by Nina Bruhns
Nikolai regarded her. “And you think we’re the mouse?”
“Aren’t we?”
He allowed himself the hint of a smile. “I sure as hell hope not.” However, she did seem to possess an innate understanding of the subtleties of their stalker’s actions. He would do well to pay attention to her instincts. This was her area of expertise, after all. His smile faded. “So, if your theory is correct, what is their true purpose?”
She wasn’t going to say it aloud, but the objective for the Chinese wasn’t so difficult to guess.
To stop the SD card from falling into the hands of their enemies—namely, Russia and the United States.
That must be the ultimate goal of this exercise for the 093. There was really no other possible reason for their behavior—as inscrutable as it was. And at least one other person knew it—the person working for them aboard Ostrov. Nikolai just wished he knew if that traitor was still actually on board at the moment, or off on Attu Island.
“Is there scuba gear on the boat?” Walker asked, breaking into their contemplative silence.
Nikolai frowned. “Yes, of course.” He glanced at Starpom Varnas, who had actually brought his own gear along.
“Scuba is standard equipment,” Varnas said, who had been listening with one ear to the conversation. “In case repairs are needed below the surface.”
“Perhaps that’s your answer,” Walker said.
Nikolai scrutinized his bland expression. “You’re saying you think someone is—what? Planning to jump ship using scuba gear, and . . . and then what? Get plucked up by the Chinese sub?”
Varnas snorted.
Walker’s head tilted, ignoring the starpom. “You have a scenario that fits the facts better?”
Nikolai sighed inwardly. Well, no. Not really. But that one seemed . . .
Чертов ад.
Okay. Just improbable enough to be correct.
An Arctic-weight wetsuit would protect a person against the near freezing temperature of the sea easily long enough to be fished up. But one would have to be equipped with more than a wetsuit to survive a swim to the ocean surface from a hundred meters down. Aside from the difficulty of getting off the hermetically sealed vessel, the outside pressure alone would crush a man to a pulp.
Nikolai turned back to the sonar monitor and considered it. “If you’re right,” he mused, “we’re safe as long as Ostrov remains below safe human dive limits.”
Julie peered at him nervously. “Safe from what?”
He thinned his lips. He’d noticed that the 093 was creeping closer. And Walker’s offhanded comment about torpedoes had definitely gotten his attention. “That’s the question, isn’t it? I just have a feeling our friends out there are planning something far less obvious than plucking an agent from the water.”
Walker studied him thoughtfully. “Such as?” he asked.
Nikolai wished he knew.
“One hundred sixty meters,” Danya announced, then came to sudden attention and touched his earphones. “Sir! The COB reports flooding in the engine room!”
Nikolai strode over and grabbed a headset. Over the static he could hear shouting and the distinctive sound of water spraying in the background.
“Engine room, conn. Status report!”
Seconds later came Yasha’s calm reply. “Nothing to worry about, Kapitan. Looks like a faulty weld in one of the pipes. We’re fitting it with a bandit patch.”
“That’s the only leak?” Nikolai asked.
“Looks like it,” the COB came back. “I’ll report immediately if the situation changes.”
Nikolai checked the fathometer. Just one hundred seventy-five meters. The devil. The boat was showing its age a lot sooner than he’d expected.
Nevertheless, when Stefan Mikhailovich shot him a questioning glance, he nodded. “Continue as ordered, Starpom Varnas.”
He noticed Julie gripping the arms of her chair. “Are we going to sink?” she asked, eyes wide as teacups.
Nikolai gave her a crooked smile. “It’ll take more than one faulty pipe weld to sink us,” he assured her.
Everyone was a bit jumpy today—including him—but the fact was, occasional leaks were a way of life on an old boat. Nothing to worry about. Much, anyway.
She looked around and when she saw nobody else panicking, her shoulders notched down a fraction. “Sorry. Still a little shaky.”
“You’re entitled,” he said. “How about if I let you know when you need to be scared? Otherwise, just assume you don’t have to worry. Okay?”
She eased out a breath. “Okay.”
“One-eight-zero meters,” Danya announced.
Nikolai gave her another reassuring smile, then turned back to the instruments. He could hear the ubiquitous creak and groan of Ostrov’s double metal hulls as the sub slipped farther down toward the bottom. By now they’d glided free of the canyon and into the open water above the trench. They were entering some very deep territory. The increased pressure felt heavy in Nikolai’s blood and his lungs, and his legs felt leaden.
“Sir! Another leak,” Danya called out moments later. “This one’s in the forward battery compartment.”
