The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [129]
Ryan looked over the books. His CPA certificate had lapsed, but he could still read a balance sheet.
"You eat dinnah with us?"
"Carol, I can't. I have to get home. My son has a little-league game tonight. Everything's okay? No problems - not even those punks?"
"They not come back. Mistah Clark scare them away fo' good!"
"If they ever come back, I want you to call me right away," Jack said seriously.
"Okay, okay. I learn lesson," she promised him.
"Fine. You take care." Ryan stood.
"Doc Ryan?"
"Yes?"
"Air Force say Buck die in accident. I never ask anybody, but I ask you: Accident, no accident?"
"Carol, Buck lost his life doing his job, saving lives. I was there. So was Mr Clark."
"The ones make Buck die ?"
"You have nothing to fear from them," Ryan said evenly. "Nothing at all." Jack saw the recognition in her eyes. Though Carol had modest language skills, she'd caught what he'd meant by his answer.
"Thank you, Doc Ryan. I never ask again, but I must know."
"It's okay." He was surprised she'd waited so long.
The bulkhead-mounted speaker rattled. "Conn, sonar. I have a routine noise level bearing zero-four-seven, designate contact Sierra-5. No further information at this time. Will advise."
"Very well." Captain Ricks turned to the plotting table. "Tracking party, begin your TMA." The Captain looked around the room. Instruments showed a speed of seven knots, a depth of four hundred feet, and a course of three-zero-three. The contact was broad on his starboard beam.
The ensign commanding the tracking party immediately consulted the Hewlett-Packard mini-computer located in the starboard-after corner of the attack center. "Okay," he announced, "I have a trace angle little shaky computing now." That took the machine all of two seconds. "Okay, I have a range gate it's a convergence zone, range between three-five and four-five thousand yards if he's in CZ-i, five-five and six-one thousand yards for CZ-2,."
"It's almost too easy," the XO observed to the skipper.
"You're right, X, disable the computer," Ricks ordered.
Lieutenant Commander Wally Claggett, Executive Officer, "Gold," USS Maine walked back to the machine and switched it off. "We have a casualty to the HP computer looks like it'll take hours to fix," he announced. "Pity."
"Thanks a lot," Ensign Ken Shaw observed quietly to the quartermaster hunched next to him at the chart table.
"Be cool, Mr Shaw." the petty officer whispered back. "We'll take care o'ya. Don't need that thing now anyway, sir."
"Let's keep it quiet in the attack center!" Captain Ricks observed.
The submarine's course took her northwest. The sonar operators fed information to the attack center as she did so. Ten minutes later, the tracking party made its decision.
"Captain," Ensign Shaw announced. "Estimate contact Sierra-5 is in the first CZ, range looks like three-nine thousand yards, course is generally southerly, speed between eight and ten knots."
"You can do better than that!" the CO announced sharply.
"Conn, sonar, Sierra-5 looks like Akula-class Soviet fast-attack, preliminary target ident is Akula number six, the Admiral Lunin. Stand by -" a moment's silence "-possible aspect change on Sierra-5, possible turn. Conn, we have a definite aspect change. Sierra-5 is now beam-on, definite beam-aspect on target."
"Captain," the XO said, "that maximizes the effectiveness of his towed array."
"Right. Sonar, conn. I want a self-noise check."
"Sonar aye, stand by, sir." Another few seconds. "Conn, we're making some sort of noise not sure what, rattle, like, maybe something in the aft ballast tanks. Didn't show before, sir. Definitely aft definitely metallic."
"Conn, maneuvering room, we got something screwy back here. I can hear something from aft, maybe in the ballast tanks."
"Captain," Shaw said next. "Sierra-5 is now on a reciprocal