The Hunt for Red October - Tom Clancy [177]
"You took a foolish chance, Captain," Ryan observed.
"This is my ship—and I do not like the dark. It was my fault! We should have made a careful counting as the crew left."
They arrived at the watertight door. "Okay, I'll go through first." Ryan stepped through and helped Ramius through backward. The belt had loosened, and the wound was bleeding again.
"Close the hatch and lock it," Ramius ordered.
It closed easily. Ryan turned the wheel three times, then got under the captain's arm again. Another twenty feet and they were in the control room. The lieutenant at the wheel was ashen.
Ryan sat the captain in a chair on the port side. "You have a knife, sir?"
Ramius reached in his pocket and came out with a folding knife and something else. "Here, take this. It's the key for the rocket warheads. They cannot fire unless this is used. You keep it." He tried to laugh. It had been Putin's, after all.
Ryan flipped it around his neck, opened the knife, and cut the captain's pants all the way up. The bullet had gone clean through the meaty part of the thigh. He took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and held it against the entrance wound. Ramius handed him another handkerchief. Ryan placed this against the half-inch exit wound. Next he set the belt across both, drawing it as tight as he could.
"My wife might not approve, but that will have to do."
"Your wife?" Ramius asked.
"She's a doc, an eye surgeon to be exact. The day I got shot she did this for me." Ramius' lower leg was growing pale. The belt was too tight, but Ryan didn't want to loosen it just yet. "Now, what about the missile?"
Ramius gave an order to the lieutenant at the wheel, who relayed it through the intercom. Two minutes later three officers entered the control room. Speed was cut to five knots, which took several minutes. Ryan worried about the missile and whether or not he had destroyed whatever booby trap the agent had installed. Each of the three newly arrived officers took a key from around his neck. Ramius did the same, giving his second key to Ryan. He pointed to the starboard side of the compartment.
"Rocket control."
Ryan should have guessed as much. Arrayed throughout the control room were five panels, each with three rows of twenty-six lights and a key slot under each set.
"Put your key in number one, Ryan." Jack did, and the others inserted their keys. The red light came on and a buzzer sounded.
The missile officer's panel was the most elaborate. He turned a switch to flood the missile tube and open the number one hatch. The red panel lights began to blink.
"Turn your key, Ryan," Ramius said.
"Does this fire the missile?" Christ, what if that happens? Ryan wondered.
"No no. The rocket must be armed by the rocket officer. This key explodes the gas charge."
Could Ryan believe him? Sure he was a good guy and all that, but how could Ryan know he was telling the truth?
"Now!" Ramius ordered. Ryan turned his key at the same instant as the others. The amber light over the red light blinked on. The one under the green cover stayed off.
The Red October shuddered as the number one SS-N-20 was ejected upward by the gas charge. The sound was like a truck's air brake. The three officers withdrew their keys. Immediately the missile officer shut the tube hatch.
The Dallas
"What?" Jones said. " Conn, sonar, the target just flooded a tube—a missile tube? God almighty!" On his own, Jones powered up the under-ice sonar and began high-frequency pinging.
"What the hell are you doing?" Thompson demanded. Mancuso was there a second later.
"What's going on?" the captain snapped. Jones pointed at his display.
"The sub just launched a missile, sir. Look, Cap'n, two targets. But it's just hangin' there, no missile ignition. God!"
The Red October
Will it float? Ryan wondered.
It didn 't. The Seahawk missile was pushed upward and to starboard by the