Chapter 4 / Page 2

The sea had been somewhat choppy—nothing terribly dangerous. A light overcast and moonless night made it relatively safe for the 404 to surface. Al Faw was to the north-northwest and Bandar-e-Khomeyni due north. They lay in the steady ocean swells fifty klicks south-southeast of the Tigris River.

The 404 had been specially modified for this mission. A nuclear boat had a better chance of relying on stealth than one of the antiquated diesels. An elevator was cut directly into the top of the hull aft of the sail. It lowered into a special storage facility capable of transporting chemical, biological, and nuclear materials. The chamber was sealed off from the rest of the boat. So were the men who served this hazardous duty. Nothing should go wrong with routine material transfers. There was, however, nothing routine about their material.

The elevator dropped like a sinkhole into the back of the 404. Special infrared lights were rigged to reduce the detection signature from overhead reconnaissance. Wong’s men wore night vision goggles to facilitate movement in complete darkness. During these operations, the watch was cancelled. The rest of the boat must be secured from any leakage. Night vision goggles are a marvelous invention, until you combine them with heavy biohazard suits and realize two kilograms of metal are hanging just beyond someone’s nose. Depth perception, normal movement, and balance are all suspect. Add a rolling sea and pitching deck, and accidents can happen.

Wong’s masters might understand an accident, but disaster and the possible loss of a nuclear boat were different matters. Other boats had been lost. Everyone knew about the Thresher—another failure by planners who did not realize the need for precision and care when sending boats to sea. All hands were lost off the Atlantic coast because the plumbing failed.

There were five stainless steel double-hulled casks. Each weighed three hundred kilos and required three men to safely manhandle them on the elevator platform. When it came down to it, the People’s Liberation Army Navy (PLAN) still relied on its abundant manpower to settle most problems. The platform was large enough to handle eight men. This night it carried four men and a cask up and down three times.

It was the third cask that caused the problems. It rose from the bowels of the submarine; a deadly bottle held by four men. The orange biohazard insignia were visible even in the darkness. Maybe this was where the elaborate preparations failed. Men working in bulky biohazard suits fitted with night vision goggles on a sloping deck. They would probably never know exactly what happened, but Wong would never forget what he witnessed.