Goliath

“Sometime in the next thirty years, very quietly one day we will cease to be the brightest things on Earth.”

—James McAlear

“This conflict was begun on the timing of others; it will end in a way and at an hour of our choosing.”

—President George W. Bush, after the terrorism of 9-11-01

“The road to Hell is paved with good intentions”

—Samuel Johnson

CHAPTER 4

White House

Washington, D.C.

Gunnar follows Rocky and the two MPs down a short corridor in the West Wing of the White House. His pulse quickens as the large, light-skinned African American steps out from behind a set of double doors to the president’s Situation Room.

The Bear returns his daughter’s salute. “Wait for us inside.”

Rocky shoots her father a look, then enters the private chamber, leaving the two MPs unsure of what to do next.

“Return to your posts.”

“But sir—”

“Dismissed.”

The MPs pivot and head back down the hall.

General Jackson stares at his former commando. “Glad you’re here.” “Didn’t have much of a choice:”

“The president’s inside waiting. We’ll talk later. For now, keep your ears open and your mouth shut, and don’t allow anyone to provoke you.”

“Maybe you ought to mention that to your daughter.”

Ignoring the comment, Jackson opens the door, motioning Gunnar inside. The newly appointed commander in chief of the United States Special Operations Command feels as if he is leading a lamb to slaughter.

Rocky is standing off to one side. Her father signals her over as a gangly civilian with tight wavy hair steps forward to greet them.

“Commander Jackson, meet Gray Ayers, Secretary of the Navy. Mr. Secretary, this is my daughter, Commander Rochelle Jackson-Hatcher.”

Thomas Gray Ayers, Jr. extends his hand. “We’re all sorry for your loss, Commander, and I’m sure there are places you’d rather be, but this briefing singularly requires your presence. When answering the president, keep your responses short and to the point. Nothing too technical, but don’t hold back either. Edwards has been around the block a few times and doesn’t like to be bullshitted.” Ayers turns to face Gunnar, a grimace pulling on his long face. “Mr. Wolfe, I’m not quite sure what to say to you. The general feels you can shed some light on what’s happened, and I respect his opinion, but frankly, I’d just as soon see you shot for treason.”

Ayers nods curtly to General Jackson, then walks away, taking his place at the conference table.

Gunnar grits his teeth. “Nice to meet you, too … asshole.”

Jackson grips Gunnar’s elbow, leading him and his daughter toward three vacant chairs.

Two more men enter. The Bear leans over to Gunnar, informing him that the man with the black hair and piercing blue eyes is Austin Tapscott, the new Secretary of Defense. The former Army Airborne sniper offers a curt nod. The general with the receding hairline is Marc Ben-Meir, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He offers his condolences to Rocky, pointedly refusing to so much as glance at Gunnar.

A short man enters the Situation Room, pushing his way past the general.

President Edwards’s newly appointed Secretary of State takes a seat at the conference table and ceremoniously begins reviewing his notes. Nick Nunziata, Jr. is a former senator from Georgia who lacks the jovial personality of his late father, Democratic congressman Nicholas Nunziata, Sr. At five-foot-seven, Nunziata’s short stature belies a fierce reputation. A straightforward, no-nonsense guy bearing a bit of a Napoleon complex, the man is not one to be trifled with.

The President of the United States enters through a paneled door, followed by CIA Director Gabor Pertic. The steely look behind Edwards’s fierce hazel eyes reveals the seriousness of the meeting. A staunch conservative Democrat, Jeff Edwards’s middle-aged looks are already showing signs of wear and tear from his first years in office, the most recent events causing the dark brown hairs along his temples to turn gray almost overnight.

The president takes his place at the center chair.

“All right, let’s get at it. For those of you who don’t know, Director Pertic and I have spent most of the last forty-eight hours in conference with Li Peng. It took a lot of balls for the Chinese president to come forward. Then again, had he not, our retaliatory actions against his nation would have started World War III.”

Edwards’s last words hang in the air. Rocky feels her intestines crawling inside her stomach.

