Doppelganger (34 page)

“We have no contacts within Fregat range, and Tasarov certifies no undersea threat. So I see no need to put the ship on a wartime footing until we know more.”

Karpov seemed unhappy with that. “We lose both
Orel
and
Slava
, and can no longer raise Severomorsk, or anyone else for that matter, and you see no need to take precautions? We should be more careful, Admiral.”

“Let us test your supposition, Mister Karpov. The submersible is in the water now, and on the way down. They will use both radar and sonar down there to give the seabed a good looking over. If there is wreckage, they should find it with no difficulty, as it would still be very warm on infrared. If we do find wreckage, then we have another scenario on our hands, but until I can determine what happened here, we will not yet assume it is World War Three.”

There it was, thought Fedorov. Karpov’s instinct for battle was not really misplaced, yet the Admiral’s caution and calm served to keep a lid on things. Fire and ice. He saw the Captain fold his arms, shoulders hunched, his eyes tight.

“Consider the situation carefully, Admiral,” he said. “there was clearly a detonation of some kind before we lost contact with
Orel
. The fact that now, more than 24 hours later, we still have no GPS or satellite links, is very telling.” He looked Fedorov’s way now. “Correct Lieutenant? I see you are finally back at your post.”

“Correct sir. No GPS or satellite data. No Loran-C out of Jan Mayen, though that signal has not been much used since 2006.”

“So you are plotting manually?”

“Yes sir, Petrov had correct coordinates.”

“Good….” Now Karpov lowered his voice slightly, speaking to the Admiral as Fedorov strained to hear their conversation.

“No satellites. Why is that, Admiral? We have gone over our equipment here from top to bottom. It is not a system failure. If those satellites are up there, then we should be able to bounce a signal off of them and get a response. But we get nothing! What does that tell you?”

“I agree, it is most alarming,” said Volsky. “Yet here we sit, the flagship of the Red Banner Northern Fleet, and surely a prime target of any war aim if a conflict were underway. Yet we have been cruising in circles over
Slava’s
last reported position for eighteen hours, and no one has bothered us. We’ve seen nothing, not a ship, nor any plane on our screens.”

“And let me suggest why that may be so,” said Karpov, lowering his voice to a whisper now. “If they hit us, then we surely hit them back. And they most assuredly hit us, Admiral, or we would not be looking for wreckage on the sea floor now.”

“That may be so,” said Volsky, “but yet we may have something else here, a simple accident. As I have said, until I know World War Three is actually underway, I have no intention of starting it myself. Now calm yourself, Captain. Set an example for the men. We will get our report from the submersible soon enough, and then the senior officers will discuss this, and we will decide what to do.”

Yet soon enough was not soon enough.

Tasarov looked over, the light of alarm in his eyes, and spoke.

“Con, Sonar. I have screw noise. Analyzing possible range now, but I’m estimating it is at least 80 kilometers out. Bearing 180 degrees… two distinct contacts, yet they are traveling together.”

“The Fregat system won’t pick them up for some time sir, said Rodenko. My Over the Horizon signal’s processor isn’t returning anything yet. It might still be suffering the effects from that incident with
Orel
. I can say one thing. I have no long wave IFF data. No recognizable signals emissions at all. They must be running silent.”

“There,” said Karpov. “Don’t tell me that is
Slava
towing those targeting barges. Two ships creeping up on us like a pair of thieves. They are most likely British destroyers, and if we had a helicopter up we would have seen them long ago. Recommend action stations and rig for missile defense at once!”

Chapter 30

The
warning sent Fedorov’s pulse running faster, for he knew this contact would appear to be just what Karpov suggested, ships running up, emissions silent, hoping to appear by stealth. Yet his mind raced to find a way to head off what could soon become a fatal collision. He looked at Admiral Volsky as he considered the situation.

“Mister Nikolin,” said the Admiral. “Hail those ships. Use English please, and request positive identification.”

True to form, Volsky’s instinct was to talk first and shoot later, just the opposite of what Karpov might have done. The Captain looked at him, waiting, and Volsky obliged him by ordering the ship to action stations.

