Asterion (20 page)

Taylor shakes his head. “How could this happen here, in America?”

“It’s worse than you think. The rest of the world is watching and they are getting nervous.”

Christine sighs, “Great. If any doubts still lingered about our actions, they are gone now. We have to stop him.”

As the light of the day fades, they leave the safety of the woods and drive to the beach. Milar turns off the highway and travels a dirt road that stops at the beach. Hidden in the bushes, an inflatable raft and survival gear await Milar for her escape.

Inflating the raft and checking her gear she gets ready to shove off. She looks up with sorrow on her face at Taylor and Christine. “This is going to be bigger than we can imagine. Unfortunately, we are in the middle of it. Whether we like it or not, the fate of the world depends on us and our comrades and allies. God bless you and keep you safe.” She shoves off and turns her head toward the sea.”

Christine smiles, “I thought you “didn’t practice”?”

Milar looks back with a smile tinged with sadness, “I don’t practice, but I do dabble.”

Taylor waves and shouts, “We’ll pray for you. Be careful.”

Milar nods her head and turns toward the sea again. A single tear rolls down her cheek as she mumbles, “We’ll all need it.”

She sees a signal flashing out code in the darkness. She flashes the code word back in the direction of the light. She thinks, “Great, I can get out of this raft and rest for a while.”

She hears a watercraft’s engines spin up and spotlights scan the water. She realizes this is not her ride. Fifty calibers start barking with tracers streaking in the air. They are getting close to their target. She rolls off the raft and dives. She swims away from the raft and surfaces a short distance away. Watching the patrol boat search around the raft, she hears a tapping noise. It’s code for hang on. She turns around and stares straight into a periscope. She grabs on and it slowly moves away from the patrol boat.

When they are a mile or so away from the patrol boat, the sub slowly starts surfacing and Milar stands on the conning tower. The hatch opens; she enters the sub and closes the hatch behind her. “Hatch secured!”

The captain, a lean greying man in his mid-forties with greying temples and short-cropped beard, shouts out orders to the crew to dive and set a course for Israel. Turning to Milar, “This is not a random patrol. They tracked your usage of the Embassy card.”

“That is a violation of policy.”

“Yes, it does not look like things will get better soon. Tensions between Burnsom and Israel are growing. His lack of support for us and our support of the freedom movement has driven a wedge between us. It does not look good.”

“My friends, they must know where they are now. We have to help them.”

The captain looks sternly at her. “There is nothing we can do. I’m sorry, but they must make it on their own. It is too dangerous to help them. I have a stateroom available for you. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

The sonar operator turns to the captain, “Sir, twin screws headed our way.

“Heading, distance and speed?”

“One hundred seventy degrees, one kilometer and thirty-five knots.”

“Closing fast. Helmsmen right rudder thirty degrees and down elevator twenty degrees. Full speed ahead. Sounding?”

“Depth is only two hundred meters here sir.”

“Take us down one ninety.”

“Sir, that’s below safety …”

“Noted, my call.”

“Yes, sir. Level at one ninety.”

The captain turns to Milar, “Don’t lean against the wall. Depth charge shock will kill you. You’re an intelligence officer, take that seat and monitor their communications.”

“Yes sir.” Milar takes the seat, puts on the headphone and starts listening to the chatter.

The captain is drenched with sweat. He looks at the sonar operator, “Status?”

“Five hundred meters.”

“Helmsman, Left standard rudder, thirty five degrees.”

“Left standard rudder, thirty five degrees.”

“XO, rig for silent running.”

“Yes sir.”

Milar turns to the captain, “They have other ships coming and they are readying depth charges. They also know we are Israeli.”

“Sir I’m getting several contacts from different directions converging on our position.”

“All silent.”

“All silent sir.”

The sub slows to a stop. All equipment on board becomes quiet except for the pings of the sonar. The sub soon becomes hot and sticky and the air is stale.

Topside, several patrol boats escort a few cruisers. They surround their prey and one by one, they enter the circle and start dropping their depth charges. One by one they explode sending a blast to the surface that erupts on the surface sending water high into the air.

The pinging of the sonar and the pounding of the depth charges stresses the crew. With each ping, the time between them decreases and the charges get closer.

“The captain looks at the XO, “Launch the tow.”

“Yes sir, launching tow.”

From under the sub, a sleek tow lowers and motors off quickly. Shaped like an aircraft it leaves a minimal wake for the topside ships to hone in on and it intermittently spins its propellers on and off to confuse them further. Trailing a cable behind it, the ship pays it out until it is almost at the end. The cable spool starts to brake and the sub lurches silently forward.

The captain turns to the chief of the boat and whispers, “Release our garbage and some oil.”

“Yes, sir. It’s done.”

The crew reports debris and oil on the surface. The captain remarks, “Either we got them or they are trying to play possum. Either way, we’ll sit here until we’re sure. The cruiser’s sonar operator turns to the captain, “Sir, I getting an odd signal.”

“What do you mean sailor.”

“It’s almost fish like. No wake and occasional turbulence, not like a screw but like fins.”

“It’s probably a countermeasure to draw us off this location so they can slip away from us. We won’t fall for it. They can’t move without revealing where they are. Keep listening, they won’t get away.”

“Yes, sir.”

Milar whispers to the captain, “They are sitting tight. They think the tow is a countermeasure.”

“Good”

The sub slowly and silently skims just over the sea floor. The sonar pings frequency slows as they are towed to safety.

“Sir, five kilometers away from targets.”

“Reel it in.”

