A lucky bullet got the man in one leg. He curled up, grabbing for the wound. Dark blood threaded out as he convulsed. Air vomited from his open mouth through pain-tight teeth.
A second bullet hit him in the chest.
Grabbing him by the hair, Remo pulled him to the surface and got his face in both hands, holding it close to Remo's own.
"Look, your own guys just shot you. Give it up. Who's operating that sub?"
"Ga to hell, bloody Yank!" the man spit in a thick, heavily accented English.
The effort seemed to sap the last of his life force. He jerked, turned blue and his eyes rolled up in his head. His final breath was cold and foul. It smelled of some of hard liquor Remo didn't recognize.
Remo let him sink.
Striking back for the cutter, Remo caught a thrown line and pulled himself aboard.
Dripping wet, he stormed up to the bow. "What's the idea?" he demanded of Sandy Heckman.
"We were defending ourselves," she said tartly.
"I knocked out the gun crew before you got off your first shot."
"I didn't see you."
Remo turned on the Master of Sinanju, "Chiun, why the hell didn't you stop her?"
"Because."
"That's it? Because!"
"Yes. Because." And Chiun showed Remo his disdainful back.
They watched the sub sink. The stern went down, throwing the bow high above the water. It was as if the sub were straining to keep its head out of the water like a living thing.
Then, with agonizing slowness, the forepart of the submarine slipped beneath the waves.
But not before they could read a name on the bow:
Fier D'Etre des Grenouilles
"What's it say?" asked Remo.
"You are not blind," sniffed Chiun. "Merely myopic."
"I can see the words, but I don't recognize the language."
"It is French."
"No wonder I can't read it. French isn't a language. It's mumbling with grammar. What's it say?"
"Fier D'Etre des Grenouilles."
"That much I can make out. What's it mean in English?"
"'Proud to be frogs.'"
"That's the name of the submarine? Proud to be Frogs?"
"That is what the vessel is called."
Remo looked at Sandy Heckman. "What kind of submarine is named Proud to be Frogs?"
Sandy Heckman shrugged and said, "A French one?"
They watched the ocean settle down. Air bubbles, some as big as truck tires, popped the troubled surface. Nothing else. There were no survivors.
"Why didn't anyone get out?" Sandy asked of no one in particular.
"They didn't want to. They wanted to go down with the ship," said Remo.
"That's crazy. We're the U.S. Coast Guard. We would have taken them alive. Everybody knows that."
"Obviously they did not wish to be taken alive," intoned the Master of Sinanju.
That cold thought hung over the water as they watched the last blooping bubbles break the surface. Finally a rainbow slick of oil began to appear, marking the spot where the Fier D'Etre des Grenouilles had gone down.
Chapter 18
Remo got Harold Smith on the first ring.
"Sighted sub. Sank same," he said.
"What information did you extract?" asked Smith.
"We're pretty sure it was French. Either that or someone has a weird sense of humor."
"What do you mean, Remo?"
"When the sub went down, we caught a glimpse of the name. Fier D'Etre des Grenouilles."
Chiun cut in. "That is not how it is pronounced."
"You say it, then."
"Fier D'Etre des Grenouilles. "
Smith's voice was full of doubt. "That cannot be correct."