Seas of Crisis (30 page)

“But if you nuke this base while you’re here you’ll be killed!”

Jeffrey forced a nasty smile. “You said I was a trip wire. I am, in fact, much more than that. Think of me as a walking dead-man’s switch. No good news by midnight, which gives you less than twenty-four hours by the way, then the strike occurs regardless of my personal situation, what I say, and whether or not my government is even in contact with me.”

Meredov jumped up from his chair. “Such a strategy by Washington is utterly reckless! It’s madness!”

Jeffrey stayed seated, feigning calm. “You also said I’d come to test your good faith.”

Meredov hesitated. “Yes?”

“I am here, given my value to my country and my experience, to demonstrate my government’s resolve. I come in hopes of helping achieve a positive resolution to the murderous actions attempted but thwarted at Srednekolymsk. In order to avoid a full-scale nuclear exchange between our countries, if need be I’m prepared to give my life. Aren’t
you,
Admiral?”

“I’ve always been prepared to give my life for the Motherland.”

Jeffrey stared at Meredov. “Do we understand each other?” He glanced at the clock on a wall. “You have until midnight.”

Meredov sat down and let out a long breath. “Yes. We understand each other.”

“So who launched those missiles and why?”
Jeffrey banged the table with a clenched fist. The translator was startled. Meredov looked pained.

“We do not yet know. It might have been rogues or invaders. I’m told this is being actively investigated.”

“As far as my country is aware, and as far as my president sees it, Russia attempted a first strike against America.
Your
country, with the authorization of
your
commander in chief, and the rest is all lies!”

“But—”

“Verbal excuses will carry no weight! How can you possibly explain
this
?” Jeffrey reached into his bag and pulled out the transcript of the Hot Line call, before the SS-27s lifted off.

Since it was in English, Meredov gave it to the translator. “Read it aloud in Russian,” he ordered, pointing at the conference phone.

Meredov’s face turned crimson as he started to understand what the transcript said. “I myself am puzzled. I do not think my commander in chief would mislead yours intentionally, on topics of such importance, when the likelihood of deception being found out was so great. Perhaps he was misled by intermediate-level commanders, who were confused or who sought to protect themselves.”

“Between nations, Admiral, the whole is held responsible for the actions of its parts.”

Meredov nodded reluctantly.

Jeffrey leaned forward. “Listen carefully, you and those in Vladivostok, and in Moscow when they hear this as a recording. . . . If extremists launched those missiles, in some analogy to the attempted provocation by the Golf-class sub in nineteen-sixty-eight, and other suspect events since then, the Kremlin is answerable. Answerable for failing to adequately safeguard its own thermonuclear missiles during a time of terrible international strife. And answerable for failing to maintain adequate internal security as to conspiracies and splinter groups within the Kremlin’s own power structure. If we did not have our stealth space-based missile shield in place, tragedy would have occurred. Instead of us sitting here talking, our two countries would be busy fighting a strategic nuclear war!
Do you grasp how serious things are?
”

“What is this missile shield? I thought Russian rogues created the electromagnetic pulses over Moscow on purpose, or the missiles were aimed at America but detonated early due to some error in fusing inputs or a hardware or software fault.”

This is the critical moment. To make it real, I need to keep it tight, almost as an afterthought, and sound blasé. Overexplaining or going verbose would only cast doubt.

The Hot Line would be used to convey its technical details—that part of the script wasn’t Jeffrey’s job, unless pressed.

“The shield’s very existence is classified. I was informed by radio only because I had a need to know, as part of my tasking to meet with you. It has the capability to make enabled, unlocked hydrogen bombs on ballistic missiles launched against America detonate prematurely in the vacuum of space, after their boost phase is complete, to inflict punishment on the aggressor and discourage further provocation or escalation.”

Meredov was astonished. “The nuclear explosions were caused by your missile shield?”

“The punishment inflicted is proportional, discriminate, appropriate, nonlethal, and nonescalatory. My government views this retaliation as entirely justified under international law.”

“Such points, I am not qualified to debate. But why has such an amazing capability been kept secret?”

“I suppose to not tempt an adversary into striking before it was ready. . . . Don’t evade me, Admiral. I repeat my question. Who was responsible for launching those missiles? And I don’t mean who turned the keys. I mean who made the decision, issued the authorization? If you don’t come up with some good answers soon, my commander in chief will feel righteously entitled to inflict more such pulses on Russia, beyond the tactical nuclear strike launched from
Challenger,
using
American
ICBMs. We will be protected by our special shield, while we send your whole country back to the age of the telegraph and the hot air balloon!”