The president signals to his CIA Director, who removes a minidisk from his jacket pocket and inserts it into a volume display located at the center of the conference table. It’s an advanced model, one that can render opaque objects, or show the same 2-D image to a 360-degree audience.

The ghostly image of a Chinese coastline appears, the aerial view closing on the concrete roof of a massive factory. “This is the Jianggezhuang Submarine Base, an underground facility located on the southern coast of the Bo Hai Gulf, on the opposite side of the Shandong Peninsula from Qingdao. Seven years ago, one of our CIA operatives reported that former president Yang Shangkun had met in secrecy with Jiang Zemin and members of China’s military leaders in an attempt to bolster his political standing. Shangkun bragged to the commission that he had connections with a high-level operative who had worked in our Special Warfare Division in Keyport. This operative claimed he had access to the schematics of an experimental weapon that could render the United States fleet helpless.”

Secretary of State Nunziata shakes his head. “I’ve met Shangkun. Bastard was the military strongman who attempted to use his connections in China’s armed forces to take supreme power back in the late eighties. Although he failed, he did play a crucial role in suppressing the pro-democracy demonstrations that swept China back in ’89.”

Pertic nods, then continues. “Although he was forced into retirement, Shangkun still remained a power broker in Chinese politics. Several years had passed since the Chinese had stolen military secrets from Los Alamos, and most of the ineffective political pressures imposed by the Clinton administration had subsided. The Chinese agreed to finance Yang Shangkun’s operation. The schematics were stolen, along with key components of a biochemical computer, called Sorceress. Seven years and $18 billion later, the Chinese Navy covertly finished construction on the Goliath, the most lethal killing machine ever designed—a weapon, as we’ve seen, that is capable of changing the balance of power.”

Director Pertic looks Gunnar squarely in the eyes. “Evidence concerning the theft of the Goliath’s schematics had pointed squarely at Captain Wolfe, who headed the project’s weapons department.”

Gunnar starts to say something, but the Bear is quicker, gripping his forearm tightly in one paw, the glare in his hazel eyes warning the ex-Ranger to remain silent.

Pertic continues. “Of course, we now know the operative was not Captain Wolfe but a close friend of his at Keyport. Want to tell us who your friend was, Captain? Or do you prefer I reveal his identity?”

Gunnar’s pulse pounds in his ears. “It’s your party, I’m just an invited guest.”

“But you know who did it, don’t you?”

Gunnar nods. “I have my suspicions.”

“Dammit, man, where were your loyalties?” Secretary of Defense Tapscott says, ripping into him. “We both served in the Gulf. You were one of our best commandos, you risked your life for your country at least a dozen times. If only you had revealed the traitor’s name years ago, none of this might have happened!”

Gunnar feels the knot in his throat tighten. “Sir, at the time, I had no idea Simon had stolen the schematics.”

“Simon Covah?” Rocky groans.

Pertic slides a new disk into the volume display’s control box. A rotating image appears. It is a man’s face, heavily scarred. The head is cleanly shaved, the skin along one side showing evidence of numerous grafts. A thick auburn mustache and goatee cover most of the burn marks located along the mouth.

“Simon Bela Covah. Born in Russia in 1956, the oldest of six children. Covah’s father was a submarine commander who served in the Soviet Navy during World War II. The mother was left to raise six children in a small farming village while her husband was at sea. Young Simon, who possessed an IQ of 182, was enrolled in Moscow State University at the unheard-of age of fourteen. Three years later, he graduated at the top of his class and received a high-ranking position at the Sevmash Naval Yard in Severodvinsk, where he served as an apprentice and aide to Sergey Nikitich Kovalev, the chief designer for the Typhoon-class ballistic missile submarines. Covah’s interest turned to computers, and his eventual expertise helped the Soviets close the technological gap between their submarine force and ours. The Company first took an interest in him several years later, during the design phase of Russia’s new Borey-class missile submarine.”

Secretary Nunziata looks peeved. “Are you saying Covah was recruited by the CIA?”

“CIA tried. Covah disappeared for a while, then showed up working in secret for Toronto’s biggest biotech corporation, Cangen. Dr. Goode eventually recruited him at Keyport.”

