Читать книгу End Game - Dale Brown - Страница 20

‘What kind of submarine? A Pakistani submarine?’

‘I’m not close enough to tell yet, Admiral,’ Storm told Johnson over the secure video-communications network. ‘We’re still at least twenty miles north of it. There are two surface ships between us and the submarine, and another oil tanker beyond it. They may be masking the boat’s sound somewhat. I’ll know more about it in an hour.’

‘You have evidence that it picked up the saboteurs?’

‘No, I don’t,’ admitted Storm.

Johnson’s face puckered. ‘Pakistan, at least in theory, is our ally. India is not.’

Storm didn’t answer.

‘And there are no known submarines in this area?’ said Johnson.

‘We’ve checked with fleet twice,’ said Storm, referring to the command charged with keeping track of submarine movements through the oceans.

‘I find it hard to believe that a submarine could have slipped by them,’ said Johnson.

‘Which is why I found this submarine so interesting,’ said Storm. While it was a rare boat that slipped by the forces – and sensors – assigned to watch them, it was not impossible. And Storm’s intel officer had a candidate – a Pak sub reported about seven hundred miles due east in the Indian Ocean twenty-eight hours ago. It was an Augusta-class boat.

All right, Storm. You have a point. See what you can determine. Do not – repeat, do not – fire on him.’

‘Unless he fires on me.’

‘See that he doesn’t.’