The Malacca Conspiracy by Don Brown Page B

sir.”
    Hardison stood. Adrenaline was starting to kick in.
    “Navigator. Plot a course to Altair Voyager. Advise on ETA at full power.”
    “Aye, Captain.” The navigator punched the coordinates into the sub’s navigational computer. “Estimated time of arrival at full power…twenty-two minutes, Captain.”
    “Very well. Radio. Contact Seventh Fleet. Mark it. USS Boise requests permission to surface to assist USS Ingraham in rescue efforts of tanker Altair Voyager.”
    The Andaman Sea
    3:14 p.m.
    C aptain Eichenbrenner lay back in the warm sea water, trying to stay afloat.
    Where was his crew? Perhaps they were swimming aft, trying to get out from under the thickening black smoke.
    “Skipper! Over here!”
    Eichenbrenner pulled his arms through the salt water and saw two of his men clinging to a single donut flotation device.
    The flotation rings were designed to hold one man, not two. “I’m okay!” he shouted. “You men keep that ring. I’ll be fine.”
    “Skipper. You better get over here!”
    The men kept motioning for him to swim in their direction. “Hurry, Skipper!”
    Instinct took over. If he didn’t get away from the ship, he’d be sucked under when it went down. He started swimming in the direction of their voices.
    “Swim away from the ship in the direction of the ship’s aft! Repeat, this is the United States Navy!”
    He pushed his arms through water and pulled down, beginning a backstroke. The sky blackened by the minute. If the cloud came much lower, it would cut off their oxygen.
    “Hurry, Skipper!”
    He pulled his hands through the water, then pushed water down from over his head to his sides.
    “Over here, Skipper!”
    A hand snatched his forearm, pulling him under. He popped up and found himself with two of his crew members, Seamen Tommy Grimes and Dennis Basnight. Each hung on the life ring.
    “It won’t hold us all, Skipper,” Basnight said, blowing sea water from his nose, “but it helps. Just kick a little. Maybe we can hang on long enough to get out from under this smoke so the chopper can throw us a line.”
    Eichenbrenner looked around. They were about fifty yards from the burning, smoking relic of the Altair Voyager. “Forget the smoke!” he said. “We’ve got to get away from the ship or we’ll get sucked down with it. Where are the men? Did they swim aft?”
    Basnight bobbed under the water, then bobbed back up. “The situation isn’t good, Skipper.”
    “No kidding!”
    “No, Skipper. I mean with the men. It’s not good.”
    “Skipper! Behind you! Watch out!” Grimes said.
    Eichenbrenner looked over his left shoulder.
    A dark gray triangular fin cut through the water in a flash. It disappeared. Eichenbrenner groaned.
    “Another one!” Basnight said. “Opposite direction! Get your legs up!”
    This one was swimming from their right. Eichenbrenner pulled his knees to his chest as the shark bore down on them.
    Twenty feet…
    Fifteen feet…
    Ten feet…
    The fin vanished.
    “Where’d it go?” blurted Basnight.
    “Maybe it’s gone,” Grimes said.
    A moment passed.
    Something slammed their legs. The jolt knocked the three men away from the life ring.
    Eichenbrenner went under and came back up splashing, gasping for air. Grimes and Basnight flailed in the water nearby.
    The life ring drifted off to the left, maybe ten feet away. Eichenbrenner started a breast stroke toward it.
    “Watch out!”
    The fin surfaced again, about fifteen feet to his right. It made quick, violent circles in the water, then disappeared.
    Eichenbrenner swam and instinctively prayed that he would reach the ring without being bitten in half.
    A few seconds later, his hand reached the flotation device.
    The shark resurfaced, maybe twenty-five feet away. It set a course directly for him. Angry white teeth like glistening sharp razors bore straight at him. Its black eyes blazed fury. It swirled in the water, then slowly started a death swim in his direction.
    “Dear