Seawolf Mask of Command (57 page)

The four SEALs were clearly growing disgusted. Trip Hamilton leaned back in his chair, tossed his pencil on the table, and folded his massive arms across his chest. “Oh, this is just fucking terrific,” he said apparently not caring that he was swearing at a commissioned officer.

“Button it, Trip,” Grogan said easily but looked down the table at Brodie. “Captain, we need a little bit more than this.”

Brodie nodded his head in understanding and looked back up at Fitzgerald. “Thank you, Mister Fitzgerald,” he snapped, politeness barely containing his own annoyance. “Please take a seat.”

“But, I wasn’t finished, sir,” Fitzgerald replied as he paused, fumbling with the report in his hands.

“Yes, you are,” Graves said pointedly. “Sit down, Mister.”

Kristen heard the anger in her XO’s voice. She recalled that he’d been a SEAL once himself, and he probably had a better idea of just what the four men across from her were getting into than anyone else on board. “Lieutenant?” Graves asked as she turned to see him looking at her. “I still have some questions about the minefield. Can you give us a quick rundown?”

Brodie nodded his agreement. The SEALs, all of whom were looking none too anxious to attempt the mission after what Fitzgerald had given them, turned and looked at her like a group of angry jurors. Kristen suppressed the desire to duck under the table. Hamilton’s stare alone looked sufficient enough to kill small animals, and the others weren’t much better.

“Gentlemen,” she said, keeping her seat, “the minefield is a mixed-density, irregular-pattern field,” she stated without emotion, correcting Fitzgerald with her first sentence. “The mines we have identified are all either Cold War-era types made in Russia or cheap copies produced in North Korea.” She then directed their attention to the printed handouts they’d all been given but Fitzgerald had never referred to.

“The majority of the mines in the field are of the UDM and MDM series of bottom mines with multichannel exploders. They will detonate if they detect the normal physical fields of any vessel to include magnetic induction, acoustic, hydrodynamic, electrical, etc…” She then stated simply, “Any of these mines are sufficient to severely damage any large warship and would certainly be catastrophic for you and your SDV. However, the good news is we found no evidence of any of these mines drifting free. They are all moored at varying depths ranging from ten feet below the surface to fifty feet deep.”

Trip Hamilton sat back up and was once again taking notes. Kristen took this as a positive sign, and the other SEALs weren’t glowering at her any more. Realizing she was giving them what they needed to hear, she continued. “However,” Kristen warned, “eight percent of the field appears to be of the PMK series of mines. These mines are basically homing torpedoes moored to the bottom. Once they detect a submarine or ship in their area, they disengage from their mooring system and go active. These, like all the mines in the field, would be sufficient to destroy your SDV,” she said honestly, sugar coating nothing.

Kristen didn’t know what it was like to be a SEAL trying to navigate through a narrow channel and then sneaking ashore onto a hostile shore, and she hoped she never would. The mere idea of going into North Korea sounded preposterous to her, and she was certain she’d have made a terrible commando. But, if she ever were nuts enough to be one, she would want those people briefing her to speak honestly about the threats she’d be up against.

Martin brought up a murky image of what such a mine looked like while secured to the sea floor. Kristen stood and stepped up to the SMART Board, drawing everyone’s attention to the lumps on the screen. “All of the mines we’ve talked about appear to be securely moored with no rogues floating about, but…” she pointed out a slight mound on the sea floor, “…we also found a small percentage of these mines right here.”

“It looks like the sea floor,” Hoover, the SEAL’s corpsman, offered, stating the obvious.

“That’s because it is,” she said simply. “These are a variant of the standard PMK torpedo mine. These mines are designed to sink to the bottom where, after a few days, they’re covered with a thin layer of silt. The mine then lies on the bottom virtually invisible until it detects the physical presence of a ship and activates.”

“Fuck me,” Hamilton hissed. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

“I’m afraid it is about to get worse,” Kristen admitted, trying to keep her tone professional. “We detected only about a dozen of these mines, but they are extremely hard to locate, and I cannot say with one hundred percent assurance there aren’t any of these mines lying in the bottom of the channel.”

“But you said you’d bet your life on the channel being clear,” Grogan reminded her pointedly.

