The Chase: One Courageous Skipper Battling The Perilous Evil Out To Destroy Him. (Sea Action & Adventure) (15 page)

"You sure picked the right time to teach me seamanship," she laughed again.

The wind-speed-indicator was hitting 40 knots. The boat was surfing the following waves, dropping off their crests with a contented splash.

"The wind sounds like a pack of wolves”. She stood near him by the helm. "Is it always like this?"

"Not at all," he called back, "only during storms".

She laughed out loud, and Avri smiled back, "are you sure you've never sailed before?"
I guess she would be a good sailing companion, at least for the next few days
.

They reached the island just before sunset. As soon as they entered the bay the waters calmed down. The Greek's boat wasn't there. "The poor guy must be caught out there in the storm".

Avri tied the boat to the quay and they both went over to the cabin. The door was closed, but not locked, a usual. No one answered. Avri knocked harder, much harder, but still no answer.

He was sorry he opened the door even before he went in. The old man was sprawled on the floor near the entrance, facing the door, a thick pool of blood around his head. His open eyes stared at them. Clearly he was shot trying to reach the door.

Sophia let out a small scream as she gasped, her hand covering her mouth. She entered the cabin as Avri walked over to the bedroom, scared of what he might find there. He was right. The wife was slumped over the bed, her head drooped down to the side, her arms reaching the floor. She was half-naked, from the waist down. There was a small pool of blood on the floor and a larger one in the middle of the bed.

"What happened here?" asked Sophia as she entered the room just behind him. "What the hell is this?"

"I think that is quite obvious," he answered as he walked around the bed, covering the body with a summer blanket. "Someone attacked the couple, she was raped and killed and he was plainly murdered". He looked around the room and added, "And it doesn't seem like a robbery either".

Sophia explored the rest of the house as Avri checked the outside.

"Nothing is unusual outside, at least not noticeably so".

There was blood everywhere. There were pools of blood by the kitchen table and on the living room floor. He went back to the body on the floor. Now he could observe the revolting details. The old Greek had most of his fingers broken, bent all the way back to the top of his wrists. His mouth was badly bruised and there were many cuts on his chest and his face.

"I think the man was mercilessly interrogated. Someone wanted something very badly". Avri said, distraught.

"And who would rape his old wife?"

"Maybe they did that to get him talking".
Or maybe they were sex-starved Russian sailors,
he thought.

"Not much fighting went on here. A broken chair and a couple of shattered glasses…" she observed.

They covered the bodies and went out of the house.

Avri was angry, enraged at the Russians.
What kind of animals could be so cruel? This is not human. Not human at all.

"I wish I could lay my hands on these bastards. I'd squeeze their throats with my bare hands. I'd squeeze their throats to death".

He set there, clutching his head at the temples, drenched in sorrow and rage and grief.

Sophia sat quietly and observed him, impassive.

It was dark and lonely and quiet. Neither of them spoke for a long while.

A long time had passed before Avri regained his senses and could think half straight.

His thoughts were disarrayed:
Where do we go from here? What should I do next? What about this Italian Sophia, should I tell her about the Russian sub? And how much should I tell her anyhow?
He realized that he actually knew nothing about her. Who is she anyway?

Does he need to trust her? Is he in trouble?
What should I do next?

She was smoking cigarettes all that time, gazing into the horizon. She must have had her own contemplations to do.

"You held up in there quite well," he said, his comment cutting through the thick silence. I was afraid you might pass out or panic. As a matter of fact you were O.K. during the storm too. Even better than O.K.".

"I am glad you approved of my conduct. It is and it was quite an ordeal. Mainly here, with the Greek couple and all."

Avri nodded and asked "What do you do back home, are you a policewoman or something? You seem to be taking all this very calmly".

She smiled very faintly "I am a security officer for Valento. That's a big department store in Southern Italy. Actually it is a chain of nine stores".

