Arabian Storm (The Hunter Killer Series Book 5) George Wallace (the little red hen ebook .TXT) 📖

water, bodies lying on decks, flames and smoke erupting from below. “Looks like our good friends, the Chinese, ran into a buzz saw. I’ll be real surprised if they keep the Sin Tzu afloat much longer. Not if they don’t get a handle on that fire.”

Donnegan nodded slowly, considering the carnage depicted in the images. Even considering all the bad things he had seen in his long career, the admiral still felt bad about needless loss of life. And especially among men and women who had chosen to defend their country. Regardless of the country.

“Yep. You probably saw we offered to help. But, as usual, they turned us down flat. They denied they even had assets in the area, let alone that they were mostly a bonfire at the moment. Bastards finally told the CNO that if they had ships in the area and if they were in any distress, it was their problem and they would fix it. They even had the gall to tell us to stay well clear.”

Ward shook his head. “Can’t say that I’m sorry to hear this. I wouldn’t want to be going into that area right about now. Not in a gray hull anyway. There’s no telling what that crazy Nabiin has up his sleeve next.”

“I suspect provocation and response is a big part of his plan.”

“I suspect you know what you’re talking about, boss.”

“Speaking of our good buddy Nabiin, you getting any word a’tall on where he might be squattin' down to take a shit on all that’s decent and right?” Donnegan queried.

Ward pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nothing since the one report that he was spotted in Al Ghaydah, Yemen. And we haven’t been able to verify that. I pinged Talbot since he has suddenly become so very helpful, but Mossad doesn’t have anything more. TJ Dillon checked in this morning. That guy is reliable as they come and rarely wrong, but he didn’t have anything new either. Not even our best sources in the field. That means nada all around. But Talbot did have something else that confirms what we suspected. He sent some journalist type named Tahib down to Chabahar to nose around. We now know that the Iranian SSB did get underway and she does have nukes onboard.”

“Glad we got backup confirmation. Everybody in the loop that needs to be?”

“Fifth Fleet has been notified. George Mason has been authorized weapons release if the Iranian sub shows even a hint of hostile intent.”

“I’m assuming that you made sure that ‘hostile intent’ means missile tube hatches swinging open.” Donnegan made quote signs with his fingers. “We sure as hell don’t want those crazy sons of bitches to light up the Mid-east with a mushroom cloud. But politically...”

The old admiral leaned back and swiped his forearm across his brow. “Besides, something tells me this is all part of the damn Prophet’s master plan. Everybody blaming and shooting at everybody else until the planet melts down. Maniac! Problem is, with today’s technology and firepower, it only takes one lunatic with enough charisma to attract a bunch of downtrodden followers and enough resources to cause a shit-load of destruction.” Donnegan took a deep breath. “Look, let’s keep digging. Information is what we need to stay ahead of this guy. And on that note, we need to figure out what the Chinese are going to do next. They’re acting like a caged tiger. About like we would, too, if somebody set one of our battlegroups afire. They want to hit back hard, but we all know they don’t have anything to hit. And not many choices of what to use to hit with, either. All we know is it looks like the attack was staged out of Socotra Island and Alhami on the Yemen coast. Nothing for the Chinese to hit at either place except sand and rocks. Even if they had ships left. They have a real problem with reach now. With that battle group gone, I don’t see them sending the PLAN that way anytime soon. And they damn sure ain’t asking us for help.”

Ward shook his head. “This is going to get very interesting. Not exactly in the wheelhouse of a couple of old submarine skippers, right?”

“Who you calling ‘old?”

Jon Ward cocked his head sideways and looked at his long-time friend.

“Okay, I admit I have a hard time trying to guess what a crazy son of a bitch hellbent on causing a global conflagration might do next, Tom.”

Donnegan took another sip of the cold coffee. The frown on his face, though, was not from the vile, bitter liquid.

“As I said, my boy, welcome to my world.”

28

Arman Dirbaz had been carefully watching the data on the fuel cells for several days. The corkscrew expression on his unshaven face confirmed that he was beginning to seriously worry about what he was seeing in the columns of numbers. The Russian-designed fuel cell technology on his brand-new Iranian submarine was, for certain, unproven. It had not yet been adequately tested on an operating submarine. The Boz-Manand was very much a guinea pig for doing this in real time, even as the new sub was being employed for propaganda purposes. The bluster could be accomplished just as easily within a few hours of home port, and issues with the ship’s systems could be addressed promptly and efficiently. But not while plowing through open seas far from home, and to who knew where, to do who knew what.

The engineer rubbed his forehead and popped four more ibuprofens in a vain attempt to ease his nagging headache. Must be the tension from worrying about the fuel cells, lack of sleep, staring at gauges and printouts and monitor displays for hours on end. What had started as a dull throb in his temples a couple of days before was now an excruciating vise, tightening across his forehead. He suspected the double dose of pills would not even take the edge off it.