“We will come to level three alert as a precaution, Mister Karpov. Let us see what develops here.”

“Very well. Make it so, Orlov. But think, Admiral. Two ships, with no IFF data and no signals emissions? It is obvious what they are doing, sir.”

“Yes,” said Volsky, “but yet it makes no sense. Our operations here should be no mystery to them. We were overflown by British reconnaissance planes three days ago, so they know we are out here. And they most certainly know our capabilities. Are you suggesting they are planning to attack us?”

“That may have already happened,” said Karpov sharply.

“Yet here we sit, without a scratch. How do they hit
Slava
and
Orel
with such precision while missing the main event? If these ships were the culprits they could have launched a missile attack long ago. Why move into visual range, and direct line of sight for our Fregat system? Would you attack in this manner?”

Karpov folded his arms, his face hard, but Volsky’s arguments did make some sense to him. No, he would not attack in so foolish a manner as this. His missiles would have been in the air long ago if this were a wartime scenario. Yet his impatience was obvious.

“Nikolin?” He looked at the communications station, waiting tensely for more information.

“Nothing sir. I get no response to my hails.”

“Not very friendly, Admiral,” said Karpov tersely.

Volsky frowned. “Keep trying, Mister Nikolin.”

“Admiral, sir.” Fedorov was unable to remain silent at the edge of this critical moment. “I suggest we send up helo at once and get eyes and cameras on this contact. I believe I can identify it easily if the helo gets me a profile.”

Karpov gave him a hard look. “If it isn’t shot down first,” he said with a scowl. “Mind your navigation plots, Mister Fedorov.”

Volsky considered, still waiting on Nikolin, but the young Lieutenant just shook his head. “I get no response, Admiral. They are running silent.”

“And yet they obviously know we have detected them… Tasarov, can you give us a fix on their course or speed?”

“Yes sir, they appear to be steady at about 20 knots. I’ve sent the data to Fedorov.”

“Sir,” said Fedorov again, eyeing Karpov warily. “I have plotted the exact heading and course from that data. They are not on an intercept course. If they continue without turning they will miss us by at well over twenty kilometers. I don’t think they are even aware of us yet.”

“Close enough,” said Karpov. “We are already well within range of their missile systems now. Why don’t they answer our hails? We are now within our rights to fire a warning shot. Perhaps that will loosen their tongues.”

“Mister Karpov,” said Volsky, somewhat irritated. “I have passed a hundred ships at sea, and many have not taken the time to chat with me on the radio. I might have ignored this contact myself in peacetime, but given the present circumstances, I requested identification. And I have seldom found it necessary to shoot at these passing ships, whether they bothered to fraternize or not. You are making many assumptions here that have not been proven. Are these warships? Civilian traffic?”

“Up here?” Karpov shook his head. “Where would civilian traffic be going? NATO was well aware, as you say, that we were here to conduct live fire exercises.”

“Yes? And they also may have determined that something has gone wrong. These ships could simply be investigating that possibility, as we might if the shoe were on the other foot. They might even be thinking to render assistance.”

“Then why don’t they contact us?”

“That remains a bit of a mystery.” Volsky thought for a moment, then turned to the Operations Chief. “Mister Orlov. Order the helo bay to send up the KA-226. They are to approach the contact, stating their identification and origin, and obtain a live video feed so that we can positively identify these ships. It appears our Navigator has plotted the most prudent course at the moment.”

“Aye sir.” Orlov was immediately on the intercom. “Helo bay—execute emergency launch. KA-226. Approach and identify seaborne contacts to the south. State ID and origin en-route on all channels. This is Chief Orlov.”

“I don’t like this sir,” said Karpov. “What is wrong with their radio sets? They are acting as though this were a wartime scenario, emissions tight and radio silent. I recommend we rig for missile defense and obtain targeting information now.”

“Our sonar system already tells us where they are,” said Volsky. “Mister Tasarov, pass active contact information to the C.I.C. Mister Samsonov, activate both Klinok and Kashtan close defense systems, but do not go live with targeting radars until I order this. Understood?”