"In which one of them do you work? Where do you live?"

"Oh, I work in all of them. I am THE security officer. I am in charge of security for the chain. Yes, that does make me accustomed to dealing with crises. And I live in San Giorgio a Cremano. That's not far from Napoli," she replied levelly, and then added "Do I pass your test, Captain?"

"Yes, you pass very well,"
though I see no place for sarcasm
, he smiled ruefully, and added to himself –
maybe a bit too well
.

"They didn't deserve this," he added. "They were such nice people. They were so much in love. I enjoyed watching them together". He sat down on a rock, near the water, coughing to conceal the tears clogging his throat. "They didn't deserve to die. And not like this."

"So why did it happen? It wasn't robbery, and the rape was the result of something, not the cause". She hoped he would tell her, she was eager to learn the details.

"It sort of happened because of me," he sighed, his head clasped between his hands, staring down into the water below.

"What do you mean because of you? What do you have to do with this?"

"It's a long story, you better sit down". She sat next to him and lit another cigarette. "A few days ago I bumped into a submarine. I hit it."

"What do you mean you hit it? How did it happen?"

Sophia smoked her cigarettes in long drags as Avri disclosed his story. He told her of the collision, the race to Samos, the bent propeller and the jammed anchor. He described how he fixed the hole in the bow and the midnight search of the Turkish coastguard - though he didn't tell her about the antenna or about Danny. She didn’t need to know these things.

"This is the reason for the death of this gentle Greek couple," he said bitterly.

"And now you are in danger too," Avri added suddenly.

She wasn't frightened at all,
maybe too composed,
he thought.

"So what do you plan to do? Won't they come back for you? And anyhow, what is it they want from you?"

"Maybe they're afraid I'll tell about it? Who knows?"

"Maybe the collision broke something off the submarine and they think you have it?"

He glanced at her suspiciously, "How do you mean, what can I have?" He wondered about her comment, whether it was it just a lucky guess.

She noticed his anxiety and hastened to reassure him, "I don't know, just thinking out loud. So, what do you intend to do?" she repeated the question.

"I am going to sink that sub." There was enough conviction in his voice to keep her from laughing out loud.

"YOU are going to sink a submarine?" she exclaimed, surprised.

"And whose submarine is it anyhow?"

He wasn't quite ready for this, "I don't know, and I don't care. I don't think I have a choice. I can't outrun them. They'll find me. They killed this couple because of it. I'll sink them no matter who they are".

"I think you really mean that, don't you?"

"I sure do. There is a time when good men must make their own laws. Yes, judge, jury and executioner. That will be for the good Greek couple. I also see no other way. They are after me. I don't see what other options I have!"

"You can run away, leave your boat, take a ferry to the mainland and fly to Israel. That's an option, isn't it?"

"And leave the Galatea here? Are you crazy? I can't do this. This is not an option. Not an option at all".

"I see. And how do you plan to sink a submarine? I know little about submarines, but I assume they are not designed to be easy to sink. Do you have weapons stashed away on your Galatea?"

"I'll sink her. I don't know how, yet, but I'll sink them. And no, I don't have weapons on my boat".

"This I have to see. I'm going to stay with you just to see how you do that".

"No, you don’t. That boat from Illiaros is coming to take you back, isn't it? So you take it back and keep those stores in Napoli secure".

"We'll see about that." She was quite resolute. "But now those guys have the Greek's boat too. I noticed it isn't here, unless they have sunk it, and the boat that brought me over to this island is not coming back. I hired it one-way only."

"You did what? One-way? You are one strange lady".

He stopped for a while, scratching the top of his head, before saying, "And about the Greek's small fishing boat - I think you're right, they probably took it. If she's sunk we'll see her tomorrow at the bottom of the bay, when the sun is high. Now the bay is too dark to see anything. They can scout around with that boat inconspicuously. That's probably what they'll do."