The compartment just below his stateroom. Nikolai glanced at the fathometer and ordered the diving officer, “Dive, steady on two-zero-zero!” as he brought his headset up over his ears again. “Forward mechanics, conn. Status!”
“Another pipe weld, Kapitan. Working to clamp it,” came the report.
“Are the batteries in danger of compromise?” he quickly asked.
One of the worst potential dangers on board a diesel-electric submarine was the possibility of battery acid somehow mixing with seawater. The result was a release of deadly chlorine gas. Fatal if breathed for longer than a few moments.
“Not as far as we can tell, sir. The waterproof wells should protect the batteries until we can get the weld repaired.”
Even so, he was beginning to get a bad feeling. And it didn’t help that the Chinese sub kept moving closer.
He gave orders for the batteries to be thoroughly examined, just to make sure they’d get no nasty surprises from that quarter later on. He’d dearly like to go down and check them himself. But he was needed here. And that would also mean leaving Julie, which he wouldn’t do.
However, his face must have shown his growing worry.
“Nikolai, go if you need to. I’ll be fine here,” she told him.
“No,” he said. “My men can take care of it.” And he knew they could. He just . . . had a niggling feeling.
“Shall we continue on our present course, Commander?” the navigator asked.
Nikolai pursed his lips. One leak was routine, two was bad luck. Should he risk three . . . or more?
They’d reached a depth of two hundred meters. The Arctic Sea where they were headed was sixty meters at its deepest. There was no reason to push the depth any farther.
But it was high time to address their other concern.
“Nyet,” he told the nav. “How about those geographical features I asked you to look out for? Anything good within striking distance?”
The navigator grinned in relief, along with every man on the watch. They knew what was coming. “Da, Komandir,” he said, reaching for his charts. “Would you like us to disappear, to turn the tables on the 093, or to make the whole Chinese navy tell ghost stories of Ostrov for generations to come?”
Nikolai laughed, then turned to the other crew members. “Well, men? What say you? Shall we become ghosts?”
But before anyone could respond, Danya Petrov launched out of his seat, eyes wide, hands pressing his headphones to his ears. “Sir!” he exclaimed. “They’re flooding their torpedo tubes!”
27
Julie saw Nikolai and the rest of the crew stop in their tracks as though suddenly frozen solid. Tension surged through the room like a bolt of lightning.
“What’s going on?” she asked in alarm, cursing for the hundredth time today that she’d never learned
the Russian language. She spun. “Clint?”
Nikolai barked an order and the room exploded into action. Overhead, the klaxon went off and the speakers blared something in Russian that made everyone jump. No one paid the slightest attention to her question. Even Clint had popped up, an astonished frown on his face.
“Clint!” she exclaimed, coming to her feet as well. “What on earth is happening?”
He shot her a distracted glance. “The 093 seems to be preparing to launch torpedoes.”
She stared at him in horror. “Are you serious? But why? What did we do?”
“Not a damn thing,” Nikolai interjected from where he stood at the main console, scowling. Everyone was poised over their instruments as though teetering on a dime, ready to act on a word from their captain.
“This is crazy. They have to know we’re unarmed!” she exclaimed hoarsely.
“They don’t appear to care.”
Abruptly, she sat back down. Goose bumps crawled over her arms like giant spiders.
Shit, shit, shit.
What were the Chinese doing? Were they planning to sink Ostrov? Would they really risk starting a world war over the UUV plans contained on the data card that was currently burning a hole in her coverall pocket? Could those plans possibly be so important to them?
Once again she wondered if there might be something on the storage card other than what she’d been told. . . .
“Look,” Clint said, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear, “I know you found the SD card. Have you told anyone? Could the Chinese have somehow found out that you have it now?”
She gaped at him, wide-eyed. “How did you know?”
The corner of his lip curved. “You just told me.”
She stood up abruptly, furious with herself for falling for the oldest trick in the book. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded in a low but intense voice. “What are you doing on this boat? You’d better tell me right now or I swear to God I’ll have Nikolai slap you back in—”
He held up his hands. “No need for dramatics. We’re on the same side. Honest!”
“Julie! Are you all right?” Nikolai called, having sliced them a glance when she’d jumped up.
“If you want answers,” Clint said impassively, “tell him to back off. And keep your voice down.”
“I don’t like being told what to do,” she retorted. But quietly.
“Yeah, I got that,” he said.
Nevertheless, she nodded her head and smiled Nikolai off. She did want answers. And Clint was right. The real saboteur could be listening to their conversation even now.
“Now, about that SD card. Does anyone else know?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He shot a glance at Nikolai. “No one?”
Again she shook her head. “I just found it this morning. I was going to tell him, but I”—she gave an involuntary shiver—“never got the chance.”
