Jack Ryan 4 - The Hunt for Red October (15 page)

Admiral Foster answered first. “Mr. President, our fleet is pulling to sea at this moment. Everything that'll steam is out already, or will be by tomorrow night. We've recalled our carriers from the
South Atlantic
, and we are redeploying our nuclear submarines to deal with this threat. We began this morning to saturate the air over their surface force with P-3C Orion patrol aircraft, assisted by British Nimrods operating out of
Scotland
. General?” Foster turned to Hilton.

“At this moment we have E-3A Sentry AWACS-type aircraft circling them along with Dan's Orions, both accompanied by F-15 Eagle fighters out of
Iceland
. By this time Friday we'll have a squadron of B-52s operating from Loring Air Base in
Maine
. These will be armed with Harpoon air-to-surface missiles, and they'll be orbiting the Soviets in relays. Nothing aggressive, you understand,” Hilton smiled. “Just to let them know we're interested. If they continue to come this way, we will redeploy some tactical air assets to the East Coast, and, subject to your approval, we can activate some national guard and reserve squadrons quietly.”

“Just how will you do that quietly?” Pelt asked.

“Dr. Pelt, we have a number of guard outfits scheduled to run through our Red Flag facility at Nellis in Nevada starting this Sunday, a routine training rotation. They go to
Maine
instead of
Nevada
. The bases are pretty big, and they belong to SAC.” Hilton referred to the Strategic Air Command. “They have good security.”

“How many carriers do we have handy?” the president asked.

“Only one at the moment, sir, Kennedy.
Saratoga
stripped a main turbine last week, and it'll take a month to replace. Nimitz and
America
are both in the
South Atlantic
right now,
America
coming back from the
Indian Ocean
, Nimitz heading out to the Pacific. Bad luck. Can we recall a carrier from the eastern Med?”

“No.” The president shook his head. “This
Cyprus
thing is still too sensitive. Do we really need to? If anything . . .  untoward happens, can we handle their surface force with what we have at hand?”

“Yes, sir!” General Hilton said at once. “Dr. Ryan said it: the
Atlantic
is our ocean. The air force alone will have over five hundred aircraft designated for this operation, and another three or four hundred from the navy. If any sort of shooting match develops, that Soviet fleet will have an exciting and short life.”

“We will try to avoid that, of course,” the president said quietly. “The first press reports surfaced this morning. We had a call from Bud Wilkins of the Times right before lunch. If the American people find out too soon what the scope of this is  . . . Jeff?”

“Mr. President, let's assume for the moment that Dr. Ryan's analysis is correct. I don't see what we can do about it,” Pelt said.

“What?” Ryan blurted. “I, ah, beg your pardon, sir.”

“We can't exactly steal a Russian missile sub.”

“Why not!” Foster demanded. “Hell, we have enough of their tanks and aircraft.” The other chiefs agreed.

“An aircraft with a crew of one or two is one thing, Admiral. A nuclear-powered submarine with twenty-six rockets and a crew of over a hundred is something else. Naturally, we can give asylum to the defecting officers.”

“So, you're saying that if the thing does come sailing into
Norfolk
,” Hilton joined in, “we give it back! Christ, man, it carries two hundred warheads! They just might use those goddamned things against us someday, you know. Are you sure you want to give them back?”

“That's a billion-dollar asset, General,” Pelt said diffidently.

Ryan saw the president smile. He was said to like lively discussions. “Judge, what are the legal ramifications?”

“That's admiralty law, Mr. President.”
Moore
looked uneasy for once. “I've never had an admiralty practice, takes me all the way back to law school. Admiralty is jus gentium—the same legal codes theoretically apply to all countries. American and British admiralty courts routinely cite each other's rulings. But as for the rights that attach to a mutinous crew—I have no idea.”

“Judge, we are not dealing with mutiny or piracy,” Foster noted. “The correct term is barratry, I believe. Mutiny is when the crew rebels against lawful authority. Gross misconduct of the officers is called barratry. Anyway, I hardly think we need to attach legal folderol to a situation involving nuclear weapons.”