Meredov’s face turned white this time. “Captain, please. There may very well have been no authorization. The missile complex is a crime scene, a battlefield, and a toxic hot spot all in one. Vladivostok told me an investigation is under way. Such things always take time.”

“Speaking of which, where’s our patch into the Hot Line? The clock is ticking, and
Challenger
is lurking where you’ll never find her soon enough.”

Meredov turned to the doorway. “Irina!”

She appeared in a moment. “Yes, Admiral?”

“Call Vladivostok on another line and see what’s causing the delay with us hearing from Moscow and Washington.”

“At once, sir. And I didn’t want to interrupt, but Rear Admiral Balakirev phoned you twice.”

“What did he want?”

“He wants to know if he can fly here to meet Captain Fuller, and how is the computer analysis coming since it’s been a while.”

What computer analysis?

“Tell him the analysis is on hold due to more important problems, and whether he is invited to meet with our guest is up to his superiors, not me.”

“Yes, Admiral. I would also like to speak with you in private for a moment.”

Meredov sighed and stood.

“Excuse me, please, Captain. My regrets.”

“Who’s Balakirev?”

“Rear Admiral Balakirev is my counterpart in Anadyr, covering the coast and waters around the Bering Strait.” Meredov spoke into the conference phone. “I am stepping from the room. I am muting the phone, and will return shortly.”

When Meredov left the conference room, Irina beckoned for him to follow. Puzzled, he went to her office across the hall.

She closed the door. “There’s something you need to see.”

“Yes?”

“Regarding the computer analysis, Admiral.”

“Go on. Quickly.”

She placed a false-color image, a computer printout, on her desk. He examined it. “These are the spires in the strait?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What are these red and orange dots and blobs?”

“Echo returns from the ships’ and sonobuoy’s active sonars, that our supercomputer eked from all the data Anadyr sent us.”

The fuzzy colors traced the shape of a submarine in profile.

“So there
was
a hostile contact. It
did
just sit still and wait out the depth charges. . . . It used some sort of very effective out-of-phase ping cancellation to conceal itself.”

Malinkova nodded. “That’s what the computer center says.”

“Can they identify the class of submarine?”

“Its dimensions as revealed by the dots indicate a length of about one-hundred-ten meters, and a beam close to twelve meters.”

“That eliminates most possibilities.”

“Yes, sir. The wide diameter of the hull is key, when combined with its length as a fast-attack. It can only be USS
Seawolf,
USS
Connecticut,
or USS
Challenger.
And our intelligence reports say that
Seawolf
and
Connecticut
are on the other side of the world, operating near South Africa.”

“So it was in fact Captain Fuller’s ship that Balakirev’s forces pinned down temporarily?”

“Yes, sir. It appears quite certain.”

“Does he know this?”

“Rear Admiral Balakirev? No, sir. I thought you should see this first, as soon as the analysis was ready.”

Meredov started to think out loud. “And the depth charging was almost two weeks ago.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s the distance from the Bering Strait to where
Challenger
first made contact with us by radio?”

“Less than two thousand miles, sir, even allowing for an indirect route.”

Meredov did the arithmetic in his head. “So if she were moving constantly, she’d have made an average speed of less than seven knots.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why would a vessel who’s maximum quiet speed is at least twenty-five knots move so slowly for such a long time?”

“I don’t know, Admiral. It does seem odd, unless she had some mission in our waters.”

“I won’t mention this to Captain Fuller right away, because I don’t want him on his guard before I’m ready to corner him with his own words. His being in the Laptev Sea when the missiles launched is awfully convenient. Too convenient.”

“You think it wasn’t coincidence, sir?”

“Who fired the decoy that pretended to be
Challenger
?”

“The real
Challenger,
maybe? But why?”

“I can think of several reasons, and I don’t like any of them. . . . All right. Very good work, Irina. Express my thanks to the analysts. Inform Vladivostok immediately by secure line, but beyond that, you and the computer center are to say nothing about this to anyone. . . . Something here doesn’t make sense. Something here doesn’t make any sense at all.”

Meredov folded the sheet, and put it in his jacket pocket.

When the Skat neared the Malyy Chaunskiy Strait and marshy Ayon Island, Nyurba removed the Red Cross
flags, to alter the Skat’s disguise. He told the SEAL to steer north, into the open East Siberian Sea, away from Pevek. The swells were mild; the hovercraft barely lost speed. Still making fifty knots, but running low on fuel again, they reached the long-planned rendezvous point, according to the inertial navigation readout.

“All stop on propulsion engines. Full power to lift fan.”

