“Coming around,” Eric said. With the two magnetohydrodynamic engines thrusting at full power in opposite directions, the Oregon could practically rotate on its own axis. The camera focused on the yacht compensated for the turn.
The Narwhal was already sinking at the stern. The Jaffa Column would be at the bottom of the Mediterranean in minutes. Now all Max could do was watch the flaming tail of the Exocet as it streaked toward the Achilles.
—
As with its namesake, the replica Narwhal didn’t stand a chance against the railgun, and Golov was finding the attack somewhat routine. Next, he’d turn his attention to the Nogero. It was larger than the feeder ship, but he’d sink it all the same.
“We have a missile launch!” the radar operator shouted.
“What? From where?”
“From that tramp freighter. One minute to impact.”
“You must be mistaken. Is there a warship behind it?”
“No, sir.”
“Aircraft in the region?”
“None detected, Captain.”
Golov felt his adrenaline surge. Now he had a challenge. He put the image of the missile on his console. Smoke trailed it as the missile he now recognized as an Exocet raced toward him.
“Activate the LaWS.”
“Activating LaWS.”
The dome over the laser weapon system retracted, exposing the telescope-like laser.
“Forty seconds to impact!”
“Target the missile.”
“Targeting missile.” Red crosshairs lined up on the missile.
“Fire!”
Unlike the recoil from the railgun, the laser functioned with little more than a faint whine.
The nose of the missile glowed red for a fraction of a second. Then, without warning, the missile shattered as its warhead and fuel detonated.
“Another missile launched, Captain! Now two torpedoes in the water!”
“So our adversary has a few surprises,” Golov said. “Ready the mini-torpedoes. Target the second missile with the laser.”
Sirkal liked to quote Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. So did Golov, and one of his favorite lines was “What the ancients called a clever fighter is one who not only wins but excels in winning with ease.”
“Turn the railgun on the Nogero,” he ordered, and then smiled at his cleverness.
Golov was going to win this battle with ease.
THIRTY-THREE
Juan raced through the secret passageway, leaving Gretchen to close the hidden door behind him. The thick concrete of the old Soviet building made getting a cell phone signal tricky, but he finally had a connection. The Oregon’s line was ringing.
As soon as Hali picked up, Juan said, “Put me through to Max, Hali.”
“Aye, Chairman.” There was a pause before Hali came back. “Max wants to know if it can wait.”