The mild sounds of the evening, the heritage noises of wind and tide have been by surprise shattered by means of the special crack and scream of the upcoming shell. It exploded on effect with the water no longer twenty toes from the Pallas' starboard bow.
The Pallas, the defiant snarl of her emergency klaxon echoing around the water and tough the death wake of the explosion, crash-dived.
Lieutenant Commander Duncan Graham knew they'd been fortunate in this undertaking. Getting a desperately wounded guy out of the Japanese-occupied Philippines had appeared an very unlikely activity, yet that they had made the touch and succeeded. Now it appeared that their good fortune had run out. They have been lower than assault, and all of the virtue lay with the enemy.
The Pallas used to be in enemy waters, and on board was once the guy the japanese so desperately desired to silence - the fellow who knew in their plans to damage the Allied warfare attempt within the Pacific.
"Moloch" they'd named him, and he had gained the acceptance because the most sensible intelligence agent ever to function opposed to the japanese. yet "Moloch" was once demise, the final nice mystery locked in his brain. And he used to be demise aboard the submarine despatched out to convey him home.