They coasted to a halt, bobbing gently on the air cushion. He ordered two men to throw hand grenades over the sides, in groups of four, as if they were trying to kill escaping combat swimmers—a subterfuge meant for any snooping hydrophones or watching aircraft. The men hurled the grenades as far as they could, to not damage the lift skirts. Each raised a spout when it detonated. The water was one hundred thirty feet deep. The grenades were the prearranged signal for
Carter.
Nyurba waited.

It’s been five days. So many things could’ve gone wrong.

And if
Carter
is compromised, then so is
Challenger—
and Commodore Fuller, ashore by now, is trapped in a fabric of lies.

Suddenly, a dozen divers broke the surface at the bow, pulling coffinlike pressure-proof capsules, with built-in backboards and oxygen masks for bringing wounded through cold seawater into a submarine. Nyurba rushed to help the divers load the twelve worst stretcher cases. The divers said that Captain Harley had ordered both superstructure lockout chambers, and the trunk inside the sail, all to be used at once to save time; the top of the sail was only thirty feet beneath the surface.

After a nerve-wracking wait, the divers came back, their capsules empty. Ten more wounded were shuttled into
Carter,
along with the bodies of two commandos who’d, sadly, died on the ride in the Skat. Then waterproof equipment bags went, filled with digital cameras, top-secret manuals from the bunkers, and Nyurba’s hard-won pollution data and environmental samples.

The fit passengers buddy-breathed with divers, pure oxygen easing their lungs, suppressing the worst of their coughing.

The hovercraft’s crew might have somehow been useful alive, but not anymore. Nyurba shot them with his reloaded PRI.
If executing prisoners is a war crime, let Russia blame Germany.
The chief turned the Skat southwest, back toward the Kolyma as a ruse. Using duct tape, they fixed the rudders to hold that course. They shoved the throttles forward and taped them there. Before the Skat—horribly noisy outside—could gain speed, they jumped overboard. Buddy-breathing with two SEALs, they locked into
Carter
’s sail trunk, ready to decontaminate.

Chapter 29

M
y apologies,” Meredov said as he reentered his conference room. He unmuted the phone. “Vladivostok, I have returned.”

“What’s going on with the Hot Line?” Jeffrey pressed.

“My aide is finding out. She’ll let us know. The Kremlin was very hard hit by the twin electromagnetic pulses.”

Jeffrey had achieved his initial goals for the meeting, delivered his pointed queries and table-thumping messages, and introduced the premise of a next-generation missile shield. But he wasn’t supposed to work this as a lone wolf. And the artificial midnight deadline, meant to squeeze Moscow, was also putting a squeeze on him. Would the Kremlin, de facto, call that bluff, just by quietly, gradually running out the deadline?

“At least patch me through to my president.”

“Preparations are still being made,” that grumpy voice said over the speakerphone from Vladivostok.

While this could be true, it was also an age-old Russian excuse to stall, for their own inscrutable reasons. An uncomfortable Jeffrey saw that, in effect, they were holding him incommunicado.
What’s going on behind my back, that even Meredov doesn’t know about?
He let Meredov make the next move.

“I have to ask you some questions.”

Jeffrey grew more cautions. “Certain things, I can’t comment on.”

“I understand. But clarity is necessary to piece together the clues we do have about what happened at Srednekolymsk. Allow me.” Meredov stood and went to the whiteboard. He took a blue pen from the shelf and removed the cap. “I’m not sure who will centrally coordinate the investigation, Captain. For some things it might be helpful if you and I get a head start while Vladivostok listens.”

The translator leaned over to the phone and murmured that Rear Admiral Meredov was drawing a diagram for Captain Fuller.

“The more information you can provide to me, Admiral,” Jeffrey said, “the better for Russia’s sake. An appearance of procrastinating will very much displease my commander in chief. Dissuading him from a harsh response is not part of my orders.”

“The question remains, who is responsible for launching the missiles?” Meredov wrote on the board, “Who did it?”

Jeffrey nodded impatiently.
Is this a delaying tactic, or is he leading somewhere? And if the latter, is he helping me or laying a trap?

“What I have been told by officials on the scene is that the group that attacked the silo complex and entered some of the launching bunkers gave every appearance of being Russians. That is, ethnic groups from the mainstream populations, such as Eastern Slav or Siberian. With equipment and language skills, even dental work assessed on initial examination of the corpses, that appear to be truly from the Russian Federation.”

“So some of the attackers were killed?”

“Yes, about thirty-five.”

Jeffrey tried to remain expressionless. “How many attackers were there?”

“Over two hundred, the few survivors of the initial firefight say. All very heavily armed. Which is consistent with the casualties they inflicted on our counterattacking forces.”

Hah! That’s triple the number of men Kurzin had. . . . But it also means he suffered almost fifty percent killed in action.

