He felt his stomach drop. The rumors had to be true. There was no other logical explanation.

Dmolysti smiled and looked his captain in the eye. “I understand, Captain. I am with you. Come, the officers are ready to hear from you.”

Vivilav smiled back. Dmolysti was a good, smart first officer. He had recognized the true mission as soon as he saw the chart, just as Vivilav knew he would. The only question was his eventual reaction. Vivilav hadn’t been sure what Dmolysti would do or where his true loyalties lay. Now he was. His first officer stood with him. That meant that the upcoming task would be much easier.

Vivilav tucked the chart under his arm. The two men stepped out of the stateroom together and headed for the briefing.

Chapter 26

The Anzio plunged into the onrushing swell, burying her bow deep into the cold gray water. The flood streamed back along her sleek foredeck, only to pour frothy white over the sides. As each wave passed down her length, the bow reared high out of the water, ready to stab relentlessly into the next swell. A flock of cormorants flew in loose formation astern of the gray warship, looking to snatch any food that might be churned up by her passage.

The officer of the deck watched the agitated sea, scanning the gunmetal gray sky, from the enclosed bridge. Sheets of rain spattered against the broad glass windows. Nothing, not even another ship, broke up the monotonous drabness of the winter sea and sky. Norway was fifty miles away over the horizon to the east, but its mountainous coast was hidden in the clouds. Down below, the crew was just finishing lunch and starting the afternoon routine.

Jon Ward was no exception. He pushed back from the table, patted his stomach contentedly, and sighed. “Excellent meal, Bob.”

Commander Bob Norquest sat across from him. The remnants of dinner were still on their plates. The two were alone in Norquest’s sea cabin, one deck below the Anzio’s bridge and one above the Combat Information Center. The little stateroom included a desk and chair, a broad leather couch, and a small eating area. Though the room was cramped and Spartan by most standards, it still looked palatial to an old submarine sailor like Jon Ward. He was more accustomed to closet-sized submarine staterooms.

“The cooks do a pretty good job. It’s tough on them in this weather, though,” Norquest answered, then shifted gears. “Any idea how long we’re going to be out here?”

As if to emphasize her captain’s remarks, Anzio took a sharp roll to starboard, sending the crockery rocketing across the table. The two officers reacted, grabbing plates to prevent a messy disaster. They caught most everything, but one errant plate skittered across the table just beyond Ward’s grasp and crashed to the deck.