Seawolf End Game Read online

  Seawolf End Game

  Book 2 in the Seawolf series

  Cliff Happy

  Acknowledgements

  The Seawolf represents over ten years of work, and the number of people who have helped me over the years is legion. First of all, I must thank my bride, Georgia, for nearly twenty-five years of love and support. She has always been there for me through the successes and the failures, always with steadfast confidence and support. I am very appreciative of Donna for her wisdom, editor’s pen and friendship, and Anne for her timely suggestions and humor. Next, I would be remiss if I did not thank my family for their love and good cheer. Lieutenant Commander Stephen Strayer who patiently consented to answer my numerous questions on what it’s like to serve on board a submarine. Finally, I would like to thank you, the reader, who have given me your time and trust.

  Chapter One

  K-955 Borei

  The ballistic missile submarine moved slowly through Iranian territorial waters just below the surface in less than two hundred feet of water. It was hardly the type of ocean depths the boat’s designers had in mind. But the submarine was safest in close to the Iranian shore for the moment as, inside, her crew learned their new boat.

  The Iranian Navy had yet to rechristen the latest ship to join their fleet, wanting to wait until the new crew of the Borei was finished their training. But this fact didn’t stop Captain Param Ahadi from feeling a great sense of pride in his command. Of course, he wasn’t completely in command, yet. His Russian counterpart, Captain Zuyev, still commanded and would do so until Ahadi and his crew were ready to take over from the remaining Russians on board.

  But Ahadi let himself revel in his accomplishment. In his twenty-seven years of naval service, he’d never hoped to command such a boat except in his dreams. Previously he’d commanded one of Iran’s aging Kilo class submarines, and he’d been totally outclassed by the American submarines routinely entering the Persian Gulf. But not any longer; now he would have the upper hand. How his government had brokered such a deal with the Russians was a mystery, and he really didn’t care. The Iranian Navy now had real teeth and was no longer just a paper tiger.

  “Once the reactor is dormant,” Captain Zuyev explained, regaining Ahadi’s attention, “the Borei becomes completely undetectable. Even the most advanced submarines in the world will be unable to hear us, especially with all the other manmade noises in the Persian Gulf for you to hide in.”

  Ahadi understood the potential of the revolutionary new submarine. Properly handled, the Borei would help reshape the political landscape of the globe.

  Chapter Two

  USS Seawolf, Sasebo, Japan

  Kristen cursed her perfect memory.

  Without it, the last week off the Korean coast might have been something she could forget about, or at least put behind her. Vance’s suicide, the mission into North Korea, Dr. Dar-Hyun Choi’s interrogation, subsequent death, and, finally, the incident between her and Brodie in his cabin all seemed too surreal to be true. Yet, the visceral, gut-twisting emotions she felt every time she closed her eyes and recalled the events told her they had been only too real.

  She ran a hand over her winter service uniform, checking her reflection in the mirror. They’d just arrived in Sasebo after their escape from the Korean Peninsula following Dr. Dar-Hyun Choi’s death. She’d slept for much of it after receiving—at Brodie’s insistence—a sedative to help her rest. She’d slept so long in fact, that she’d barely finished her report on everything that had happened in Korea before they arrived at the naval base.

  The orders recalling the Seawolf to Sasebo had been accompanied with a list of witnesses to be prepared for a board of inquiry regarding Dr. Dar-Hyun’s death, and, from what she gathered, a fact-finding board to determine whether or not Brodie—by initially disregarding the EAM ordering him to prepare for an immediate nuclear strike—had violated protocol regarding nuclear weapons.

  The boatswain’s pipes sounded over the 1MC announcing the arrival of COMSUBPAC—her old boss Admiral Beagler—as well as the Commander of Naval Intelligence. They’d barely been tied up in Sasebo thirty minutes, and the admirals were already coming on board, highlighting the fact they wanted answers, and answers quick. Kristen left her cabin and reached the control center as Admiral Beagler was shaking Brodie’s hand.

