fell to the floor. Royce stared at the body for a few seconds, then checked David's computer, searching for someone who could come sweep the body. He made the call, then turned his attention back to the board.
A green flashing dot was now there, not far off Diamond Head. Royce noted the coordinates, typed them into the computer and hit the send button. Then he unhooked the computer and slid it in the carrying case.
Satphone in hand, he left the Sim-Center and went out to the Defender. He got in and drove toward Pearl Harbor. On the way, he called ahead, and using the proper authorization codes, lined up a search and rescue Blackhawk helicopter to be ready to take off as soon as he arrived.

Over the Pacific

"This isn't much of a plan," Tai noted. She had a parachute on her back, a rucksack rigged in front, and her MP-5 tied on top of the rucksack.
"You got a better one?" Vaughn asked.
"Just because I don't have a better one doesn't make this a good one."
"Point taken," Vaughn said as the crew chief held up five fingers. "But five minutes out, it's all we got."
They had received the location of the submarine from Royce, and the plane was on a direct line toward it at 10,000 feet of altitude. The back ramp slowly opened, revealing sunlight and a glittering blue ocean far below. Vaughn and Tai edged forward, one on each side. They poked their heads into the slipstream and peered out. Off to the left and ahead was Oahu, with Diamond Head the most prominent and recognizable feature.
There was no sign of the submarine, but at the speed the airplane was flying, Vaughn didn't expect to see it yet. He pulled his head back in and glanced over at Tai. She shook her head.
The crew chief held up four fingers.

* * *

Royce could see the track of the Talon and the location of the submarine on the screen of his laptop, automatically forwarded to him via satellite from the Sim-Center. He was in the back of the Blackhawk, the engines powering up in preparation for takeoff.
The plane was on a direct intercept course. He also could see the red dot representing the two F-16s circling. He looked out of the helicopter and couldn't spot any of them, but knew they would be in visual range shortly, as the helicopter raced past Waikiki. Royce noted the people lying on the beach, enjoying themselves, not knowing death was approaching.
He keyed the radio. "Dragon Leader, this is Control. Over."
"This is Dragon Leader. Over."
"You will attack only on my order. Is that understood? Over."
"Roger that. Over."
"Out."

* * *

Moreno could clearly see Diamond Head now. He had studied the data and knew the prevailing winds. That, combined with the effectiveness of the sprayer and the time the ZX would stay airborne—all the factors had been considered to come up with the spot where they would surface and release death.
It would not be long now.
He blinked as something flashed across his field of vision. He adjusted the focus and realized it was a sailboat. Probably a thousand meters in front of his position. He could see the people on board. Two couples. Rich Americans, indulging themselves. The women were dressed indecently—in fact, one of the women wore no top.
Whores. They deserved what was coming.
But he could not turn the periscope away. He tracked the boat cutting across his path. He saw the topless woman go up to the man at the helm and give him a kiss. A tender one. Not like a whore would.
Young lovers.
The thought flashed across his mind.
Moreno twisted the scope away and took readings off the landmarks.
They were very close now.
"Prepare for surface operations," he ordered.
The man in the containment suit was already prepared. Dressed and with a container of ZX resting on the decking, held in place with both hands.

* * *

The crew chief held up one finger. Vaughn nodded at Tai, and once more they leaned out of the plane, peering ahead.
Vaughn saw a sailboat cutting through the waves ahead.
That was it.
The seconds ticked by. The green light high up in the tail section flashed on, indicating they were over the submarine's location, but Vaughn saw nothing. He glanced over his shoulder and met Tai's gaze. She shook her head. Nothing.
Vaughn looked at the crew chief and twirled a finger, indicating they needed to circle around.

* * *

"Surface," Moreno ordered. He looked at the man in the containment suit. "Are you ready?"
The head inside the hood bobbed in the affirmative, and the man made his way to the metal ladder leading to the conning tower hatch. Moreno moved to him and placed a hand on the rung at eye level. "I will lead."
From periscope depth to surface took only a few seconds, and a klaxon sounded, indicating they were up. Moreno bolted up the ladder.

* * *

The Talon was banking in a wide circle, turning right, away from Oahu. Vaughn looked out and saw Diamond Head with Honolulu off to the left. He returned his attention to the ocean and cursed. The long cigar shape of a submarine heading straight toward the island was now apparent. And they were still banking in their turn at 10,000 feet.
Vaughn jumped to his feet. He looked up at the lights in the tail section. Red. He mentally willed the plane to turn faster.

* * *

Moreno brought the binoculars to his eyes as the man in the containment suit carefully climbed down to the sprayer with the canisters, then began to screw one of them into the hose.
Satisfied they were in the right spot, Moreno licked a finger and held it up to the wind. Even given the forward movement of the submarine, the wind was strong from the aft, which would blow the agent from the sprayer on the forward deck toward Honolulu.
Perfect conditions.

* * *

Vaughn couldn't control himself. He quickly knelt and peered ahead into the prop blast. He could see a tiny figure on the deck of the submarine next to some device, which he had to assume was the sprayer for the nerve agent. There was another person on top of the conning tower.
Two.
That was good.
Time.
That was bad.
Vaughn looked up at the jump lights.
Red.
Red.
Red.
Green.
He stepped off the ramp, seeing Tai do the same out of the corner of his eye. He spread his arms and legs, getting stable. Then he began to move his arms and legs ever so slightly to direct his descent toward the submarine. He could see the man in the protective suit working on the machine just forward of the conning tower.
Shit.
Vaughn inclined his body forward into an almost direct dive down. He couldn't see Tai but assumed she was right behind him.