“We might, Admiral,” the president mused. “As Jeff said, this is a highly valuable asset, legally their property, and they will know we have her. I think we are agreed that not all the crew is likely to be in on this. If so, those not party to the mutiny—barratry, whatever—will want to return home after it's all over. And we'll have to let them go, won't we?”

“Have to?” General Maxwell was doodling on a pad. “Have to?”

“General,” the president said firmly, “we will not, repeat not, be party to the imprisonment or murder of men whose only desire is to return to home and family. Is that understood?” He looked around the table. “If they know we have her, they'll want her back. And they will know we have her from the crewmen who want to return home. In any case, big as this thing is, how could we hide her?”

“We might be able to,” Foster said neutrally, “but as you say, the crew is a complication. I presume we'll have the chance to look her over?”

“You mean conduct a quarantine inspection, check her for seaworthiness, maybe make sure they're not smuggling drugs into the country?” The president grinned. “I think we might arrange that. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. There's a lot of ground to cover before we get to that point. What about our allies?”

“The English just had one of their carriers over here. Could you use her, Dan?” General Hilton asked.

“If they let us borrow her, yes. We just finished that ASW exercise south of
Bermuda
, and the Brits acquitted themselves well. We could use Invincible, the four escorts, and the three attack boats. The force is being recalled at high speed because of this.”

“Do they know of this development, Judge?” the president asked.

“Not unless they've developed it themselves. This information is only a few hours old.”
Moore
did not reveal that Sir Basil had his own ear in the Kremlin. Ryan didn't know much about it himself, had only heard some disconnected rumblings.

“With your permission, I have asked Admiral Greer to be ready to fly to
England
to brief the prime minister.”

“Why not just send—”

Judge Moore was shaking his head. “Mr. President, this information—let's say it's only delivered by hand.” Eyebrows went up all around the table.

“When is he leaving?”

“This evening, if you wish. There are a couple of VIP flights leaving Andrews tonight. Congressional flights.” It was the usual end-of-session junket season. Christmas in
Europe
, on fact-finding missions.

“General, do we have anything quicker?” the president asked Hilton.

“We can scratch up a VC-141. Lockheed JetStar, almost as fast as a -135, and we can have it up in half an hour.”

“Do it.”

“Yes, sir, I'll call them in right now.” Hilton rose and walked to a phone in the corner.

“Judge, tell Greer to pack his bags. I'll have a cover letter waiting for him on the plane to give to the prime minister. Admiral, you want the Invincible?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll get her for you. Next, what do we tell our people at sea?”

“If October just sails in, it won't be necessary, but if we have to communicate with her—”

“Excuse me, Judge,” Ryan said, “that is rather likely—that we'll have to. They'll probably have these attack boats on the coast before she gets here. If so, we'll have to warn her off if only to save the defecting officers. They are out to locate and sink her.”

“We haven't detected her. What makes you think they can?” Foster asked, miffed at the suggestion.

'They did build her, Admiral. So they might know things about her that will enable them to locate her more easily than us."

“Makes sense,” the president said. “That means somebody goes out to brief the fleet commanders. We can't broadcast this, can we, Judge?”

“Mr. President, this source is too valuable to compromise in any way. That's all I can say here, sir.”

“Very well, somebody flies out. Next thing is, we'll have to talk to the Soviets about this. For the moment they can say that they're operating in home waters. When will they pass
Iceland
?”

“Tomorrow night, unless they change course,” Foster answered.

“Okay, we give it a day, for them to call this off and for us to confirm this report. Judge, I want something to back up this fairy tale in twenty-four hours. If they haven't turned back by
midnight
tomorrow, I'll call Ambassador Arbatov into my office Friday morning.” He turned to the chiefs. “Gentlemen, I want to see contingency plans for dealing with this situation by tomorrow afternoon. We will meet here tomorrow at two. One more thing: no leaks! This information does not go beyond this room without my personal approval. If this story breaks to the press, I'll have heads on my desk. Yes, General?”

“Mr. President, in order to develop those plans,” Hilton said after sitting back down, “we have to work through our field commanders and some of our own operations people. Certainly we'll need Admiral Blackburn.”
Blackburn
was CINCLANT, commander in chief of the
Atlantic
.

“Let me think that one over. I'll be back to you in an hour. How many people at the CIA know about this?”