  “Welcome aboard, Admiral,” Brodie said with a hint of a smile.

  “Dammit, Sean,” Beagler chastised him. “You could have at least gotten a damn haircut.”

  “Yes, sir,” Brodie replied with his smile expanding somewhat. He looked completely unruffled by the fact these men might be on board to relieve him of his command.

  Behind Beagler were a handful of unfriendly looking civilians, several of whom studied her with interest. Kristen did her best to ignore them, focusing on Brodie. Kristen was one of the few people who’d been present during Dr. Dar-Hyun’s death, and her testimony could very well be used against him.

  “Would you like to continue this in the wardroom, Admiral?” Brodie suggested with a surprisingly confident smile.

  Beagler nodded and Kristen watched Brodie lead Beagler, the second admiral, and their entourages down to the wardroom. She paused, taking a few last seconds to once more run a smoothing hand over a few perceived wrinkles in her uniform, wanting to be as presentable as possible before heading to the Wolf’s Den where all the witnesses were gathering.

  She entered the crowded mess deck and saw, besides a covey of witnesses at the far end by the passageway leading to the wardroom, every officer, chief petty officer, and nearly half the crew squeezed in to the space, apparently hoping to lend moral support to their shipmates. She was about to begin squeezing her way through the sea of humanity when she heard COB’s gravelly voice. “Make way!” he barked from where he stood near the passageway to the wardroom. At COB’s order, the men parted at once and made a clear path for her.

  Kristen felt a bit embarrassed as she walked through the narrow lane, receiving a combination of polite nods and kind words from most of the crew. She thanked them as she moved across the mess deck, uncomfortable with the attention she was garnering from everyone on board ever since returning from Korea. She reached the small group of officers and nodded courteously in response to their greeting.

  “Good morning, gentlemen.”

  She then noticed the table where the SEALs, Hamilton and Hoover, were hunkered down, looking as prickly as ever. But although they glowered at any other crewmen who approached them, they gave Kristen a friendly nod of greeting, and she responded with a slight wave of her hand. She then saw the XO, dressed in his own Class-A uniform, with three neat rows of ribbons, the gold dolphins, and SEAL trident proudly displayed. “How’s it going in there, sir?” Kristen asked as she looked toward the wardroom door not far up the passageway.

  “The skipper’s been in there for about twenty minutes,” he whispered. “But just how it’s going, I don’t know.” Graves then patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about,” she told him honestly. Kristen felt anger welling up inside of her as she thought about Brodie’s career being ruined because of what had happened. He’d done what he had to do. It hadn’t been pretty, and Dar-Hyun had died. But nuclear war had been averted. “What are they going to do to him?”

  “I don’t know,” Graves replied honestly.

  “This is bullshit, XO,” Doc Reed muttered.

  “Shh!” Graves warned.

  However Hamilton, who had overheard, agreed with Reed. “You got that right, Doc. This is bullshit.”

  Kristen glanced at the commando as he sat cockily, calmly chewing on a piece of gum. His left arm was in a sling, but this impedimen
t in no way diminished his intimidating appearance. Most of the crew gave him a wide berth, but Kristen no longer saw him as some mindless killing machine. After being ashore with him and getting a brief glimpse of the world Hamilton lived in, she felt she understood him better. Hamilton thrived where most people could never survive. So it wasn’t so much what Hamilton did that caused people to fear him, it was what those people who couldn’t imagine being in his shoes knew about themselves that caused their apprehension. “And don’t tell me to keep it down, sir,” Hamilton said bluntly to Graves. “Because they can all line up and kiss my ass.”

  “Cool it, Trip,” Hoover advised.

  Kristen waited, wishing they would get on with it. Soft murmurs and whispered conversation continued for the next hour before the door finally opened and Beagler’s aide appeared. The young officer summoned Graves, who stepped forward and then, a few steps later, disappeared into the wardroom.

  “This could take hours,” Kristen whispered as she removed her glasses and wiped them off. Brodie’s interrogation had lasted over an hour, and if everyone spent as much time being grilled as the captain, they’d be there all day.