They buried the Greeks before sunset. Avri wrapped the bodies in sheets tied with a rope. The burial was to be in the old way of the sea.

"In a way it does befit them to rest together at the bottom of their bay," Sophia agreed with a gloomy nod.

They sat silently for a while, watching the ripples run across the water, carrying the sad tale over the bay.

"Let's look around," he said as they returned from the quayside,

"Maybe there are some things here that could be useful for sinking a submarine".

"You really are serious about it, aren’t you?" She didn't wait for an answer and offered – "So let me help, too".

On the far side of the bay there was a small pile of miscellaneous objects the old Greek had collected over the years. Logs of driftwood the sea had deposited after storms, crates and barrels lost off freighters, and smaller items abandoned by vacationers. Sophia drew a small flashlight from her shoulder bag and tried to examine the objects. The beam was too weak to really help. "Let's leave it for the morning. We can't do much in the dark anyway".

"OK, but let's search the cabin before we turn in," he felt very tired.

"And what will we be looking for?"

"For guns. Any kind of weapon. At least one."

The chest of drawers in the corner of the living room provided nothing at all. In the kitchen they found two large knives, some fifteen inches long with strong blades. "These are the best weapons we have for now," he said wearily.

They entered the bedroom, uneasy. The closet was clean, however, sparsely hung with neatly arranged garments. Four dresses were draped lightly in the right section of the closet, two suits on the left. At the bottom there was a wooden chest.

It took her just a minute to return with a screwdriver, which she handed him without a word. The lock on that old wooden trunk posed no real obstruction. There were three guns inside. One was a British six shot revolver, the second one was a German Lugar pistol. Best yet, there was a German WWII Mauser 98 rifle. Sophia held the light steady as he checked for ammunition. There were four cartons of ammo for the revolver, six for the Lugar and fifteen packs of 7.62 mm cartridges for the rifle.

"Now you have the weapons to go to war," she said, with dark humor, "although not much that looks handy against submarines".

This girl is cool
, he thought. "Let's carry it all to the Galatea and then we'll come back and show our respects by tidying the place".

It would be the first night Sophia would sleep aboard the Galatea. It would be the first time any woman would sleep onboard his boat. It was not an easy thing to consider. The boat was more of a mistress to him then a vessel. A lover.

Would she understand?

He was sound asleep on the settee in the main cabin even before Sophia had settled in the rear cabin. Sophia reconsidered the events, assessing the situation, mulling over her next move. There was no way to communicate with her team at The World Trading Co in Tel-Aviv. She simply had to assume that each was playing his part in this intricate concert.

The rubber boats slid silently towards the tiny bay at the Southern tip of the nameless little island. On the map it appeared more as a large rock rather than a small island. It was the location that would have been indicated by the little tracking bug Danny had slipped into the Galatea's boom tip while in Samos. This was the only thing they had to go by.

There were eight commandoes, four in each boat. Two of them stayed on the rocky shore while the others advanced stealthily over the shallow hill. It was a good surveillance position. They could see the cabin some two hundred yards ahead and the yacht a little to the left. It was difficult to discern details. The light was too dim for the optical binoculars and too bright for the night goggles. They placed a small package containing a small Willkie Talkie, hoping Sophia may be back and find it. They took positions and applied their camouflage. They did it so well one could practically step over them before noticing they were there.

Avri and Sophia came up the hill after they had buried the Greeks at sea. The commandoes watched them searching the salvage outside the hut. They stayed under cover for the rest of the night.

In the early morning, Sophia and Avri returned to the hill, searching for anything to sink a submarine with. Avri tipped a few barrels on the outskirt. Two of them were marked SODIUM SULFIDE. He opened one carefully and was pleased with his find. The drum was full of white granules that resembled very coarse salt, it was indeed Sodium Sulfide. Fifty gallons was way too much. That was some four hundred pounds of it.

"Sophia," he called out, "I'm going to the boat. There is something useful here but I need to get a smaller container for it.