While the tow is still pulling them they retrieve the cable until the tow is secured in its bay.

“Full speed ahead”

“Full speed ahead, sir”

“Helmsman, right rudder fifteen degrees. Come about to one hundred and sixty degrees. Make depth seventy-five meters.”

“Right rudder fifteen degrees, coming about to one hundred and sixty degrees.”

“Depth at seventy-five meters.”

The captain turns to Milar, “That is an act of war, Intentional and without restraint.”

“It appears that way. I think we know where we stand now.”

“Yes without a doubt. You should get some rest now. We’re heading to port.”

“Yes, sir.”

Milar makes her way to the stateroom where she can clean up and rest. Lying on the cot, her mind swims with apprehension wondering about her friends.

On the surface, the captain of the lead cruiser is on a video conference with Burnsom.

“What do you mean you don’t know if they are still down there?”

“It’s been quiet down there for hours. They can’t stay like that much longer.”

“Drop charges on them.”

“We have sir, but we are listening for them.”

“Just drop stuff on them. Get some more ships out there and let them drop stuff on them.”

“Get the job done. They can’t be allows to leave.”

“Sir we’re dropping all we have now. More assets are on the way and sub hunting aircraft will be on station soon.”

“Good.” Burnsom switches the monitor off and turns to Tom.

“Naval exercises?”

“Good, that will be the story. Tom, if she gets away, it’s a sure bet that the Israelis will side with them.”

“They’re small, but their technology is great.”

“Yes, but we can crank out those beasts quicker than they can manufacture their technology. Attrition my friend, attrition is the key. Overwhelming your enemy wins every time. Give their technology too much to handle and the system breaks down.”

“Well, as long as the cost in human life is light.”

“That it will be, that it will be my friend.”

Tom starts toward the door, “Anything else?”

“Oh, if they don’t get that spy, have the head of the Navy called to my office.”

“Some court-martials?”

“At least”

Tom laughs and closes the door behind him.

Back on the beach, Taylor and Christine sit on the hood of the car enjoying the cool sea breeze and the rhythmic crashing of the waves. They hear the machine gun fire and the flashes of light and tracers just a mile off the beach. Looking at each other, they jump into the car and start heading west, down the back roads toward the safety of the province.

Taylor looks at Christine. “They must know we’re here and we were sitting on the beach like idiots.”

“Yea, we can’t afford to be careless.”

“No”

“I hope she made it.”

“Oh my God, suppose they got her.”

“There’s no way of knowing now. All I know is that a lot of good people have suffered to help us.”

“And we’ve yet to help the cause. I feel guilty.”

“Me to, and the worst part is we inadvertently helped Burnsom.”

“Great, I wasn’t thinking of that. We have to get to South Central. We have to help”

“Agreed.”

Traveling in the night, they felt safer. In silence, they wonder and worry.

Traveling west, they leave the main highway to avoid detection and travel down a lonely country road. Following the map and directions, they get to the marked tree near the riverbank. They find a clicker and Taylor signals the sequence from the directions. They hear clicking and Christine checks the directions. “That’s it.”

Moving down the bank, they see a figure standing by a boat on the edge of the water. Looking at the man, Taylor’s eyes light up, “Sarge!”

A huge imposing man with lines on his face showing the years of hard work and exposure to the elements stands before them. He reaches out and shakes Taylor’s hand. “How you doin’ Captain? Or should I say former captain?”

“Former is about right. I didn’t know you are our contact”

“Well, who else could get you through the swamp and into the province?”

“Taylor looks at Christine and introduces Sarge to her. “Sarge’s real name is Samuel Latcholet. We served together in the military and he was my guide when I gathered DNA samples from the area.”

Sarge, every bit the quintessential John Wayne eats steel and spit out nails sergeant. Born in the swamp he knew how to fight and survive. He reaches down and shakes Christine’s hand. He stands straight up, alerted to a noise only he heard. “We have to go.”

They get into the boat and quietly paddle across the river, letting the current carry them down stream and quickly out of sight.

Griggs and his men look out over the river, but they drifted downstream by that time. Asterion steps out of the trees. “Why are we stopping?”

“We are as far as our control of the area permits. Even rural areas can be tricky. This swampy area has close ties to the opposition and they know what freedom is like over the border. We don’t have many friendlies here. Only you can chase them now. We have notified local authorities, so if caught, they will be detained. When you do what you need to do or it gets too dangerous, contact us. We have choppers disguised as medevac aircraft. You can order supplies, weapons, medical supplies and food. We can reach you in short order.”

Asterion gathers up his equipment and turns away from Griggs. “You’ll hear from me.”

“Good luck.” Griggs turns and orders his men back into the woods. They stay at a government safe house. Burnsom used many confiscated mansions as places to conduct clandestine operations out in the field.

CHAPTER 23 - CLOSE QUARTERS

Asterion inflates the oversized raft and crosses the river. Raising his nose in the air he sniffs and smiles. The hunt is on.

Taylor, Christine and Sarge abandon the skiff they used to float across the river. Sarge pushes it back in the river current and it silently drifts with the current. “We don’t want their tracker to get a good scent.” He turns around and points up the bank. “Our next ride is across the levee.”

They work their way up the hill with Sarge leading the way, clearing brush and looking out for the many ways injury and death can come to one in the swamps. They struggle against the heat and humidity. Even in the middle of the night, it can be oppressive. Mosquitos and gnats are relentless in their pursuit. The repellent keeps them at bay, but their close buzzing and flying are still annoying.