* * *

"Control, this is Dragon Leader. We have the target on the surface. Two personnel in sight. One in what appears to be a protective suit and working on something that looks like a weapon. Over."
Royce clenched his hands into fists. "Do you have the Talon in sight? Over."
"Roger. And two people just parachuted out. Over."
"Hold your position. Out."
Royce closed the computer—it was of no use now—walked forward and leaned between the pilots, peering ahead. He saw the submarine now, about two kilometers off Diamond Head, nose pointed directly toward Honolulu.

* * *

The man in the suit looked up at Moreno and nodded that he was ready. Moreno looked across the blue water at the lush island ahead, the shoreline scarred with high rises and developments. The way the rich always did—destroying the beautiful for their own selfish purposes.
Moreno raised his arm to signal release of the agent.

* * *

Vaughn passed through 3,000 feet, and Tai was now alongside him in a very steep dive. "They're going to do it," she yelled into the radio.
And with that she went vertical, head down, terminal velocity, outstripping Vaughn, who was still maintaining a stable position in order to be able to deploy his parachute.
Two thousand feet.
Vaughn went fully stable and reached for his rip cord, his eyes on Tai, who had to be a thousand feet below him and belatedly trying to do the same. He pulled his rip cord and was jerked from horizontal to feet down, head up, controlled descent. He immediately grabbed the toggles and dumped air from the chute.
Below him, Tai pulled her rip cord while still falling at a rate of speed beyond what was safe. The chute deployed, and the opening shock was so great, the straps of her harness ripped into her body. Her left thigh, taking the strong point of impact, dislocated out of the hip joint.
Tai screamed in pain. Worse than her pain, though, was the fact that the chute had not been designed to take such an opening. With a ripping sound, several seams split open in the canopy. She was less than two hundred feet above the submarine and falling fast.

* * *

Moreno heard the scream of pain—coming from above. Startled, he looked up and saw the two parachutists, one of whom was coming down very fast. Then he heard another sound, which distracted him—helicopter blades. Turning to the east, he saw a Blackhawk helicopter coming toward them low and fast.
"Do it now!" Moreno yelled.
The suited man put his hand on the knob that would open the flow of nerve agent into the high-powered sprayer.

* * *

Through tears of pain, Tai saw the man in the protective suit put his hand on the knob less than a hundred feet below. Ignoring her injuries, she reached up and grabbed the toggles. She aimed herself, then dumped what little air was left.
A hundred feet above her, Vaughn saw what she was doing even as he untied his MP-5 from the rig.
Tai hit him at forty miles an hour, smashing him into the metal deck with a sickening sound of bones breaking in both their bodies. Then the two lay sprawled on the deck, motionless.

* * *

Cursing, Moreno jumped to the ladder and slid down to the deck. He ran forward from the conning tower toward the sprayer. As he ran, he pulled out the remote detonator. A burst of bullets ricocheted off the deck in front of him, but he ignored them.

* * *

Vaughn had a choice between controlling his landing or firing once more. He chose to fire.
The second burst hit Moreno, stitching a pattern from his right hip up his side, with the last round hitting him in the head, killing him instantly.
Vaughn dropped the gun and grabbed the toggles. He was able to make one adjustment, then hit the side of the submarine hard. The only thing that saved him was the parachute draped across the deck, snagging on some tie-down points, preventing him from sliding down into the water.
Reaching up, he used the risers to pull himself onto the deck. He drew his knife and cut loose from the parachute. Hearing the clang of a hatch opening somewhere farther back, probably in the conning tower, he knew he had little time. He ran toward the sprayer, leaping over Moreno's body, when he saw something that caused him to abruptly halt.
Moreno's lifeless hand held a remote detonator.
A shot rang out. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw someone taking aim with an AK-47 from the conning tower and a second armed man appear. There was no time for any other choice. Vaughn ripped the detonator out of Moreno's hand and pressed the red button.
The submarine shuddered as the first charge, in the engine room, went off.
Vaughn didn't wait for the rest to go off. He dropped the detonator as bullets whistled by his ears, the aim thrown off by the explosion. Grabbing hold of Tai's harness, he rolled with her off the boat, into the water.
A second explosion went off on the submarine.
Vaughn cut Tai loose of her parachute, then swam with all his might, towing her, trying to get as far away as possible from the imploding submarine.

* * *

Royce saw the tongue of flame jet out of the conning tower, killing the gunmen. The rear quarter of the submarine was already below the surface, dragging the rest of the craft down. He could see the two swimmers. He knew he should leave them, but the crew of the chopper had also seen them and the pilot was already directing the craft toward them. So he remained quiet.

* * *

A safety ring attached to a lift line splashed into the water about ten feet away. Vaughn swam to it and hooked both Tai's and his harnesses up to the line. He gave a thumbs-up and was lifted out of the water.
He looked over at the sub. The bow was lifting out of the water even as another explosion blew open a hole near the torpedo rooms. Within seconds the sub slid back into the water and was gone.
Hands reached out of the chopper, pulling him and Tai inside. Vaughn sprawled on the floor as the medics went to work on her. Looking over, he saw a man sitting on the rear bench, staring at him.
Royce. Whose eyes widened when he recognized them.