Sophia was at the bottom of the hill, glad of the opportunity to be there by herself. She waved in agreement to Avri and waited for him to disappear by the bay. She was a player in a team and she could anticipate her mates' moves, or at least hope for it. On the ground, a bit under a bush, there was something that looked familiar, an old handbag - one she had for many years and had had left in Tel Aviv a few weeks ago. Inside there was a pack of Marlboro Lights. Her brand. It was just a bit heavy for an ordinary cigarette pack. She was expecting something like it. It was time for this orchestra to start the music.

The Marlboro pack contained a simple radio set. No dials and only two buttons. She turned it on and called softly, "SB1 to World". She didn't have to repeat it. A familiar voice responded right away. "Glad you picked it up, let's get to work".
"I'm here".

"There are guys from the Shayetet to help you. What are your plans?"

I'm here with the civilian. He is going to sink the submarine."

"Good. Let him. We'll be around. Call us when you can".

The call ended just in time as Avri returned with two empty cement bags. She helped him scoop the Sodium Sulfide granules into the bags. Avri loaded one bag over his shoulder and carried the other one with Sophia holding one end.

The commandoes watched curiously.

"We need acids. Check for any acid you can find," he said quickly. He was calm and businesslike now, "Hydrochloric acid, Sulfuric, anything that says ACID". He wrote the word on the bag – ΟΞΥ, ACID in Greek. "Vinegar will be good too, great".

Avri set to work. Time was short. The submarine might appear any time now. Sophia returned with five bottles of vinegar. He gave her a thumbs-up, and then a broad grin appeared when she told him there were about ten more bottles in the kitchen cabinet.

"You see," he explained before being asked. "This salt is Sodium Sulfide. When mixed with an acid it will release a gas,
hydrogen sulfide, H
2
S. A real stinker and deadly too. This is the weapon we were looking for. This stuff will sink us the submarine".

His excitement mounted as she helped eagerly. "We need containers. Plastic cans, food cans, oil cans, any cans. We need them empty. Cleanliness doesn't matter; no one is going to eat the stuff."

Avri drove a large nail up through the bottom of each can and filled it with the chemical, as high as the top of the nail.

"Now we need plastic bags, sandwich size, groceries size, garbage size, any size," he told Sophia.

He filled the plastic bags with the acid. Vinegar was abundant and he used that first. He sealed each bag and placed it in the cans, just over the nail, careful not to puncture it. Now he used adhesive tape to seal each can.

"The bombs are complete," he proudly declared. "Now we are ready for them".

Sophia looked, astounded and amazed at this guy, "You mean this stuff will work too?" she laughed.

"You'll see. You will see."

"I'm going over to the Galatea. There are other things to prepare. Will you check the guns, see if they are clean and ready. You do know how to do this, don't you?" He smiled and left the room.

Sophia picked up her Marlboro radio as soon as his head disappeared down the hatch. There was some discussion about his proposed chemical bombs. A quick call to Tel Aviv and a brief discussion with the University confirmed that this guy knew his chemistry.

"The stuff has a terrible stink and is lethal, too. He only has to get it into the sub, spread it about in a few places. Good luck".

* * * * *

Captain Poliakov was eager to reach the sailboat. The Greek fishing boat he had just appropriated from the old couple would be of great help. The submarine had a serious disadvantage; it shouldn't be in this area. The Greek boat, on the other hand, was natural to these waters.

It was dark outside. The Slavianka had been at periscope depth for half an hour now. Captain Poliakov was awaiting the rendezvous with his new patrol boat, the one he had commandeered from the Greeks. There was no remorse, no guilt. There was no peacetime for a submarine, it is always at war, and all was fair in war. The boat was expected to join the sub for refueling, and possibly relaying whatever information it had.

"Com-ops to ops-center". The call echoed all over the intercom system. The communication officer came running and saluted as he faced the Captain.

