Maddock retraced his steps carefully back the way he had come, careful not to let his enthusiasm for trying out his new plan overcome his operational judgment. He still had to be extremely wary. Ducking, watching, listening nearly every step of the way. The entire mission was on the line, not to mention his and Bones’ personal safety. He hung cat-like from the underside of a stairwell while a crewman ran up it, oblivious to his presence. When the man was out of sight, Maddock dropped to the deck and made the final dash to his destination.
The whale’s pool.
Shankey glided silently through another of his endless circles, the water barely rippling with his motion. Maddock glanced around the area beneath the overhang, took a deep breath and approached the pool. He couldn’t deny that he questioned his ability to do what he was about to try, but if it was successful it would provide just the distraction he was looking for.
Maddock watched Shankey for a moment while he summoned mental images of the Navy marine mammal trainers he’d observed in San Diego. The hand signals they used to interact with their dolphins. He doubted they would be exactly the same as what Mizuhi used with their pilot whale, but hopefully they would be close enough. He knew that the U.S. Navy marine mammal training programs were often emulated around the world because of their stellar reputation.
Hanging from a peg on the wall nearby was a whistle and he grabbed it and looped it around his neck. He knew that it would be easily heard around the ship and that once he used it he would need to be ready to move. But he also knew that much of the handling was done with hand signals alone.
He pressed himself up against the side of the tank and held an arm straight out over the water, palm flat. He was surprised when the whale suddenly altered its course and popped nose-up in the middle of its pool, eyeing Maddock curiously. It was a good sign. Next Maddock balled his outstretched hand into a fist and brought it to his chest. Come here.
Shankey dipped beneath the water and in two more seconds appeared in front of Maddock at the edge of the tank, his big head standing higher than Maddock’s own. He made a few clicking noises. Maddock made a slow sideways motion with his palm. Lay down. The whale eased itself into a prostrate position, floating on its belly in front of Maddock.
The green light on the explosive device blinked on top of Shankey’s head. It had been placed there so that the whale could nudge it onto something, as it had attempted with Earhart’s plane. But Maddock had a use for it himself. He studied the device’s latch mechanism for a moment and then reached out and unsnapped the catch that fastened it to the whale’s harness. He felt it click and then he pried the bomb loose from its fitting and took it from the whale.
He watched the LED carefully to make sure its pattern or color hadn’t changed. Still blinking green at the same rate. So far so good. He patted Shankey’s back, telling the animal it had done a good job. Then he looked back down at the explosive device, smiling. He now had a bomb at his disposal, but how to set the timer?
He noticed a raised backplate and found he was able to slide it open, revealing circuitry beneath. Set into this was a tiny LCD readout with a rocker switch. Currently the display showed two blinking dashes across it, separated by a dot. Maddock pressed the upper portion of the switch with a fingernail and saw numbers materialize on the display, still blinking: 10:00. Maddock saw a tiny red button to the right of the switch and figured that was to activate the detonation countdown once the desired numbers were selected.
He looked around the ship, then decided he needed more time, but not so much that he’d be sitting around waiting for it to go off, or that Bones would get into trouble before the distraction could do any good. He hit the switch again until the numbers blinked 15:00. Fifteen minutes should be enough time for him to place the bomb and be far enough away from it when it detonated that it would cause the needed distraction without injuring him. He knew that this single explosive was lethal, and with the correct placement it might even be able to blow a large enough hole in the ship’s hull to sink it. He recalled the damage the one just like it had done to the underwater cave system.
Pondering the best place to stick it, he flipped it over and smoothed his fingers across the magnetic surface. Too close to the work deck and he could hurt Bones. Too far and it would simply take him too long to place it and then get back to Bones. At any moment the big Indian could be discovered. Or himself, for that matter, he thought, looking over his shoulder. After a moment’s more reflection he decided that beneath the superstructure, as far down along the hull as he could get it would do sufficient damage, and probably not kill anyone, which he wanted to avoid if possible.
He was about to hit the red button and then paused, looking in at Shankey, who still waited patiently on his belly. No reason for this whale to be stuck in here while all Hell breaks loose. Maddock moved across the pool to the sliding gate. He reached in with the hand not holding the bomb, undid the latch and lifted the gate to reveal the opening through the hull. He ran back to the whale.
“You’re free, Shankey! Go!” He patted the whale’s back and pointed to the gate. The whale didn’t move. “C’mon, Shankey!” The whale eyed him expectantly. Maddock brought the whistle to his lips and gave a short blast. Instantly, the pilot whale ducked beneath the water and bolted for the open gate, disappearing down the slide into the ocean. Then Maddock depressed the red button on the explosive.
He took off running. He could have waited until he got to where the bomb would be placed to set the timer, but the superstructure area was busy and he didn’t want to have to sit around with his nose buried in the precision electronics if he could help it. Fifteen minutes should be enough time…
The ship was large and he had a fair amount of ground to cover. What’s more, he had to allow for time to evade, time to find his way around. At least he felt like a real SEAL again, though, with a bomb in one hand and a gun in the other, a backup gun tucked in his waistband. Still, he hoped no one got in his way.