“Where are the others? Taken prisoner? Interrogate them!”

“None were captured. And where they went after missile liftoff is still a major mystery. They vanished amid the confusion and the casualty evacuations. . . . But this hits on two related questions, aside from who exactly they were or who sent them. How did they get there? And how did they escape? I suppose, come to think of it, we should make that second question present tense, since their escape is currently in progress.”

Again Jeffrey nodded, wordlessly.

“We should start with a list of possible perpetrators. Being objective and open-minded.”

“Put down Russian rogue faction,” Jeffrey said.

“Yes. Motive being to embarrass or take over the government.”

“And put down Russian government.”

“But—”

“Write it! You agreed to be objective. The Kremlin has not been ruled out! Blaming unnamed rogues for your actions is too convenient to be so lightly dismissed!”

A funny look crossed Meredov’s face. “Then also America.”

“
What?
What could our motive possibly be?”

Is he fishing, or does he know something?

“You are displeased with our logistics support of Germany.”

“Then put down Germany too if you put down America.” This was Jeffrey’s most critical task, to shape Russian thoughts to focus on Berlin as orchestrater of the Srednekolymsk raid.

Meredov was skeptical, even shocked at the suggestion. “What would
their
motive be?”

“Weaken both our countries, and then maybe attack you.”

“Why would they attack us? We’re already helping them.”

“Our intelligence knows all about the bonds they give you. Payable with plunder they intend to confiscate from the occupied countries once the fighting stops and the bonds come due.”

“You have the advantage of me on this.”

“Trust me. It’s easy enough to confirm. So greed would be a German motive. Instead of paying you, they conquer you. Or they sense they won’t win the fighting, and fear you’ll sense it too. Look. They’re evacuating North Africa as fast as they possibly can, before the Allied advance in that theater resumes.”

“This also is new information for me.”

“And also easy to confirm. So what do you think they’ll do with all those troops and tanks and aircraft once they’re removed from Africa, and they’ve had time to lick their wounds? The Axis needs to reestablish their evil empire’s outward momentum.”

“Defend southern Europe.”

“They can do that with nuclear cruise missiles alone, to make the Med impassable for Allied amphibious or airborne assaults. Cheap and effective. . . . I’ll tell you what they’ll do. Their main forces will turn east, and cancel their debts by canceling your sovereignty.”

“Hitler tried to conquer us, and look what happened to him.”

“Hitler was an incompetent who went completely insane, and he didn’t have tactical nuclear weapons.”

“We have strategic rockets with hydrogen bombs.”

“Which when they leave the atmosphere are exposed to our space-based missile shield. The U.S. is unlikely to sort out where the rockets are aimed before setting them off right over your own heads. . . . Ground-hugging German cruise missiles on mobile launchers with fission bombs are effective weapons in a counter-city or counter-industry strike. They’re an effective deterrent against you striking first from inside the atmosphere, say with cruise missiles or nuclear bombers of your own.”

“I view a German attack on us of any sort as unlikely.”

“But not implausible. And ‘not implausible’ is what counts in this context, not what’s ‘likely.’ Your conventional forces are weak, spread thin. You know it. Germany knows it.”

“Yes.”

Time to plant the seeds, and let them sprout in the minds of everyone who hears this conversation.
“Once your government realizes Germany has had too many setbacks already on land and at sea, and can’t prevail against the Allies without doing something exceedingly drastic, Moscow will cut logistic support to Berlin since they’ll never get paid. They’ll refuse to deliver more Eight-six-eight-U submarines. There’d be bad consequences, repercussions, realignments sought in Berlin as a result.”

“These are murky waters, yet there is logic to what you say. Germany would be cornered into attacking us, to grab what she can no longer buy. Provoking a limited nuclear exchange between us and America, to soften us up first, aids her cause on two fronts at once. . . . But German raiders could have programmed the missiles to go off over Moscow . . . which if true would suggest that your claimed new missile shield is in fact sheer flummery.”

Jeffrey was ready and waiting for this one. He tore into the admiral. “I dare you to test it. Launch another armed SS-27 at the U.S. See what happens to Russia.”

Meredov didn’t even blink. “Don’t taunt me. . . . A
test
appears unneeded. . . . If the Germans achieved armed launches at all, inflicting EMPs on Moscow squanders the missiles. It wastes the larger chance to hurt you
and
our joint relations, by landing warheads in America. Thus, positing the culprits were German does
not
imply your shield is a mere fabrication.”

“So put it down, Admiral. Write ‘Germany’ on the board.”