"I need you to set up a communication link with our new patrol boat. I want one installed there when it arrives. This is about to happen now".

The tech group returned to the submarine shaken and wet. They didn't manage to finish the installation. The sea was too rough for this kind of work. They had to use both their hands just to avoid being swept away.

The Captain decided it was best to forego the boat and dive below the storm. Indeed it was for the best. He was going to get that sailboat with his sub. This was the way he knew best, the only way he knew.

The summer storm which had compelled the Galatea to return to the bay was bad news for the Greek boat. There were three Russian sailors aboard. They were totally unfamiliar with storms as there are no storms for a submarine. Submarines are not built for storms, their stability is poor and the only way for a sub to handle a stormy sea is to dive. The boat was bobbing lightly next to the submarine's tower, the technicians installing the radio set in her cabin. But the wind had strengthened and the rocking had become too violent. It was impossible to continue working.

The technicians returned to the sub. The sea was now becoming too rough for the submarine itself to stay above water. The Slavianka dived and the Greek boat motored at full speed for shelter at the island of Fourni to the north. It was a two hour trip and the sea was growing rougher by the minute. They had no map and they couldn't navigate to a different shelter, they only knew that Fourni lay straight ahead. They continued on course to the place whose name they could hardly pronounce. The waves came from the West, pounding at their Port side, flooding the little boat with water. The engine worked fine. They were bailing out water with a plastic bucket, taking turns at this Sisyphean chore. The horizon was gray, heavy with rainclouds. They were navigating by a small compass one of them happened to have. It was one of those tourist gift versions, and it was all they had.

The Israeli trawler, the one bought by the Israeli Ambassador, followed the Greek boat after she had left the submarine. They lost sight of her as the weather worsened, and called for the missile boat to take over.

INS Ashdod (Israeli Navy Ship Ashdod) had been disguised as a commercial ship, a ferry, to be precise. The plywood structure which had been pre-fabricated back home, was attached to the hull, hiding the bridge, guns and missiles. The rear deck carried plywood trucks and cars like any ferry would have. This guise had worked successfully on previous occasions, and it did now, too. The INS Ashdod tracked the Greek boat on radar. They saw her sailing straight for the island of Fourni, heading for the barren South shores. It was a perfect coast to wreck a boat on. It had no beach, it was all rocks and reefs. With the wind howling at forty-five knots and waves towered to twelve feet that boat was heading toward certain disaster. The INS Ashdod watched and waited. She was not in the business of rescuing the Russian Navy.

The submarine headed for the Greek bay. Captain Poliakov was still chasing the sailboat. They dived to fifteen fathoms and stayed off land. He didn't trust the maps well enough to sail close to the shores. He would get close enough once they reach the island.

The sailboat crew had been bailing water for six hours non-stop now. They were tired. It was usually men who fail when the sea gets rough, not the boats. These three mariners where cold, and battered, and totally exhausted. They bailed at shorter and shorter shifts, doing nothing but breathing and cursing on their off shifts. It was almost noon time but visibility was as poor as ever.

All at once the rocks appeared from the bottom of the sea. Like Titans from ancient myth they loomed from within the waves. The rocks seeming to roar like wild beasts as they devoured the boat. It consumed all with a huge blow and one powerful grip. Nothing was left. One sailor was shredded to bits on the sharp rocks; the second was pulled down to the deep abyss of the sea. The third sailor was hurled way up by a giant wave over the rocks. He landed on the rough terrain, bruised, but alive. Unconscious.

The Captain of the missile boat witnessed the scene through his powerful binoculars. He assumed the one on the rocks may have survived. He had no intention of risking his people on this rugged territory. He decided he would report it to the Greek authorities, in due course. Not before they are well on their way home.

The masquerading missile boat turned sharply to the West, banking hard to Port, speedboat style, all four Maybach engines roaring at the top of their thirteen thousand horsepower lungs.