Rocky turns to Nunziata. “Without Covah, Dr. Goode could never have completed Sorceress’s biointerfacing silicon microcircuitry, or her genetically engineered computational bacteria. The man really is a genius. Unfortunately, none of us had a clue about the man’s real intentions … with the possible exception of Gunnar Wolfe.”

Pertic nods. “Covah exhibited all the telltale signs of being the perfect defector. The breakup and financial collapse of the Soviet Union brought with it massive chaos in Russia’s naval yards, which were overwhelmed with a logjam of nuclear subs waiting to be decommissioned. Covah became disgusted with the dismantling and disposal procedures and began providing us details regarding the storage and reprocessing of the boomers’ spent nuclear fuel cells as early as 1987. CIA recruited him a short time later. As a precaution, he had his wife, Anna, a Chechen woman, move their family to her parent’s home in Zitinje. Turned out to be a fatal mistake. As preparations were being made to bring the entire family to the States, the Serbs invaded Kosovo. Covah hurried to Zitinje, only to find the village destroyed and his in-laws’ house burned to the ground. Anna had been raped and beaten. Simon was captured and tortured in front of his wife and daughters. The Serbs set him on fire and left him for dead, then murdered the remaining members of his family, burying the bodies in the neighbor’s backyard.”

Rocky stares at the hologram and the hideous facial deformities of the computer expert who had worked under her command for nearly two years. An act of hatred, fueling a thousand more …

Pertic continues. “How Covah actually survived the trauma is a medical wonder in itself. As you can see, the right side of the man’s face was burned clear down to the bone. Doctors had to replace the temporal section of his skull with a steel plate, which runs along his mangled earhole and right cheekbone. Covah refused to cover the plate with a skin graft—”

“He told me he always wanted to be reminded of the butchery,” Gunnar mumbles, a bit too loud.

Pertic gives him a long look. “Yes, well perhaps it was that internalized rage that gave him the strength to endure. Whatever the case, he spent four months in a NATO hospital before getting himself prematurely released. By that time, the United Nations had intervened in the Balkans and the pendulum had swung the other way. Covah joined the Kosovo Liberation Army, and the hunted became the hunter. Ethnic Albanian refugees returned to Kosovo from Macedonia and Albania, and the Serbs and other ethnic minorities suddenly found themselves at the mercy of the once-oppressed. Covah participated in some of the brutality, then just disappeared. Two years later, he showed up in Toronto. Dr. Goode brought him to Keyport after he quit Cangen.”

“He didn’t quit Cangen,” Gunnar says. “They threw him out.”

“Why?” Nunziata asks.

“Let’s just say, he pushed the envelope a bit too far.”

“Covah was brilliant,” General Jackson interjects. “He won the Feynman prize, awarded for molecular nanotechnology, three years running. The contributions he made to the GOLIATH Project were invaluable.”

“Yes, I’m sure the Chinese appreciated his efforts.” Nunziata snaps.

“Gentlemen, please.” The president looks tired. “Finish, Mr. Director.”

Gabor Pertic refers back to his notes. “The Chinese claim Covah and seven members of his team were given political asylum and large commissions to work on the Goliath.”

“Covah’s team?” Nunziata glances at Pertic. “Not more of our scientists?”

“No, sir. In fact, none of these men offer the kind of expertise that might be useful on a submarine. Bit of a ragtag group, vigilantes mostly.” Pertic scans the list. “Two Kurd brothers, a Tibetan refugee named Trevedi, a history teacher from Sierra Leone, a guerrilla leader in East Timor, an older Albanian, believed to be a relative of Covah’s deceased wife and his personal physician, and Thomas Chau, a Chinese engineer educated in the States. Covah convinced the Chinese that he needed this team in order to complete the programming phase of Goliath’s bioengineered artificial brain. Knowing squat about Sorceress, the Chinese were forced to give Covah carte blanche. Two days prior to the sub’s shakedown cruise, Covah’s team killed three guards and sneaked aboard. Stole the ship right out from under the Communists’ noses.”

“Does their story check out?” Secretary Ayers asks.

