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Max shrugged. “They’re not nearly as powerful as the ones the Deepwater installed. We’ll never hear the sound of a diesel-electric sub running on batteries.”
“We don’t need to,” Juan said. “We only have to hear the whale’s song.”
Max nodded. “That might be enough. I’ll send out Hali and Murph in a Zodiac to drop it in the water near the U-turn of the fjord. But how are we going to fight it with no torpedoes of our own?”
“We have to get it to the surface. The sonar alterations that Murph made might work.”
Max looked skeptical, but there was no other choice. “If the sub sees us before we spot them, she’ll plant a couple of torpedoes in us, and then it’s game over.”
Juan knew he was right. This entire strategy was a long shot, and the situation looked dire for the Oregon. Even if they survived an encounter with the Chinese sub, they still had to get past the Portland, which was looking more improbable by the minute.
“I have an idea how to bring the sub to the surface,” Juan said. “I’ll let Hali and Murph know what they need to do. You find Maurice and tell him to come see me.”
“Maurice?” Max asked, puzzled why Juan would want to see the chief steward at a time like this.
Juan gave Max a solemn look. “I have an important task for him. And I don’t think he’s going to like it.”
61
The hydraulic platform in the aft hold of the Oregon rose out of the deck while Gomez Adams untied the skids of the MD 520N five-passenger helicopter. Unlike most choppers, this one had no tail rotor. Instead, rotation of the aircraft was controlled by exhaust from the turbine that was vented through slots in the tail boom.
He climbed in and rapidly went through the checklist to get the chopper airborne as quickly as possible. While Gomez was busy starting it up, Linda, MacD, and Raven loaded a complement of assault rifles into the helicopter, enough to outfit a squad of soldiers. All three were dressed in combat gear and body armor.
“Do you think they’ll have anyone on the Deepwater who can fire those things?” Gomez asked Linda.
“NUMA always has a few Navy vets on board,” she said. “And, we know how to handle our weapons.”
“Ah just hope we get there in time,” MacD said.
“As far as we know, they haven’t been spotted,” Raven said, handing up the last of the ammunition. Now there was barely room inside the cabin for the three of them. Linda got into the front seat beside Gomez while Raven and MacD squeezed into the rear. All of them put headsets on.
“Everyone buckled in?” Gomez asked.
They all said yes, and he started the engine and engaged the five-bladed rotor. Within seconds, it was up to full speed, and he deftly lifted off from the Oregon. He wheeled around and sped down the fjord, waving to Hali and Murph as he flew over, each in his own Zodiac.
Gomez coul
d have chosen a direct flight path from the Oregon to the Deepwater, but instead he flew overland as much as he could to minimize the chance that he’d accidentally pass over the Portland. If her anti-aircraft missile system was the same as the one on the Oregon, Tate could easily blow him out of the sky.
He passed over one last mountain and saw the Deepwater anchored in the isolated cove. The sole waterway into it was so tiny that he gave the captain credit for squeezing through successfully. If the Portland tried the same thing, it would be wedged in place.
He circled the Deepwater once so they could see he was from the Oregon. Then he dived down and hovered over the bow landing pad, settling onto it so gently that it was hard to tell they’d even made contact.
Two women approached the helicopter as Linda, MacD, and Raven got out. He couldn’t hear what was said among them because he didn’t stop the rotor, but each of the women expertly checked the magazine on the assault rifle given to her and slung the weapon over her shoulder. Raven and MacD carried the rest away toward the bridge.
Linda came back over and spoke into the headset.
“We don’t want Tate to know we got here,” she said. “If they see the chopper on the pad, they’ll be wary about approaching. We want to catch them by surprise. Better go back to the Oregon.”
“Roger that,” Gomez replied.
Linda closed the door and backed away. As soon as she was clear, Gomez took off.
When he neared the top of the mountain, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.
It was a drone. The quadcopter was just cresting the ridge to the south. The only reason he saw its gray body was because it stuck out against the white snow on the mountaintop. It had to be from the Portland.
He radioed the Deepwater about the drone, but he didn’t hear a response. He was too distracted by the flare of a missile’s exhaust racing toward him over the mountain from behind the drone.