“Defensive systems only?” said Karpov. “This is dangerous. At this range we would have just a few seconds to react if they launch a missile salvo.”

“I am well aware of that,” Volsky said quickly as they heard the sound of the helicopter engines turning over for liftoff, yet Karpov persisted.

“Our holds are crammed with surplus missiles for the live fire exercises. One hit sir… That is all it will take, and it need not even be in a critical location. If we get a fire…”

Volsky held up his hand, stilling the Captain’s warning. “Yes, Mister Karpov, everything we do at sea is dangerous, particularly in a situation like this. We are like two men here, with a bucket of gasoline between us. They know that as well as I do, and I do not suppose either one of us thinks lighting a cigarette is a very good idea now. Let us wait. They will see our helicopter launch as standard operating procedure. It will not be unexpected, particularly given their silence.”

“That is what concerns me,” said Karpov. “They clearly hear our hails, yet they remain silent. They can see what we are doing with the helicopter. Why don’t they respond?”

“I am considering all possibilities now,” said Volsky. “First off, they may be just as confused by the lack of outside radio transmissions as we are. We cannot raise Severomorsk, and they might not be able to reach their home bases either. You saw the effects in the sea and sky. Perhaps something bigger happened here, a solar event of some kind. It took us hours before we got our equipment sorted out. Perhaps theirs has not yet recovered.”

“Yet they also have helicopters, at least if this is a modern British Type 45 out there. The lack of radar signatures could also be a deliberate attempt at deception.”

“Or an abundance of caution,” Volsky said quickly. “I would not be so foolish as to maintain radio silence in this situation, but I have known many Captains who sometimes do foolish things at sea, particularly under stress—or under orders.”

“Agreed,” said Karpov, “but that suggests they have moved to a wartime footing, as we should by default given what has already happened. Where is
Orel
, Admiral? Where is
Slava?
We are the aggrieved party here, and we have every reason to assume the worst.”

“I do not disagree with you, but I choose to proceed as planned with the helicopter. If this is the Royal Navy, or perhaps Norwegian ships, then we will know in a matter of a few minutes. Which reminds me. Mister Nikolin, what did you learn from the weather station on Jan Mayen?”

“Nothing sir. They did not respond either.”

Now Volsky folded his arms, the situation becoming more serious with each passing moment. Why no radio response, from these ships or the facility on Jan Mayen? There was clearly a detonation of some kind, he thought. If Karpov was correct, then that was a submarine attack, possibly intending to take us out as well. Yet Tasarov is very, very good. He might have failed to detect a stealthy British sub, particularly if it was just lying in wait for us here, but he would have certainly heard torpedoes in the water, and without question. So I do not think
Orel
was targeted deliberately, yet the disappearance of
Slava
is most disturbing.

“Any word from the submersible?”

“They report all clear below, but they are still searching.”

Volsky nodded. Yes, where was
Slava
? That is the difficult piece of this puzzle. If there was an accident aboard
Orel
, we were much more vulnerable, within 5000 meters of that boat when it happened. Yet
Slava
was over 30 kilometers to the south, and well out of harm’s way. For it to simply disappear like this is a strong argument for Karpov’s view of things. One accident I might believe, but two, and both at the same time? That is preposterous… unless…

Sabotage…

That thought arose in his mind now like a dark shadow. The political situation has been very grim of late. There are many back home who are set on taking a hard line, just as Karpov might here. It is not outside the realm of possibility that someone would take such a rash action. Two old ships suddenly suffer catastrophic loss, but not
Kirov
, no, not the fleet flagship.
Slava
was ready for the bone yard, as was
Orel
, but this ship would be needed if it ever came to war. We are the heart of the entire Red Banner Northern Fleet.

“Nikolin,” he said. “Have you sent out an all ship’s respond on command level channels?”

“I have sir, on 272, but I get no response from any fleet unit.” He glanced furtively at Fedorov as he finished.

“Quite the little mystery here,” said the Admiral.

“Yet one that paints a very dark picture, Admiral.” Karpov still had that warning in his eyes.