Paths of Courage (13 page)

K449 had gingerly edged her way 1,200 miles northward up the Argentina coastline without incident at around ten knots and at a depth of 500 feet. Keeping as close to the shore as possible, they hid in its busy sea lanes and the cacophony of coastal noises. The Russian Delta III submarine followed a course Captain Kamani hoped would take them undetected, right up to the North Atlantic. The crew were now fully conversant with all of the submarine's operational and weaponry systems. It took endless hours of training and practice, but the repetition of daily routine was beginning to tell, fostering boredom, despite each day bringing them closer to the glory of Islam and to the glory of Allah.

Captain Asad Kamani and his XO, Lieutenant Hamid Zaha, were totally focused on the running of the ship and on the task ahead. The elation at entering the Atlantic without detection had been a great boost to morale, proving that Allah was providing protection. Both men were hunched over the chart table studying detailed maps of the South American eastern seaboard, North Atlantic and the Caribbean Sea.

“Unless something unforeseen happens, we keep to the plan,” said the captain. “We stay close in all the way; follow the Brazilian coastline until reaching the Windward Islands. Then we shall turn north, keeping to the west of these islands, track along the Puerto Rico Trench, then head north to the release point. Once released, the
Stingray
will take less than five minutes to reach the target, leaving insufficient time for the infidel to intercept.”

The lieutenant looked up. “The continental shelf slopes sharply away at those coordinates, 600 feet to 6,000. That's a big drop. I still think we should make our escape in the noisy coastal waters; we will be extremely vulnerable out in the deep.”

“Lieutenant, Allah will protect us. We have been through this many times. The coordinates were chosen so that we could, if necessary, go deep immediately after release and hug the ocean floor along the shelf. The sheer background of rock will confuse enemy sonar and protect us on our run back to the rendezvous.”

Kamani prayed inwardly that he was right, hoping, too, that the Libyan freighter acquired specifically for this one operation would be at the RV. Here, after scuttling K449 in deep water, he and the crew would be transferred and bound for Africa.

“Remember, Lieutenant,” Kamani continued, “we will be in deep water for over 1,400 miles from the Leewards. But I take your point; we need to be extremely careful. It is essential we get away from the release area as quickly as possible. Following the shelf line will allow us to do that before enemy subs invade the area.”

The lieutenant nodded reluctant acceptance and said, “At the current speed it will take thirty-five days to reach the coordinates; the men are becoming restless. They had not expected such a long journey. All ship systems have been thoroughly mastered; we are as ready at this point as we ever will be.” He paused for a reaction; none came, so he pressed on. “As we have not encountered the enemy since leaving the Strait, I respectfully suggest that we consider increasing speed. An increase to fifteen knots would take off ten days.”

Captain Kamani glanced around the control room, taking in each man as he went quietly about his duties. He understood clearly what his XO was saying; he too felt impatient at the time it was taking to strike at the infidel. Perhaps he was being a little too cautious. If they had been allowed to follow their original plan, glory would have been theirs by now. He let the lieutenant's suggestion hang in the air before deciding if the slightly higher risk of detection by increasing speed in these noisy coastal waters was worth it to make the strike earlier.

After a minute or two of consideration, he turned to the XO. “I agree, Lieutenant.” Then to the helmsman, he commanded, “Maintain course and depth. Increase speed to fifteen knots.”

The day after they discovered the mountain entrance, Ryder was awakened by Chol mid-morning, following a good night's sleep, which he had badly needed to quell the mind-numbing fatigue. The group had made camp about a mile from the entrance in a short, concealed gully with steep sides, protected on both ends by dense bush. It was just narrow enough to defend and escape should they be discovered. Each of the others tried to get as much rest as they possibly could; all knew the next phase of the mission would be the most testing and the most dangerous – particularly for Grace. The weather was overcast but warm and they hoped for some rain to top up their water supplies, which were now getting low.

“How're we going in – through the front door?” Song asked as he ate a handful of rice.

“The entrance cavern looked like an airlock. Even if we get through the front, I doubt we'll get through the back doors. As I see it: to try and fight our way in is not a viable option,” Chol answered, sucking on a strip of dried meat.

“As inmates then?” questioned Bom.

“Could be weeks before the next batch arrives,” said Chol. “Setting up near the entrance, or somewhere along the road, would increase the chances of discovery.”

“How would we get into the columns without the guards knowing?” Bom asked. “You saw the head count at the camp and the recount at the entrance.”