The CIA Director cues an aerial image, zooming in upon an immense fireball coming from what had been the Chinese submarine facility. “These photos were taken by Darkstar three days before the attack on the Ronald Reagan . As his parting farewell, Covah destroyed the entire submarine base.”

“I don’t get it,” Nunziata says. “This guy leaves Russia, gets booted from Canada, commits treason against the United States, then destroys China’s naval base. What the hell’s he after? Who’s his allegiance to?”

“I don’t know,” Rocky answers, “but he has followers. He sure had Commander Strejcek convinced.” She turns toward Gunnar. “And, of course, Captain Wolfe.”

Gunnar feels his blood pressure rising. “I had nothing to do with this.”

Rocky shakes her head. “Come on, Gunnar. Everyone at Keyport will testify you were Covah’s only friend.”

“Enough!” President Edwards stands, his face flushed. “Eight thousand sailors and $70 billion worth of warships are lying on the bottom of the Atlantic. What I want to know—what the American public is going to demand to know—is how the hell we’re going to stop this thing.”

A long silence.

“We did get one break,” Pertic says. “The Chinese claim Covah stole Goliath before any of their nuclear missiles had been loaded on board.”

“Some break,” Rocky mumbles.

Secretary Nunziata looks up, removing his spectacles. “Yes, Commander Jackson, you have something to share?”

Rocky takes a deep breath. “Sir, with all due respect, this committee has absolutely no idea what this submarine is capable of.”

“Which is why you’re here. Enlighten us, Commander. What makes this vessel so special?”

Rocky leans forward and ejects Pertic’s minidisk, inserting one of her own. The stingray-shaped image of the Goliath materializes, rotating slowly in midair.

“This is the only drawings we had left of the submarine. God knows what Covah’s added over the last seven years. The fact that Wolfe destroyed all of Goliath’s schematics really hurts our chances of stopping her.”

Gunnar grinds his teeth, but says nothing. Easy, G-man. Remember, discipline is one of the highest forms of intelligence … .

“As you can see, she resembles a giant stingray. NUWC researchers began working with the design in 1997 after we successfully shattered the sound barrier in water using flat-nosed projectiles. The flattened curvature of the Goliath’s hull lends itself to increased hydrodynamic performance and incredible speeds, while making her nearly impossible to detect underwater.”

Gray Ayers shakes his head. “Never liked the design myself. The ray shape worked well in smaller, shallow-water subs, but structural inefficiencies compromised its weight at greater depths.”

“True, Mr. Secretary,” Rocky says, “but by placing the Goliath’s ballast system within her unpressurized wings and allowing the computer to oversee the entire process, we were able to achieve degrees of maneuverability not possible in the standard teardrop-shaped pressure hull. It’s the same principle as in flying. A bird can maneuver far better than any plane because its brain makes minuscule adjustments in flight. Goliath’s biochemical brain was designed to achieve the same results. And like a bird, it was programmed to learn, getting better with experience. The sub’s one Achilles’ heel would be a relative instability while running along the surface, but in deeper water, she’ll move like a fish.”

“How big is this thing?”

“Big and flat. Six hundred and ten feet from bow to stern, which is even longer than a Typhoon, with dimensions rivaling that of a baseball field. But don’t let her size fool you. She’s fast—in fact, she can achieve speeds beyond that of our fastest ADCAP torpedoes.”

“How’s that possible?” the president asks.

“In addition to her flat hydrodynamic shape and her advanced boundary-layer control, we replaced the standard seven-blade propeller with pump-jet propulsors.”

“The same propulsion system used aboard the Seawolf?”

“Yes, Mr. Nunziata, except Seawolf has one pump-jet propulsor. Goliath has five. Each assembly is powered by a brand-new ultraquiet S6W nuclear reactor. With all five jets running, Goliath can reach sixty-five to seventy knots, which means—”

“—which means even our fastest boats can’t begin to stay with her,” the Secretary of the Navy finishes.

