America Read Online Free

certainly earned their extra dough every month, Warfield thought, and were welcome to it.
    Warfield checked his watch. America had cast loose her lines right on time, just what he expected from Lenny Sterrett.
    Today the Coast Guard seemed on top of the small-boat situation, the navigator and senior quartermaster were on the bridge, and Warfield’s officer of the deck was the best he had, so the captain reached for a pile of paperwork on the small table beside his raised bridge chair. After one last glance around, he picked up the first document in the pile and began reading.
    *   *   *
    Standing in the wheelhouse of the tugboat pulling America away from the pier, Vladimir Kolnikov lifted his binoculars and aimed them yet again at John Paul Jones. The destroyer was making only a couple knots, yet it was there, ready.
    Ready for what?
    That was the question, wasn’t it? Ready for what?
    How good was the skipper of the destroyer? How fast could he handle the unexpected? How quickly could the crew obey unanticipated directives?
    â€œWhat do you think?” Georgi Turchak asked in Russian. He was at the helm of the tugboat. The captain of the tug lay in a corner of the small bridge, quite dead.
    â€œYou knew there would be destroyers,” Kolnikov replied without lowering his binoculars. “We are lucky there is only one.”
    â€œWhat if there is another submarine out there?”
    â€œThen we will soon be dead. Do you wish to back out now?”
    â€œNo, damn it. I wish you would tell me comforting things to make me think that we are going to pull this off, get filthy rich, and live to a ripe old age enjoying our money.”
    Kolnikov turned the binoculars, focused them on the captain of the submarine. He could see the features of his face plainly, see him talking to the officer of the deck, the OOD, and the lookouts, who were looking all over the horizon with their binoculars and paying no attention to the tugboat.
    â€œHe’s going to want to release the line any moment now,” Kolnikov said, more to himself than anyone else. He walked to the head of the ladder leading down.
    â€œAre you ready, Heydrich?”
    The man below looked about him at other men hidden from Kolnikov’s view. “Eck? Boldt? Steeckt?” There were fourteen men belowdecks, one on the fantail, and of course here on the bridge Kolnikov and Turchak, for a total of seventeen.
    Now the man below looked up the ladderway at Kolnikov. His face was one of large cheekbones and tiny eyes. “We are ready, Russki. Give the word.”
    â€œVery soon, I think.”
    *   *   *
    The band was playing “America, the Beautiful” when the OOD used a bullhorn to call the tugboat. He could still hear the music plainly even though the sub and tug were about seven hundred yards from the pier. “We are ready to release the tow,” he called.
    Releasing the tow was a relatively simple maneuver. When the tugboat reduced power, the towline would go slack so the submarine’s deck crew could release it from the towing cleat. Then the tug would accelerate away and the sub would proceed under its own power.
    Kolnikov signaled to the man on the fantail of the tug, who began winding the towline tighter around a power winch as Turchak at the helm gently reduced power on the tug’s engines.
    The distance between tug and submarine began to decrease, while the men on the sub’s deck waited in vain for slack to develop in the line.
    It took several seconds for Captain Lenny Sterrett and the OOD, Ellis Johnson, to comprehend what was happening. Sterrett spoke sharply to Johnson, who barked into the bullhorn, “Get off the winch and give me some slack.”
    The white foam coming from the tug’s fantail ceased as the distance between the two vessels closed. Kolnikov shouted at the man on the winch, waved his arms excitedly, and the distance continued to close until only