“I did, and I still would,” she told him. “Your SDV is specifically designed for covert insertion of your men. As such, it has a small signature in the water and is basically a stealth submarine, demagnetized. Its electric motor is virtually silent, much quieter than any regular vessel. This channel is used by North Korean patrol craft much louder than the SDV, and they would have already activated any mine in the channel. Therefore, I’m certain if you stay in the channel, you’ll be clear of the danger.”

Grogan appeared satisfied, and the skepticism Fitzgerald had planted in the minds of the SEALs abated. Kristen couldn’t decide if Fitzgerald had intentionally placed doubt in their minds regarding the information from the drones to sabotage the mission, or if he’d simply been incompetent. Her briefing finished, she turned back toward Brodie. “That’s all I have, Captain,” she concluded. “Are there any questions?”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Brodie replied, not looking up at her and instead turning his attention to Grogan and his men, “Chief?”

Grogan glanced at his men. None of them looked excited about this mission. They’d lost two of their team before they’d even started their insertion, and Kristen could see Grogan was hesitant. “I’m not certain, Captain. I wish Mister Cheng was here,” he offered.

Kristen could see they were still not anxious to go. She couldn’t blame them. The mission sounded like certain suicide to her. But Brodie was less sympathetic. “He’s not,” Brodie said bluntly. “You’re in charge now.” Brodie let his words sink in for a few seconds, and those familiar with him heard the calm, diplomatic tone he always used when making a point. “You’ve lost two men, one dead and another fighting for his life on the
Abe Lincoln,”
Brodie continued. “But the fact remains, you have an operation to complete, and we don’t call off missions simply because of casualties.”

“Yes, sir,” Grogan nodded in agreement. “But, I’d like another day or two to study on it.”

Kristen thought this a reasonable request, so she was surprised when Brodie coldly shook his head, his eyes showing no sympathy or compassion for the concerns Grogan and his men had. “You will insert tonight,” Brodie said without a hint of consideration or remorse. He sounded as cold as ice. In fact, she barely recognized his tone.

The wardroom became deathly silent, and no one moved for several seconds. The SEALs were each looking at Brodie, and Kristen could see by their expressions they weren’t happy with a submarine captain sounding so dictatorial. Grogan shifted slightly in his seat. “Captain, my men and I need—”

“No delays,” Brodie cut him off coldly. “You go tonight.”

There was another pregnant pause as the gravity of what Brodie was ordering sunk in. He sounded cold, ruthless, and totally without concern for the safety of Grogan and his men. Brodie leaned forward slightly, as if preparing for a fight and not afraid of these men simply because they killed people for a living. “This isn’t some two bit scientist you’re snatching,” Brodie reminded them. “This is Doctor Dar-Hyun Choi, lead designer for the DPRKs strategic rocket program.” Brodie jerked a thumb toward the bow of the
Seawolf.
“And in case it’s escaped your notice, we’re carrying two TLAM-Ns, and have orders in hand to initiate a nuclear strike if we receive word the DPRK is fueling a rocket possibly containing a nuclear warhead. We need to get this man out so we can question him and learn whether or not they even have the capability to launch such a warhead. Because if they do, then World War III is a button push away, and it’s my finger on the friggin’ switch.” Brodie had raised his voice slightly, clearly showing the strain of being responsible for such a catastrophic event.

“But, if in the off chance, Dr. Dar-Hyun can convince us they don’t have the capability to launch a nuclear weapon at Tokyo or say Los Angeles, then the National Command Authority can breathe a little easier, and I’ll finally be able to get some sleep.” Brodie concluded, “So, like it or not, want to or not, you and your men are going in tonight because we cannot afford to wait until it is more convenient, or you feel more agreeable to the idea.” Brodie paused for a brief moment to let his words sink in. “Are you reading me, Chief?”

He was looking the four men in the eye and telling them to go and die if necessary, and he would accept no argument or discussion on the matter. Kristen couldn’t help wonder if she could have made a similar call if she were in his position. Everyone knew he was making the right decision, but it couldn’t have been an easy one.

Grogan stiffened slightly, clearly not liking it but nodded curtly. “Aye-aye, sir.”

It was the only answer he could give.

Brodie settled back in his chair. Kristen glanced at him, seeing the hard expression on his face. The grey eyes were almost heartless as he sat at the head of the table glaring at the SEALs. The four of them, especially Hamilton, looked ready to kill him on the spot. But Brodie didn’t back down.