“And China? The war destabilizes world trade at a time that’s bad for Beijing. They’re displeased that we favor Germany in our exportation of natural gas and oil and weapons, which is also stifling China’s economic and military growth.”

“Displeased enough to frame you for nuking America?”

“I doubt it, but I’ll put them down, too.”

“Okay. That’s our list of culprits. In other words, at this point, it could’ve been almost anybody. So, what next?”

“Events suggest the attackers infiltrated by submarine.”

“Foreigners?”

“Maybe not. A rogue faction with penetration into the Northern or Pacific Fleet could have sent them.”

“I see what you’re getting at.”

“But I don’t think they were from Russia.”

Bingo.
“Why not?”

“The timing and speeds and distances aren’t right. We know that a submarine penetrated the Russian side of the Bering Strait from the south and evaded attack by Balakirev’s forces, then very slowly entered the waters for which I’m held responsible. . . . A decoy pretending to be
Challenger
is an especially baffling conundrum. Why was it launched at all? To mislead, or to draw attention? Why pretend to be
Challenger
in particular? Why send it on the specific course it followed?”

Whoops.
Not
bingo. Better think fast.

“I suppose I should be flattered that someone thought they’d gain, somehow, by pretending to be me. Which seems consistent with another country, not America, being the perpetrator and seeking to implicate the U.S. circumstantially. Doesn’t it?”

“It wasn’t you who launched the decoy?”

“No, I did not launch any decoys.” Jeffrey wondered if Meredov could tell that he’d just been lied to again. The admiral, a seasoned infighter and shrewd managerial gamesman, had a good poker face of his own.

Meredov began drawing a map on the whiteboard, similar to the one on the other wall, but with just the highlights of the northern coastal waters and islands. He wrote “Decoy” in the East Siberian Sea, added the date and time it was launched, and drew an arrow in the direction the decoy had headed. He didn’t say or write anything about
K-335.
He did make a mark in the Bering Strait, with the date and time for that depth charging.

“The false report of detecting
Challenger,
the decoy, caused a heightened alert among submarine and antisubmarine units, including mine. But the Strategic Rocket Forces didn’t pay it any attention. In retrospect they should have.”

“Seems so.”
It’s taking an awfully long while for the Hot Line to get working.

“But there was more. Some of my people who track drifting ice that might threaten the Northern Sea Route summer shipping lanes noticed a large piece of floe that was behaving strangely.” Meredov drew more arrows, marked “Wind” and “Current.” Then he drew a big “U” on the map, from the edge of the ice cap to the coast and back to the cap. He put in more dates and times.

“The floe had an ice hummock on one side. I thought perhaps this accounted for the odd course it followed, with prevailing winds and surface currents coming from opposite directions. But prior events had strongly aroused my suspicions. Having slept on the problem, I sent helicopters to locate the floe and make an examination. From very close. By landing on it.”

“What did you find?”

“The hummock was gone.”

“Melted.”

“No. It was never a hummock to begin with.”

“Admiral?”

“Holes and wear marks and fibers left on the floe made it clear that a submarine had moored itself to the floe, gone south with it, then returned to the edge of the cap, cut loose, and disappeared under the pack ice.”

“That’s how the attackers came ashore?”

“I raised a second alarm at once. This time the army paid attention. They found tracks left by a group of commandos, roughly following the Alazeja River, coming inland, heading south. At first I was worried that they might be after my headquarters. But then we realized that the commandos had gone the other way, toward Srednekolymsk.”

“What happened next?”

“All this took several days, you understand. But finally the Strategic Rocket Forces put the base complex there on highest alert against intruders. Even so, hours later the commandos made their attack. Which, as you know, was successful.”

“So you’re saying that your antisubmarine operations provided adequate warning, coupled with tracking by the Army, and
still
the base was penetrated?”

“Yes.”

“It sounds more and more like the commandos had inside help. Either from the government, or from rogues hiding within the government. Sorry, Admiral, this doesn’t support Russia’s case. The Kremlin is so in bed with Berlin, and has been so unreceptive to American diplomatic urgings for true neutrality for so long, that the President of the United States will have his own list of culprits, and ‘Russia’ will be at the top of the list. For all he and I know, Germany is complicit as well. They could have dreamed up the idea first and shared it with the Kremlin. Or with rogues Berlin recruited in promise of taking charge of Russia, as their puppets, after a coup. Either way, Moscow is in deep trouble, the offender to American eyes.”

“But now we come to
Challenger.
”

“What about
Challenger
?” At this point, Jeffrey wasn’t volunteering anything.

Meredov drew another mark, in the middle of the Laptev Sea, and put a date next to it, today’s. “Here is where you contacted me, at your president’s orders.”