Piranha: Firing Point

“We’ve got some work to do, boss. And we don’t have any time.”

“Okay, how far to Peari?”

“About three hours.”

“Time enough. I’m going to change my mind. Get O’Shaughnessy on the video. While I’m talking to him, you’ve got to find Tanaka.”

“Admiral Tanaka? Can I ask what’s on your mind?”

“Tanaka designed the Rising Sun subs practically by himself, we’ll need him. Next, get on the horn and find out the status of the Pearl Harbor boats. I want every unit to get out to the East China Sea as soon as possible.

Tell them to throttle up to emergency flank.”

“Emergency flank? Are you serious? You’ll be throwing away twelve nuclear reactors, you know that. You’re talking about two hundred million dollars of replacements, with drydock time piling up to a year for each boat. Emergency flank will make every ship radioactive up to the forward bulkhead of the torpedo room.”

“Paully. Emergency flank. Now.”

“Aye, sir. Your fleet. Your stars.”

Exactly, Pacino thought. The stars that he needed to earn once more, and damned quickly. White moved aft to where he’d piled his computer equipment, and began working. Pacino looked out the window. The clouds were all far beneath the plane, and nothing was visible above but the brilliant stars. The past will forgive you, Pacino thought. Follow your instincts, Mikey.

“Admiral? The CNO is up and on the seat screen.”

“Thanks, Paully.” Pacino punched the fixed-function key, and a glowering O’Shaughnessy came up, his hair rumpled, wearing a robe. His face was stubbled, his eyes puffy. “What do you want?” he said, his voice flat.

“What happened after I left. Admiral? The fleet’s steaming like ducks in a shooting gallery.”

“We were overruled. The fleet’s making a max-speed run for the coastline. Wamer’s not in the mood to zigzag.

Or to execute a feint. They should hit the beach in a matter of hours, and it’ll all be over.”

“Admiral, I’m convinced the fleet’s standing into danger.

They could be targeted any moment.”

“Is your conviction the result of new evidence?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

This was it. Pacino thought. He would have to bring Donchez into it.

“Sir, Director Donchez had gathered quite a bit of new data—”

“We saw all that, Pacino. It’s old news. And it may even be tainted. Did you have access to Donchez’s’data’ when the meeting with Wamer went down?”

“No, sir. I heard later.”

“Well, forget it. Anything else?”

“Sir, I’ll say it one more time, because no one seems to be hearing me. The fleet’s in danger. We have to get them out to the Pacific until my forces can assure them of a safe passage. I’ve got a dozen 6881 subs steaming toward the East China Sea at forty-five knots.”

“So now you’re not just recommending a zigzag, you want them to withdraw? For what, an entire week?”

“Affirmative, boss. Get the fleet the hell out there. I’m more convinced than ever. JeanPaul’s in deep trouble.” “Noted, Admiral,” O’Shaughnessy said, his face a closed book. “Anything else?”

Pacino was amazed. He had hit a brick wall with O’Shaughnessy. His blood rose, and he could feel himself on the edge of control. “Sir, maybe I’m being out Of line or tactless, but shouldn’t we get back to Wamer and tell her she’s making a mistake?”

“Pacino, unless I’m forgetting, didn’t we cover all this at the briefing?”

“Well, yessir, but she didn’t listen. I’m going to ask you. Admiral, straight out. Did you go against my recommendation after I left?”

O’Shaughnessy’s face became darker. “You’re out of line, Pacino. Now, it’s two in the morning and I’m going back to sleep. You have your orders. I suggest you follow them.”

“Aye-aye, sir. I apologize for waking you up.” What a waste of time, Pacino thought, angry and disappointed.

He was about to click off the admiral in disgust when O’Shaughnessy’s voice returned: “Patch? For the record, I backed you up. The fact that you doubted that, I take that as being you not backing me up. I suggest in the future you learn to command your tongue better than you’re commanding your submarine force.”

And then the CNO hung up on Pacino.

“Dammit,” he cursed. Putting a wedge between himself and O’Shaughnessy was the last thing he’d wanted.

Now the CNO was angry, and worse, he had again mentioned that he thought Pacino was not doing his job.

“Well, that was no help,” Paully said.

“Brick walls,” Pacino muttered.

“Can you go over his head, to Warner direct?”

“I could, Paully. Believe me, I’m in the mood to try, but I’m keeping in mind one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If I push it to the point of getting fired, I can’t do anyone any good.”

“True. Coffee?”

“Yeah, it’ll be one long damned night. Let’s keep going. Let’s raise the Navpacforcefleet admiral-in-Command.

Maybe we can make some headway with him.”

“Admiral JeanPaul Henri, the last naval aristocrat?”

“Patch him on.”

Henri took some time to come up on the video. A three-star admiral himself, Henri was a career surface-warfare officer, rising in that sexy portion of the surface navy devoted to antiair warfare. He had commanded an Aegis cruiser, the Ark Royale, during the Islamic War.