“Create a diversion; distract the guards and scatter the inmates. In the confusion we move in as inmates,” said Song.

“That would mean killing five innocents,” said Grace, looking intently at the Korean.

“Unfortunately,” he replied. “But the lives of five who probably want to die anyway – like the loggers – are, I reckon, a small price to pay to avoid the possible consequences.”

For a second it looked as if she were going to challenge Song's easy disregard for human life, but she didn't.

Ryder agreed with Song, but decided to say nothing. He moved on. “As inmates, once inside, we probably won't get the chance to escape before they use us as their guinea pigs. We may even get jabbed as soon as we enter – Grace?” He looked at the doctor for confirmation.

“More likely separated into groups relating to age, gender, blood type, etc,” she quickly answered. “Then a stand-down period to decide what test regime is appropriate for each individual. That could take days, even weeks; much like we do with monkeys. If we're isolated in monitored cells, it will be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to get out without alerting somebody. If we cannot escape, I dread to think how we'll end up. Probably get searched in there too. Not a good idea to enter as an inmate in my opinion.”

Ryder glanced at the others. “You agree?”

They did.

“Okay, we look for another way in. Any ideas?”

Song reacted first. “Vent outlets? Air intakes?”

“The American sats picked up nothing – infra-red, ultra-sonic, heat probes… all negative,” said Bom.

“That may be, but we now know an underground facility exists; it has to have air intakes,” said Ryder, beginning to appreciate the magnitude of what they were contemplating. He felt a surge of fear. Now at the sharp end, he knew to keep cool. Fear could be the worst enemy if he let it, which could mean the difference between success or failure, life or death. Grace spoke and suddenly the surge was gone as quickly as it came.

“Any hot zone would have to include specialist air-con equipment – self-contained, not connected to any main system. We need to avoid intakes that lead directly into the specialist system for obvious reasons.”

“Be hard pressed to tell the difference,” said Ryder.

“More likely to be small,” Grace shot back, gaining her stride. “The main system would have fairly large intakes at a guess.”

“And probably large fans inside as well,” added Chol.

“I agree,” said Grace.

Silence prevailed, broken by Song. “Maybe we could hi-jack a supply truck and bluff our way in?”

“Could wait a long time for the right vehicle to show,” Ryder countered. “And we won't know if it's going to the camp or lab, unless we take it on the spur. That could be risky,” he paused and looked at the others in turn before reaching a decision. “We'll search for vents and hope to get lucky.”

“Assuming we find a way in, what's the MO?” Chol asked.

“Greg, Dan and myself will go in with Grace to watch her back. Cam, you wait at the point of entry.”

“And if something goes wrong?” Chol ventured.

“Wait forty-eight hours, then make your way back to the RV.”

Silence for a few moments, then Ryder looked steadily at Grace; she seemed deep in thought.

“Do we have a problem?”

Grace gave a slight start. “Not sure. Contemplating what we might find.”

“The virus?”

She nodded and fixed Ryder with a fearful look. “I'm hoping it's not what I suspect it might be.”

“Like what?” he asked.

All eyes fell on Grace. “Engineered smallpox,” she answered, voice slightly shaky.

“What's that?” shot Bom.

“The human IL-4 gene fused with natural smallpox virus would create what we call a super variola, totally immune to any known vaccine and super lethal to humans. This variole, Major, as far as we know, does not exist on the planet,” she answered with an edge to her voice.

“Variola?” questioned Chol.

“Scientific and medieval Latin name for smallpox,” Grace paused, looking intently at each of the men. “To my knowledge, no one has successfully created a super virus. If they have, believe me it would be devastating if let loose on humans. Suitably weaponized Interleukin-4 smallpox would be very, very dangerous indeed to the future of mankind. If the Koreans have managed to manufacture it, then we have a real scary situation on our hands.”

“Presumably they would have some kind of vaccine?” Song asked.

“If the Koreans are developing a super pox, then they would also be working on a vaccine. To do that, they would need to experiment on a lot of people to see if it worked.”

“That would not be a problem with the number of people we saw shunted into that mountain,” cut in Bom. “The commies don't seem to care shit about human suffering.”

Grace nodded and continued. “Briefly, in layman's terms, when the IL-4 gene is added to a poxvirus it stimulates the production of antibodies – too many, in fact. It confuses the host's immune system, causing a drop in white blood cells and destroying the host's cellular immunity, which allows infection to firmly take hold, much like AIDs, only a thousand times quicker. In theory, this principle should shut down the immune system, but, as yet, at least unofficially, no one has attempted, or managed, to insert the IL-4 gene into natural smallpox virus to make a super pox.”