  A few minutes later, Gibbs approached with a cup of tea. “Here you go, Miss,” he offered. “Earl Grey. I just made a fresh pot.”

  She was about to accept when the wardroom door opened and Graves appeared after only fifteen minutes of questioning. He looked solemn and walked aft toward where the witnesses were waiting anxiously. “Lieutenant,” Graves called to her, “you’re up.”

  Kristen thanked Gibbs for the tea and then unconsciously ran her hands over her uniform, not noticing her right hand shaking again. She took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  “Miss,” Hoover offered as she stepped past the SEALs.

  “Yes, Mr. Hoover?”

  “If it gets ugly in there, just give a shout,” he offered with a playful grin, but was only half joking. “We’ll be right here.”

  “Fuckin-A,” Hamilton grinned with some enthusiasm at the possibility.

  “Thanks, guys,” Kristen replied and stepped into the passageway leading to the wardroom and the marine sentry standing at the door.

  Rear Admiral Beagler was seated next to a slender, bookish looking man she didn’t recognize wearing the rank of a Vice Admiral. A small group of civilians was seated along the far side of the wardroom table. She assumed the other admiral was the head of Naval Intelligence. She didn’t recognize any of the civilians, but as she looked down the long row of stern faces staring at her, she saw Brodie seated at the end of the table, unflappable as ever.

  “Lieutenant J.G. Whitaker reporting as ordered, Admiral,” she said formally as she came to attention.

  “Please be seated, Lieutenant,” the vice admiral ordered with equal formality.

  Kristen took a seat across from the two admirals and the civilians. She shot a nervous glance at Brodie.

  “It’s good to see you again, Lieutenant,” Beagler began with a pleasant smile.

  “Thank you, Admiral. It is good to see you, too,” she replied automatically. Beagler was a no-nonsense commander and an uncompromising taskmaster. When she’d first arrived at his command over a year earlier, she’d assumed he would treat her as poorly as her previous commanders had. He’d surprised her with his kindness and fairness. “Although I wish it were under better circumstances.”

  “Indeed,” Beagler agreed and then introduced the vice admiral seated next to him.

  As she suspected, he was Vice Admiral Marcus Malone, the head of Naval Intelligence. He’d flown out to Sasebo with the small squad of civilians from various government agencies. Two of the civilians were introduced. One was from the Defense Intelligence Agency, and another was from the National Security Council. The others were not introduced, but they watched her as they calmly made notes on legal pads in front of them.

  Admiral Malone, who was in charge, began by explaining the inquiry was simply trying to determine the circumstances surrounding the death of Dr. Dar-Hyun Choi. He then handed her the original copy of the report she’d written regarding the incident. “Is this your report, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, Admiral, it is,” Kristen answered, noticing that her report was now stamped “Top Secret” on the top and bottom of each page.

  Malone took it back and slipped the report into a thick classified briefing folder. “Okay, Lieutenant. Let’s get right to it,” he began as he looked down at his paperwork. “You were present the night Doctor Dar-Hyun Choi died from a heart attack while on board the USS Seawolf. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Admiral. I was in the sickbay when he died.” She looked sideways at Brodie, fearful she was hurting him. He gave her an ever-so-slight reassuring nod, which helped to settle her frazzled nerves.

  “What were you doing in there, Lieutenant?” One of the civilians who hadn’t been introduced asked abruptly.

  Kristen felt a sudden hint of annoyance. “Might I know your name, sir?”

  The vice admiral answered, “This is Mister Jones, he’s with an,” he paused for a moment and said, “other government agency.”

  Kristen heard the term “Other Government Agency” and took this to mean he was some kind of spook or intelligence analyst. Of course she doubted his name was Jones but let it pass and answered the question, “At first, I was translating for the corpsmen who were attending Dr. Dar-Hyun.”

  “And then?” Jones asked.