“Chief, how are you going to manage it once you get ashore?” Graves asked, trying to defuse the tense standoff between Brodie and the SEALs. “I mean you can’t be planning to infiltrate a security regiment and snatch the doctor while he’s in his PJs.”

“No, nothing so dramatic,” Grogan answered. “Dr. Dar-Hyun is considered reliable by DPRK intelligence, that’s why he’s so valuable. He’s been allowed to travel to Russia, Iran, and Syria with only two handlers to make sure he doesn’t defect. In his own country, he’s normally allowed to pretty much come and go as he pleases with near complete freedom. Dar-Hyun is also a man of habits. Since suffering a mild heart attack four years ago, he’s started walking for exercise every night. While at Musudan-ri, his three mile route is the same each evening with a one mile stretch along the beach. That’s where we’ll snatch him.” Grogan leaned back as if everything he’d just said might make the idea of sneaking into North Korea and stealing their top rocket scientist easy.

“And if he has guards with him?” Graves asked.

“That’s their bad luck, sir,” Grogan replied without a hint of arrogance.

“What about this Dar-Hyun fellow?” COB asked. “What if he changes his mind and doesn’t want to defect?”

Grogan glanced across the table at COB as a grim smile crossed his face. “Trust me, Master Chief,” he replied. “If me and my boys have to go halfway across the world, then through a minefield, and into North Korea to get him, he’s coming with us whether he wants to or not.”

Kristen fidgeted slightly as a question came to mind she did not want to ask, but she knew she had to. The thought had just occurred to her, and, the moment it did, she felt her stomach begin to protest the question she knew was obvious. She shifted slightly in her chair, hoping the question would be answered without her having to say any more.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” Brodie asked from where he sat, quietly watching her.

She glanced at the SEALs, who looked back at her expectantly. She then looked toward Brodie, wondering how he could read her so effortlessly. She then turned back toward the SEALs, finding it difficult to speak as she felt the cold realization come over her regarding what would be the consequences if she did speak.

“Miss?” Grogan asked impatiently.

“I…” she paused and summoned all of her courage, no longer looking at any of them as her own fears were screaming at her to sit still and shut up. But she suppressed her inner fears and asked the question that seemed so evident, “I was wondering, which of you speaks Korean?”

“None of us,” Grogan answered simply. “Cheng speaks fluent Mandarin Chinese, and he was going to handle the communications.”

“Then how do you propose to explain to Dr. Dar-Hyun just who you are and how to use the diving gear so the guy doesn’t stroke out as soon as you start dragging him into the water?” Graves asked incredulously. “I mean, you just told us he has a heart problem and your diving equipment isn’t exactly easy to use.”

Kristen was no longer fidgeting, but instead sitting stone still. She felt the color drain from her face.

Don’t say a word. Sit still and shut up. No one will ever know.

“We don’t know. It was one of the problems we needed to work out, Captain.” Grogan replied to the XOs question as he stared at Brodie. “We were thinking we could drug him.”

“Sir?” Graves asked Brodie. “If this Dar-Hyun fella has a bad heart…”

“He’ll die before they can get him halfway back to the
Seawolf,”
Brodie finished with a new edge in his voice.

“Skipper?” COB asked apprehensively.

Kristen heard it all, but it was as if the conversation was happening around someone else. She slowly lifted her head and looked up at Brodie. His eyes were on her, and apparently everyone in the room had seen his stare. They were now watching her as well.

“We need someone who speaks Mandarin,” Brodie whispered softly.

There was dead silence in the wardroom as one by one, the men present grasped what Brodie and Kristen had already realized.

She spoke Mandarin.

The SEALs had heard her conversing with Cheng in the language while in the torpedo room. The
Seawolf
officers had heard her speaking it with Cheng in this very room. COB was the last one to pick up on it, but it was the SEALs who spoke first. “Is this some kinda joke?” Grogan suddenly asked as he realized what Brodie was thinking.

“Sir,” Graves chimed in. “She can’t go in,” he said flatly. “This isn’t some simple translation assignment. We’re talking a night combat insertion onto a hostile shore using complex breathing apparatus.” Graves motioned to the four SEALs, “Hell, these men have spent years preparing for this kind of stuff, and I guarantee you they’re uneasy about this one.”