“Except maybe the Koreans,” said Ryder, a little lost with the technical aspect; he suspected the others were too. Nevertheless, it added to the daunting task they were about to face, in particular Grace, who would have to get close and personal with the virus if they were to establish it existed. His respect for her grew.

“That's why we're here – to find out,” she replied. Her calmness returned, which reflected in her voice. “Smallpox itself was officially eradicated in 1979. They had removed from nature what we doctors considered the worst human disease of all time. It is the most dangerous virus known to man and generally believed to have killed more people than any other infectious pathogen – a billion people in its last hundred years of existence alone. You can imagine the devastation should an engineered smallpox be let loose.”

Silence descended, each of the men lost in his own thoughts.

Eventually, Chol asked Grace, “What can we expect once inside?”

“In terms of layout, your guess is as good as mine, but the first thing we have to do is find where the ID tags, masks, hats, lab overalls and boots are kept.”

“We'll wear the uniforms we have,” Ryder intervened, pointing towards the sacks. “We need to take out a female tech to get stuff for you.”

“Yes,” she replied. “Then we look for the hot zones. I suspect the testing labs will be relatively small; it may come down to only one of you accompanying me. I will be looking first for the likely lab either making the virus or testing it. Once in, I will need to focus intently on what I'm doing. Everything else I'll leave to whoever's my minder. Depending on what I find, we may have to go search for a vaccine too. If we have to enter a Level 4 zone, which I suspect we will, make sure you wear a space suit; your life will depend on it. Follow exactly what you learned at the briefings. Clearly understand: if you become contaminated, we will have no choice but to leave you behind.”

The men all glanced at Grace; they knew that should one of them go down, including the doctor, they must not be left behind alive to the mercy of the Koreans.

“And if we are questioned or challenged?” Song asked.

Ryder replied, “Talk your way out or discreetly eliminate the problem. We are here to give Grace every opportunity to complete her work and that's what we'll do, come rain or shine.”

“If we get the opportunity, do we destroy anything?” Bom asked.

“The prime objective is to get out with a vaccine for any virus we find – if one exists,” Ryder shot back, looking at Grace. “To do any real damage, explosives would be needed, which we don't have.”

She nodded. “However, if the power and air supply can somehow be taken out, this will go a long way to halting the production of any virus.”

Silence descended once again.

“Okay, if there's nothing else, we move out,” Ryder said finally, the scale and danger of what they were contemplating weighing heavily on his conscious.

They gathered up gear, left the gully and headed through the dense forest towards the mountain.

“Captain – sonar. Contact, designate Sierra Two. Submerged. Faint. Stand by.”

“Captain, aye,” replied Michael Curtis, commander of HMS
Ambush
from his seat in the centre of the control room. Then, a little impatiently, “Range and bearing. Resolve ambiguity.”

“Captain – sonar. Sierra Two, bearing two-nine-two, direct path. Range fifty miles. Losing contact.”

“Captain, aye.” He then swore under his breath before turning to the helmsman. “Make your course two-nine-two. Speed full ahead. Depth 300.”

“Aye, sir.”

HMS
Ambush
immediately veered to the left towards the Brazilian coastline.

“Captain – sonar. Contact lost. Translation negative.”

“Captain, roger.”

Curtis could hardly conceal his disappointment. The first hostile contact after a week of patrolling and they had to lose it just like the one off the coast of South Africa before heading to the Falklands.

“Could be Russian; no allied subs supposedly in this area. If it is, beats me how the hell it even got this far,” said the XO, standing next to the captain. “At that range, she's very close in; we'd be lucky to get a positive in all that coastal noise.”

“We'll give it a try anyway,” said Curtis, somewhat sharply. “We might get lucky if we move in close and go active.”

“We'll be vulnerable.”

“So be it. If that's one of the Russians we're looking for – and I'm betting it is – we have to take the risk. I have confidence in the ACs.” Curtis was referring to the submarine's UPA-4 acoustic countermeasure system to deflect incoming torpedoes.

“We are now at the northern extreme of the patrol area,” said Talbot. “We might just be chasing a shadow.”

“Remember the orders, Bob: we are at liberty to search at our discretion and that is exactly what we're going to do.”