Sharef found his dizziness returning, the tilting pitching deck starting his fall. He had toppled halfway to the deck before Tawkidi caught hold of him. Sharef thought himself fortunate to have the devotion of someone as dedicated and capable as Tawkidi, as well as Quzwini and the rest of the men. For an instant he wondered if he were becoming delirious, all of this gushing thought about his crew members. The aftereffects of his concussion? Great thing, to be in command of a submarine under attack by multiple torpedoes, with the commander getting a fuzzy mind. He hoped Tawkidi would watch and know the proper moment to take over if he had to. And that if he did, he would stand up to Sihoud. He could not do any more coaching now. Either his crew had the character and the training to fight their way out of this mess, or they died.

“Negative function SCM, Commander. It’s dead. We’ll have to evade on speed alone.”

“Commodore, we could insert a delouse and hope for the best, but I think I’m just going to run north. There’s plenty of navigational room, and all the weapons are coming in from one bearing, astern to the south. And there’s no need to engage the Second Captain in ship-control mode.”

“Agreed, Commander.” Sharef moved closer to the navigation display, checking water depth from the computer memory, the ice-profile generated from a satellite shot loaded into the system just before sailing, updated by the Second Captain’s latest predictions. There was no telling the range to the torpedoes, but based on the Second Captain’s detection ranges using the forward hydrophones, they must be distant. And given the fact that the American torpedoes were slow, there was a good chance that the ship would outrun the weapons and remain whole. In fact, he believed, whoever had fired on them had committed a tactical error, firing at a distance from a single bearing. As soon as the Nagasakis were fired down the bearings to the incoming torpedoes, the firing ship was doomed.

“Tubes ten and twelve ready, track search mode loaded for an immediate turn to the south. Commodore. Request to launch.”

“Launch ten and twelve.”

Within twenty seconds two Nagasaki torpedoes left their tubes at the bow of the Hegira, executed rapid 180degree turns to the south and sped to the target.

As the weapons left the Hegira behind, the Hegira began closing the distance to the American 688class submarine, which was running northwest, the American vessel some thirty clicks slower. Now within ten kilometers, the Second Captain system was still unable to pick her noise out of the sea from the interference of the highly increased own-ship noise of the seawater flow and propulsion machinery …

Chapter 32

Saturday, 4 January

FORT MEADE, MARYLAND, HEADQUARTERS, NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY BUILDING 427

SECURE COMMUNICATIONS FACILITY

When Admiral Donchez had shut his eyes after his phone conversation with General Barczynski, the snow had been two feet deep on the roads, drifting up to four. Now another foot of snow had blanketed the flats. Donchez dreamed of snow falling, snow colored black, of streets lined with bodies buried in the deadly flakes. When he was nudged awake it was a relief.

“Message for you, sir. Navy Blue.”

Donchez put the clipboard down on the abandoned console section in front of him. The message was from the Seawolf, and its body was a one-liner: WE ARE NOW ENGAGING THE DESTINY. He waved over the communications tech sergeant.

“Copy this over to General Barczynski’s personal TS fax machine at Fairfax. You know the code?”

“Yes sir.”

LABRADOR SEA, NORTHWEST OF GODTHAAB, GREENLAND

USS PHOENIX

“Right full rudder, all ahead flank! Steady course three five zero. Dive, make your depth 1,000 feet. Sonar, Captain, do you have the torpedoes?”

Kane felt sweat break out under his arms, in the middle of his chest and

between his legs. He could feel his respiration rate rise. The deck trembled with the sudden maneuver. He had the definite feeling that the ship would not be able to take another Nagasaki hit. It was, literally, outrun or die.

“Conn, sonar, yes, on the edge of the port baffles. And one thing, sir. The incoming torpedoes do not have characteristics of the Nagasakis. These are … Mark 50s.”

Sanderson sounded as if he was angry at Kane himself.

“Say again, sonar.”

“Captain, incoming torpedoes are Mark 50 units launched from the south. The attacking submarine is here early.”

Mcdonne cursed. “Can’t they do anything right?”

“XO, get on the horn to Schramford aft and tell him to crank up the power again, like he did last time.” Kane keyed his mike. “Sonar, Captain, what’s the status of Target One?”

“He’s in the baffles, sir. I’m looking for him to emerge on the edge of the starboard baffles. I’m also checking the towed array end-beam, but at this speed the old array is losing signal-to-noise ratio pretty quick.”

“Keep looking.” What else could he say, Kane wondered.