“Four, sir. Ritter, Greer, Ryan, and myself, sir. That's all.”

“Keep it that way.” The president had been bedeviled by security leaks for months.

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Meeting is adjourned.”

The president stood.
Moore
walked around the table to keep him from leaving at once. Dr. Pelt stayed also as the rest filed out of the room. Ryan stood outside the door.

“That was all right.” General Maxwell grabbed his hand. He waited until everyone else was a few yards down the hall before going on. “I think you're crazy, son, but you sure put a burr under Dan Foster's saddle. No, even better: I think he got a hard-on.” The little general chuckled. “And if we get the sub, maybe we can change the president's mind and arrange for the crew to disappear. The judge did that once, you know.” It was a thought that chilled Ryan as he watched Maxwell swagger down the hall.

“Jack, you want to come back in here a minute?”
Moore
's voice called.

“You're an historian, right?” the president asked, reviewing his notes. Ryan hadn't even noticed him holding a pen.

“Yes, Mr. President. That's what my graduate degree's in.” Ryan shook his hand.

“You have a fine sense of the dramatic, Jack. You would have made a decent trial lawyer.” The president had made his reputation as a hard-driving state's attorney. He had survived an unsuccessful Mafia assassination attempt early in his career which hadn't hurt his political ambitions one bit. “Damned nice briefing.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.” Ryan beamed.

“The judge tells me you know the commander of that British task force.”

It was like a sandbag hitting his head. “Yes, sir. Admiral White. I've hunted with him, and our wives are good friends. They're close to the Royal Family.”

“Good. Somebody has to fly out to brief our fleet commander, then go on to talk to the Brits, if we get their carrier, as I expect we will. The judge says we ought to let Admiral Davenport go out with you. So, you fly out to Kennedy tonight, then on to Invincible.”

“Mr. President, I—”

“Come now, Dr. Ryan,” Pelt smiled thinly. “You are uniquely suited to this. You already have access to the intelligence, you know the British commander, and you're a naval intelligence specialist. You fit. Tell me, how eager do you think the navy is about getting this Red October?”

“Of course they're interested in it, sir. To get a chance to look at it, better yet to run it, take it apart, and run it some more. It would be the intelligence coup of all time.”

“That's true. But maybe they're a little too eager.”

“I don't understand what you mean, sir,” Ryan said, though he understood it just fine. Pelt was the president's favorite. He was not the Pentagon's favorite.

“They might take a chance that we might not want them to take.”

“Dr. Pelt, if you're saying that a uniformed officer would—”

“He's not saying that. At least not exactly. What he's saying is that it might be useful for me to have somebody out there who can give me an independent, civilian point of view.”

“Sir, you don't know me.”

“I've read a lot of your reports.” The chief executive was smiling. It was said he could turn dazzling charm on and off like a spotlight. Ryan was being blinded, knew it, and couldn't do a thing about it. “I like your work. You have a good feel for things, for facts. Good judgment. Now, one reason I got to where I am is good judgment, too, and I think you can handle what I have in mind. The question is, will you do it, or won't you?”

“Do what, exactly, sir?”

“After you get out there, you stay put for a few days, and report directly to me. Not through channels, directly to me. You'll get the cooperation you need. I'll see to that.”

Ryan didn't say anything. He'd just become a spy, a field officer, by presidential fiat. Worse, he'd be spying on his own side.

“You don't like the idea of reporting on your own people, right? You won't be, not really. Like I said, I want an independent, civilian opinion. We'd prefer to send an experienced case officer out, but we want to minimize the number of people involved in this. Sending Ritter or Greer out would be far too obvious, whereas you, on the other hand, are a relative—”

“Nobody?” Jack asked.

“As far as they're concerned, yes,” Judge Moore replied. “The Soviets have a file on you. I've seen parts of it. They think you're an upper-class drone, Jack.”

I am a drone, Ryan thought, unmoved by the implicit challenge. In this company I sure as hell am.

“Agreed, Mr. President. Please forgive me for hesitating. I've never been a field officer before.”

“I understand.” The president was magnanimous in victory. “One more thing. If I understand how submarines operate, Ramius could just have taken off, not saying anything. Why tip them off? Why the letter? The way I read this, it's counterproductive.”