“Even if they could catch her, they’d still have to find her,” Rocky adds. “Pump-jet propulsors are far quieter than screws, and Goliath’s shape was designed for both speed and stealth. When she lies flat along the bottom, she’s absolutely invisible to sonar, her hull reflections the same as sand. Even when she’s moving, her HY-150 metallic skin and sound-absorbent plates make her as difficult to detect as a B-2 bomber flying at high altitudes. Goliath’s inner hull is lined with layers of antidetection tiles, and each deck compartment rests on rubber housings to prevent rattling. The latest low-observable designs and turbulence suppressors help keep her presence cloaked, even to our most sophisticated towed sonar arrays. She’s the equivalent of an underwater Stealth bomber—big, fast, and near impossible to detect.”

Rocky adjusts the 3-D image, magnifying the forward section of the hull. “As you can see, Goliath has no periscope. Using the Virginia’s design, we replaced the optical periscope with an electromagnetic and electro-optics suite, providing visual images to her skeleton crew via large-screen displays in the ship’s control room. The photonics mast is positioned just above the control room.” She points to the raised section of the bow representing the stingray’s head.

“Are those windows?” Gray Ayers asks, pointing to the stingray’s eyes.

Rocky nods. “It’s a structural engineer’s nightmare, but some of the old Russian subs had them, and the new crystalline-based materials have held up in depths. Our research showed foreign populations have instinctive reactions to certain shapes and images. The eyes add a psychological effect to the submarine’s looks. I can tell you firsthand that I was terrified watching it after it attacked the Ronald Reagan”

“Finish up,” the Bear instructs his daughter.

She nods. “Infrared and low-level-light image-enhancement features provide Goliath’s electronic eye with superior reconnaissance capabilities at night and in foul weather. Her bow-mounted and towed sonar arrays and Light Wide-Aperture Arrays dramatically enhance the sub’s ability to detect threats in shallow waters, and Goliath’s Acoustic Rapid COTS Insertion system gives her the best hull-mounted mine detection and avoidance capability on the ocean.”

Secretary Nunziata beckons her to stop. “You said skeleton crew. What did you mean by that?”

Rocky sits back. “Goliath was designed big because she’s a prototype, Mr. Secretary, the first of what was to be a new generation of unmanned submersibles. The ship was designed to be operated by Sorceress, a supercomputer called a CAEN system, a Chemically Assembled Electronic Nanocomputer. Sorceress was designed by Covah and Dr. Elizabeth Goode, to be built in a joint venture between American Microsystems Corporation and DARPA’s Distributed Robotics Program, funded entirely by the DoD. The science is called nanotechnology, first proposed by Nobel physicist Richard Feynman back in the 1950s. The name is derived from the word ‘nanometer,’ a unit of measure equaling a billionth of a meter. In fact, a nanocomputer’s fundamental components measure only dozens of atoms. The smaller size of the computer circuitry allows for a tremendous increase in memory capacity, while breakthroughs in biomolecular-silicon interfacing dramatically improve computing speed.”

“How dramatic?”

“Potentially billions of times faster than a silicon chip.”

“Billions?”

“Yes, sir. Imagine packing the power of today’s supercomputers into packages the size of pinheads. The technology is housed in Sorceress. Essentially, we’re talking about a miracle of engineering—an artificial computerized brain constructed from both silicon and carbon-based molecular components. Information is harnessed using bioengineered bacteria, which coat themselves with a thin layer of silicon.”

Rocky pauses, wondering if she’s getting too technical.

“Go on,” the president urges, “we’re with you. You say this bacterium is coated with silicon?”

“Yes, sir. The bacteria represent what had been the missing link between traditional silicon hardware and the new bioware. With Simon Covah’s help, Dr. Goode successfully developed genetically altered clones of an original bacterium, each species capable of performing distinct computational tasks. These programmable critters, as she called them, evolved independently, allowing them to search a solution space for answers, performing evolutionary algorithms at unprecedented speeds. What’s more, they interface perfectly with silicon components. Silicon chips incorporate a binary code of zeros and ones. DNA code is digital, utilizing four symbols: A, T, C, and G, which correspond to the four nucleic acids which make up DNA.”

Rocky stops, realizing from their looks that she has gone too “high-tech” on her superiors.