He ducked from one little alcove-like space to the next, at times pausing to let a crewman pass by on the walkway in front of him before continuing. He found it difficult to keep from checking his watch every thirty seconds. When four minutes had elapsed he found himself at the base of the superstructure. He craned his neck and looked up at the towering construction. He knew that most of the ship’s personnel who were not already out on the work deck would be in here. He briefly considered placing the explosive somewhere inside the superstructure but then just as quickly dismissed the idea. It would likely prove fatal to at least a few people, and despite that, the many walls of the rooms there might serve to contain the explosion somewhat, limiting the physical damage to the ship.
He cast his gaze down, at the smooth curve of the hull above the waterline. If he could put the incendiary device down there, it would probably rupture the hull. Then water would flood the ship’s hold, possibly the engine rooms, but he knew that a hull breach below the waterline would cause the ship to sink if the damage couldn’t be repaired soon enough. Not only that, but the brunt of the explosive’s damage would most likely be away from everyone on the ship, sparing them from grave injury on detonation.
But how to get down there?
He wished he had the normal complement of climbing gear SEALs normally carried and in which he was well-trained. But then, as he stared down at the black lagoon below, he had a different idea. He glanced at his watch: eight minutes elapsed, seven remaining. He heard the footfalls and voices of two people descending the stairs high above him and knew it was time to act. He could probably search about the deck for some rope or braided nylon line, but he was pretty sure that if he acted right now the simpler method would also work. Pretty sure.
Maddock glanced left and right to make sure no one was looking his way. Looking over the ship once more, he double-checked that the vessel was no longer moving. They were anchored in the shallow lagoon. Good as it’s going to get.
Maddock leaped off the deck. He did his best to straighten his body during the twenty or so feet before he hit the lagoon so that he entered the water feet first, minimizing the noise from his splash. He felt the warm atoll water wash over his head, the sensation of sinking. Then, not surprisingly, he felt the crunch of sand between his toes as his feet hit the lagoon’s bottom. He pushed off and knifed upward, his eyes locked on the blurry moon through shimmering the water’s surface.
He emerged alongside the ship and immediately looked up along the deck rail to see if anyone had noticed the man overboard, but as far as he could tell, no one did. He looked up once at the massive, dark wall stretching up before him and kicked toward it. He would have to be very careful. Even at anchor, the ship rolled a bit with the swells and should he get too far beneath the hull, it could crush him easily, or knock him out.
He gripped the explosive in his hand as he swam up to the metal wall. It moved a little and he waited to make his move while he timed the motion.
Up…down…Up…down…Now!
Maddock stretched out the hand holding the bomb and kicked forward. He felt a panicky adrenaline surge when his hand started to arc back down through only air, thinking he had fallen short of the target in the darkness, but then he was met with a sudden, firm resistance as the hockey-puck in his hand clapped onto the ship’s side…and held. He treaded water for a moment, watching the LED blink red. The bomb was holding, staying in place.
He activated the light on his watch and checked the time: four minutes remaining.
Maddock scissor-kicked into motion along the side of the ship toward the stern work deck. He swam underwater as much as possible to reduce the noise and chances of being seen, and because it was still a fast stroke. Even so, the ship’s long body seemed to stretch out forever in front of him, almost as if it grew longer each time he surfaced for a breath. He began to worry. If he was not out of the water when the explosive detonated, his body would be subject to the concussion waves. And this time he wasn’t even wearing a wetsuit.
He swam faster, eyes open in the darkness, seeking the blurry form of the monstrous hull lest he stray too far out into the lagoon or even worse, stray beneath the ship. He suppressed the strong urge to stop and look at his watch. Just kept swimming like he was in a race against an invisible opponent. Before long he could hear the shouts of men and he knew he was approaching the stern work deck. He began to look for the boarding ladder.
Up ahead, still an Olympic pool length away. Again Maddock resisted the urge to check his watch and pushed on. He swam harder than he ever had in his life, even during BUDS training. Told himself not to look up, not yet, he wasn’t there yet. He forced himself to count to thirty before checking his progress.
…28 Mississippi…29 Mississippi…30 Mississippi…
He raised his head, and there it was: the iron rungs set into the side of the ship, maybe fifty feet away. And just beyond that, the shadow of an airplane limned against the moonlit sky, hanging half over the rail. With Bones hopefully still undetected inside.
Maddock swam to the ladder and began to climb, his first priority to get himself out of the water where he would be much less vulnerable to the underwater explosion. When he had climbed about halfway up the side of the ship he stopped and consulted his watch, hanging there like a rock climber on the side of a huge, smooth face.
00:04…
Four seconds to detonation. Maddock braced for impact, careful not to let his body touch the ship itself, only contacting the rungs.
He closed his eyes and held his breath.