  “Then I translated for the captain when he asked Dr. Dar-Hyun some questions.” Kristen assumed this was all about finding someone to punish for Dar-Hyun’s death. But she changed her mind when, from the other side of the room, another man who hadn’t been introduced began speaking to her in Mandarin Chinese.

  “Where did you learn Mandarin?” he asked abruptly in flawless Chinese.

  “At Annapolis,” she replied, now speaking in Mandarin as well. “And who are you, sir?”

  “None of your business,” he replied bluntly, still speaking in Mandarin. “What makes you qualified to act as an interpreter?”

  “I never said I was qualified to be an interpreter,” Kristen replied instantly, still in Mandarin. “I said I interpreted for the captain.” She then added, “There weren’t exactly a lot of others on board who could understand the doctor.”

  The man leaned back slightly and nodded approvingly toward her. He then looked down at the admiral and spoke in English, “Her Mandarin is excellent, gentlemen.”

  Kristen was a bit annoyed at being tested in such a way as the questioning went from determining her fluency in Mandarin to the interrogation itself. They pummeled her with question after question about Dar-Hyun’s responses to what Brodie had asked. It seemed they wanted to know every discernible eye movement, every bit of inflection in the doctor’s voice for every question. When they were not satisfied with an answer she gave, they pressed her for ever more details. The bombardment of questions went on without end, and she soon felt the shirt under her dress coat soaked in sweat.

  Finally, after what she was certain had to be three hours of nonstop questions, they got to the crux of it. They specifically wanted her to explain what Dar-Hyun’s words were just before he died. Apparently the doctor’s last words were too weak to be picked up on the microphone Horner had been holding.

  Kristen thought for a moment. But for the first time in her life, her flawless memory failed her. She’d been such a mental, emotional, and physical wreck during the interrogation, the last words Dar-Hyun spoke didn’t come to her. “I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

  “Think, Lieutenant,” the man calling himself Jones interjected. “We need you to remember. What did he whisper to you?” he asked. “The last thing you said to him was a translation of a question your captain asked pertaining to why the North Koreans would threaten a nuclear war if they knew they had no capacity to fight even a limited one.”

  Kristen vaguely recalled the question and only remembered he died right after she asked him. She closed her eyes, struggl
ing to remember. But as soon as her eyes closed, the painful memories and images were waiting. Dar-Hyun’s accusing eyes still stared at her from the grave. She saw Alvarez’s lifeless body floating in the icy surf. She heard Chief Grogan’s last words about his radio, and then his own lifeless eyes haunting her. She once again felt the gut wrenching fear she’d felt while trying to get away from the rocky shore. The taste of salt water in her mouth, the smell of gun powder…. She’d promised him he’d be okay, and then she’d helped kill him. She thought hard, trying to remember, but the painful images, and the powerful emotions accompanying them, were the only things she could recall.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Lieutenant, that is unacceptable,” Malone told her bluntly. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is a matter of extreme importance. We have to know what he told you.”

  Kristen looked at the table, straining to remember, frustrated with herself for not being able to recall the conversation. She could clearly see license plate numbers of cars she’d walked by in downtown Groton, Connecticut years earlier. She could recall instantly the exact turn of phrase a second year midshipman had used during her first year at the Academy when he’d tried to ask her out. She remembered everything from the most mundane to the most significant details of her entire life. But as she thought about Choi’s final moments, her mind was drawing a blank. “I can’t remember,” she answered in frustration.

  The man calling himself Jones loosened his tie and appeared to be growing annoyed with her. “Dammit, Lieutenant. Think!” Jones demanded harshly.

  Kristen looked at him in shock.

  But, before she could say a word, Brodie snapped angrily, “Hey!” She’d almost forgotten he was in the room. He’d been sitting quietly throughout her interview until that point. He was now leaning forward in his chair with a threatening finger pointing toward Jones. “That’s enough,” he told the man bluntly, a cold edge in his voice. The veins in his neck bulged and she could clearly see the anger in his face. His eyes were almost glowing at Jones.