“Commander, in a nutshell, what can Sorceress do?”

“The question is what can’t she do. The system’s DNA strands enable its biochemical brain to process and store far more information—approximately ten to the tenth power greater—than even the most massive electronic supercomputer made.”

“Incredible …”

“Sorceress is a prototype, sir. The system was to represent the birth of a new generation of computers, designed to reproduce, evolve, and improve itself every moment it was running.”

“Evolve?” The president looks concerned. “Evolve in what way?”

“Dr. Goode designed Sorceress to be self-repairing, its components engineered to self-improve in accuracy and efficiency with each new generation of bacteria processed. The bacteria themselves were engineered as facultative anaerobes, which thrive in a variety of environments and can efficiently metabolize nutrients, which are constantly generated by Sorceress’s internal recycling system.”

More confused looks.

“In essence, sir, Sorceress was programmed with a simple prime directive: to learn.”

“Not sure I like the sound of that,” the president says. “Sir, without Dr. Goode involved, I seriously doubt Simon Covah could have completed the computer’s engineering.”

Nunziata does not look convinced. “Where is Dr. Goode? How do we know she isn’t involved in any of this?”

The Bear glances down at the Secretary of State. “Dr. Goode is apolitical and averse to any sort of violence. I can assure you, she had nothing to do with Covah’s espionage.”

“She designed Sorceress, General,” the president retorts. “She should be at this briefing.”

“Mr. President, Elizabeth Goode vehemently opposed placing Sorceress aboard the Goliath, or any weapons platform, for that matter.”

Secretary Nunziata stands, circling the conference table like a predator. “Director Pertic says this Covah character hijacked the sub with a crew of seven. How many men does it actually take to operate Goliath?”

“Seven would be sufficient,” Rocky answers.

“Potentially none,” Gunnar states.

“None?” The secretary looks shocked. “A sub this large—without a crew? Is that true, Commander?”

Rocky shoots Gunnar a hard look. “No, sir. Not without Sorceress.”

“Assume the worst, Commander. What if this computer brain is on board the Goliath?”

“Then, theoretically, yes, the sub could become self-sufficient. Every compartment aboard the Goliath contains visual, acoustic, and voice-activated sensor arrays, allowing Sorceress to monitor every station twenty-four hours a day. The engine room, reactor room, weapons, control room, life-support systems—all were designed to be controlled by the central computer.”

“What about chores involving physical manipulation, say the loading of a torpedo?”

“Goliath’s weapons bays and loading compartments have been equipped with the latest robotic arms. All watertight doors and hatches possess pneumatic pistons that can be opened or sealed by Sorceress within seconds.”

“And how does Sorceress receive its orders?”

“The captain relays commands through a master control station located on the conn, although I wouldn’t be surprised if Covah’s developed a voice-activated system by now. Again, Mr. President, the chances of Covah having Sorceress on board are remote, at best.”

“What about weapons? What’s this thing armed with?”

“Our version of the Goliath contained two weapons bays, one located in each forward compartment of the sub’s wings. Each bay contains three torpedo tubes. Twelve pairs of vertical launch silos are housed within her spine, along with twenty-four surface-to-air missile tubes and two 20-mm guns, which protrude behind the stingray’s head like horns.

“Based on the attack on the Jacksonville and Hampton,” General Jackson interrupts, “we know she’s heavily armed with Chinese 533-mm torpedoes, which don’t have the range of our own Mk-48s.”

“Yes,” Rocky says, “but Goliath’s sensor array can program its weapons to act as antitorpedo torpedoes, which means she’s capable of intercepting another sub’s incoming projectiles before they can strike.”

“I want to know more about her launch capabilities,” the president interrupts.

“Yes, sir. The ship’s missile silos were designed to launch our newest Tomahawk cruise missile, but the system can easily be adapted to accommodate other SLAMs.”

“Tell us about these remote minisubs, Commander,” General Ben-Meir says.

Rocky changes the image. A sleek submersible appears before them, its shape matching that of a hammerhead shark, except for its smooth hydrodynamic curves and tail fin, which houses a small pump-jet propulsor.

