Silent Thunder

TWENTY

Christ, they'd done it. They'd done it. They'd done it!

The movement was lumbering and sluggish, but the sub was actually moving, Ha

"Get up here, Ha

She was already on her way. A moment later she entered the engine room to see Kirov watching the monitor as the Silent Thunder drew close to the museum fence.

She tensed as the sub drew closer.

Closer.

Then suddenly the Silent Thunder was on top of the fence.

The sub plowed over the fence without the slightest bit of resistance!

"Hallelujah," she murmured.

Too soon. Alarm sirens sounded deep within the submarine.

Kirov turned toward her. "What the hell is that?"

"The museum must have installed an alarm after what happened to Co

Kirov ran to the periscope, flipped down the handles and peered into the eyepiece. "We should clear the harbor with no problem, but our maneuverability is extremely limited. You'd better get what you need from the navigational computer in a hurry."

She turned to the computer. "Are we almost finished booting up?"

"Another minute or so."

Hurry.

Be ready.

She quickly pulled open a drawer in the command center, looked inside, and moved to the next one. Find it.

Please let it be in the next drawer. No luck. It wasn't in the next one or the drawer after that.

Kirov frowned. "What the devil are you doing?"

"I have to find it…"

"What are you looking for?"

Thank heavens. There it was.

She finally pulled a package of Beeman's chewing gum from the drawer. "Co

"Fu

"Can't stand the stuff." She unwrapped several sticks and shoved them into her mouth.

"Well, that clears things up." He turned toward the computer. "Whatever you plan to do, you'd better start doing it."

She picked up a stool and swung it toward a small speaker mounted over the hatch. She struck it repeatedly until the speaker housing splintered and the coil dangled from the bulkhead, gripped the magnet in her hands, and yanked it free. "Keep your radio on. I'm heading up."

Pavski turned the steering wheel and spun into the marina parking lot two miles south of the maritime museum. He glanced at the harbor, where the Silent Thunder's co

Koppel peered though his binoculars. "They're heading straight out to sea. If they manage to submerge…"

"They won't. They don't have the equipment or manpower to pull that off. It's a miracle they managed to get it out there." He leaped from the van and ran to the gangway, his gaze frantically sca

Slow-as-molasses sailboats, pleasure craft, and houseboats.

Nothing fast enough, he realized with frustration. He needed power and speed and enough space for him and his men. Not these pussy-

Wait a second.

There, only twenty yards in front of him, a narrow-beam powerboat stood at the ready.

Perfect.

Ha

Diesel fumes. Thick, nauseating.

The alarm sirens pounded her brain.

Keep steady…

She adjusted her headset. "Support team, do you read me?"

Kirov responded. "May I point out that I'm the one standing on the bridge? Now you're the support team."

"I stand corrected. Is the navigational computer receiving magnetic compass readings from the repeaters?"

"Affirmative."

She climbed up the ladder until she found herself facing the sub's magnetic compass module. Surrounded by metal coils to shield it from stray magnetic forces of the hull, this compass was generally only used early in the sub's voyages. The more accurate gyroscopic compass took several hours to calibrate itself after powering up. This was the only game in town.

One of her first recommendations had been to remove the compass and place it in the exhibit building, where it could be more easily seen by museumgoers. Thank goodness the crew hadn't gotten to it yet.

Hooking one foot around the railing for balance, she leaned forward and placed several magnets on its metallic face.

"The readings are fluctuating," Kirov said.

"Good. Longitude or latitude?"

"Both, but mostly longitude."

Ha

"Yes. We're way off right now-about eighty-five degrees north."

Ha

"Better. Seventy-two degrees."

Ha

Ha

"It's drifting."

"That's because we're moving. I'll make more adjustments after I get the latitude. Ready?"

Kirov was silent for a moment. "Make it fast, Ha

The salt water sprayed Pavski's face as the powerboat neared the Silent Thunder. He pointed to the co

Koppel turned from the wheel. "Where should we approach?"

"At the stern. There are cleats to tie off there. We'll climb on top, plant the charges, and blow the rear escape hatch. Got it?"

Koppel nodded, staring ahead at the dark leviathan cutting through the water. "It's amazing."

"What?"

"There's still life in that old sub. I didn't know she had it in her."

"It's a relic," Pavski said. "Just like Kirov."

Koppel eased back on the throttle as they pulled alongside the Silent Thunder's massive tail fins. The sub's engine knocked and rattled, and the pungent smoke of burned diesel fuel wafted over them.

"Take the rope and snag one of those cleats."

It took two tries, but one of the sailors managed to do it.

"Good!" Pavski yelled over the engine. "Pull us closer."

A moment later they were bumping against the hull and tying off the rope.

Pavski picked up his two backpacks and tossed them onto the Silent Thunder's topside deck.

"The three of you climb aboard," Koppel said. "I'll keep the boat steady."

Pavski shot him a cold glance. "I need you in there too, Koppel."

"After you're on, I'll cut the engines and climb aboard myself. Go!"

As they left the relatively calm waters of the harbor, Pavski and the others jumped from the boat and used a series of small crevices in the Silent Thunder's rubbery acoustic coating to pull themselves up to the top deck. "Careful. The seas are getting rougher."

Koppel cut the powerboat's ignition and climbed up to join them. "Aren't the hatches stronger than the rest of the sub?" he shouted.

Pavski was already digging into his knapsack for the explosive charges. "Trust me, two of these charges on the devices on the rear hatch will put us face-to-face with Kirov in less than five minutes."

Ha

"Give it up," Kirov said over the radio. "It was always a long shot."

"I can't give it up. Pavski's not going to get that cradle. If I can just move it another few degrees…"