“The Goliath’s minisubs were designed by Gunnar Wolfe,” says Rocky. “Why don’t we let him explain them.”

Nunziata turns to Gunnar. “Go on, Captain.”

Gunnar stares at the original drawings he had sketched years earlier. A lifetime ago …

“For the record, these subs were intended to be piloted by Navy SEALS and used during covert—”

“Just tell us how the damn things work,” Nunziata snaps.

Gunnar stares at the image revolving in midair. “The Hammerhead minisub is a ROSAV, or Remotely Operated Submersible Attack Vehicle, based on the same concept used by our Unmanned Aerial Vehicles. As you can see, the vehicle resembles the contours of a hammerhead shark—”

“Why?” the president interrupts.

“Maneuverability and reconnaissance. The hammerhead shark allows for the best hydrodynamic performance while offering an acceptable and intimidating camouflage. Sensors in the dorsal fin enable Goliath’s computer to scan enemy shorelines without appearing suspicious.”

“How many of these Hammerheads does Covah have?” Pertic asks.

“The Goliath’s hangar deck was designed to support twelve minisubs, all of which were housed in docking stations along the underside of the mother ship’s belly. Each minisub is remotely linked to Sorceress.”

“Again, you’re assuming the computer’s been activated,” Austin Tapscott chimes in.

“Sorceress was Simon’s baby,” Gunnar says. “In my opinion, he couldn’t have hunted down the carrier fleet without it.”

“So says you,” Rocky interrupts.

Gunnar ignores her. “Within each shark’s bow is a small, high-pressure launch tube capable of firing a minitorpedo.”

“Powerful enough to take out a carrier?” asks the president.

“No,” Gunnar answers. “They were designed to disable another submarine’s screw. My guess is Covah used platter mines to sink the fleet.” He points to the three-dimensional design. “See here? Concealed beneath the Hammerhead’s belly are a pair of three-pronged mechanical claws—claspers—capable of transporting and attaching underwater mines to the keels of enemy ships.”

Secretary Ayers turns to Rocky. “Do you concur, Commander? Is this what destroyed our fleet?”

“It makes sense, sir. Ship-to-ship radio contact underwater is nearly impossible. Goliath communicates to its minisubs by a form of acoustics similar to echolocation. The underwater transmission resembles the sounds emitted by orcas. I heard that clicking sound just before the attack on the CVBG, but … it was too late.”

“I’ve heard enough,” President Edwards says. “General Ben-Meir, what are we doing to stop this thing?”

“Sir,” Ben-Meir clears his throat, “at this point we can’t even find it, let alone stop it.”

The president’s gaunt face flushes red. “Is that what you recommend I tell the American people, General? That we can’t find the goddamn thing, let alone stop it?”

General Jackson raises an index finger, gaining the president’s attention. “May I suggest, sir, that we announce nothing, at least not yet.”

“Thousands of sailors are dead, General. How do we justify our silence?”

“Covah had little difficulty tracking down our CVBG. In my opinion, he must have other operatives working within the Armed Forces. We need to flush them out before we set any plan in motion. We need to keep this operation on a need-to-know basis.”

“Agreed,” Secretary Ayers says. “Naval Ops has a dozen search-and-rescue vessels heading into the battle zone, including the USS Parche, which can use its remote cameras to analyze the wreckage. We need to maintain silence about this incident, at least until we’ve gathered sufficient information to formulate a plan of action.”

“And how do we protect our search-and-rescue boats?” Nunziata asks.

“Our P-3 Orion sub hunters have orders to scour the sea with sonar buoys to protect the ships within the target zone. We’ll need to alert our submarine commanders, but I concur with General Jackson. Let’s keep a tight lid on this thing until we can at least assess the damage, inside and out.”

The Bear looks his daughter squarely in the eye. “In the meantime, Commander Jackson will begin assembling her old design team.”

“My old team?”

“That’s right. I’ve already alerted officials at NUWC to make arrangements to reopen the Keyport facility. Your people conceived this monster, Commander. Now you’re going to figure out a way to stop it.”