“You still have it? The attacker didn’t take it off you?”
Her hand strayed to her pocket. “No. I checked it when I changed clothes.”
“And you’re sure it’s the same SD card?”
She nodded. “I drew a small Chinese symbol onto the label after I found it. It hasn’t been switched.”
“Well,” he said, “the good news is the attacker must not know you have it, or it would be gone.”
Small favors.
“And the bad news?”
All at once a loud noise reverberated through the hull, sending a physical jolt through her bones. Her hands flew up to steady herself as she gasped.
“Christ,” Clint said. “They’re going active.”
Fear gripped her. “What does that mean?”
Nikolai shouted an order and no one moved a muscle. She could see sweat pop out on brows all around.
“Sonar. We just got targeted,” Clint told her, frown deepening.
“They’re shooting at us?” she squeaked.
Nikolai’s eyes narrowed, looking more calculating than afraid. “My guess is they’re trying to scare the pants off us,” he said from where he stood. “In retaliation for yesterday.”
“Well, it’s working,” she croaked.
Still, as Nikolai exchanged terse words with his men she felt somewhat relieved. She should have thought of that. Of course the 093 would try to get back at Ostrov for the embarrassing musical UUV maneuver Nikolai and Clint had pulled with their decoy sounds. Maybe that was all this was. Saving face. Not starting World War III.
“Still no torpedoes launched,” Clint said, watching the instruments like a hawk.
She met Nikolai’s gaze. “Should I be worried yet?” she asked shakily, recalling his promise.
“Not quite yet.” Calm as the center of a storm, he looked at her evenly. “So,” he asked, “how do they expect us to react to this blatant intimidation?”
After her initial surprise over being consulted again, she warmed inwardly at his trust in her judgment. He really did believe in her.
Her eyes went back to the sonar monitor, where she could see the Chinese sub getting closer and closer. She nibbled her lip. How should they react?
If this was simple retaliation, a show of fear by Ostrov’s captain would satisfy their honor. But things were seldom quite so simple with the Chinese. They were unparalleled strategists and masters of subtlety. If this was them lulling Ostrov into complacency, or into an unknown trap, it would behoove Nikolai to be thinking several moves ahead.
“They’ll expect us to act frightened. If not in reality, then in pretense, to allow them to save face. I suggest you do so. But let it be the first chess move of your own plan. Be the queen, not a pawn.”
Nikolai smiled. “Or perhaps a knight. I’ve always fancied learning to ride a horse.”
She tilted her head, momentarily distracted. “You’ve never ridden?”
He shook his head. “Not even a seahorse.”
She smiled. “My aunt has horses on her farm in Oklahoma.” She opened her mouth to tell him she’d take him riding when he came to visit. Except he wasn’t going to visit. So she closed it again.
The pain of knowing that stabbed through her. How she wished . . .
Clint cleared his throat. “Whatever you do, Skipper, I think you should be quick about it.”
Another active sonar ping hammered Ostrov’s hull, emphasizing his words. Once again all eyes went to Nikolai, who whipped back to his instruments, calling out orders. Then he grabbed a headset, strode over to Julie, and thrust it into her hands.
“What’s this for?” she asked in surprise.
“My secret weapon,” he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
“Which is?”
He lifted her hands with his and urged her to put on the headset. “You.”
Julie’s jaw dropped in shock. “What?”
Nikolai couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this sooner. “You speak Mandarin, right?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Good. Then you can speak with that Chinese captain and find out what the hell he’s up to.”
Her eyes widened. He had to be kidding. “You realize it won’t be that easy. First of all, I doubt he’ll talk to me.”
“Oh, he’ll talk to you, all right.”
“But is that wise?” Walker interjected.
Nikolai was getting a little tired of the man’s interference. Everywhere he turned, Clint Walker was sticking his nose in. One more and he’d get out the duct tape.
“If they know about the SD card, they have to know CIA sent someone to retrieve it. It won’t be too hard for them to guess it’s Julie,” Walker warned, his voice lowered.
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Nikolai said through his teeth, sliding on his own circuit earphones. Ship-to-ship communication underwater was tenuous at best, but at this close range it was just possible. “Mr. Petrov, get the captain of the 093 on the growler, and patch in Miss Severin,” he ordered his radioman, who glanced at him in surp
rise, then scrambled to obey.
“What am I supposed to say?” Julie asked nervously.
“Ask him what he’s planning to do,” Nikolai returned. “And when he refuses to say, tell him point-blank you found the stolen data card days ago and have already transmitted all the information on it to your employer, so anything they might have in mind in the way of a plan to retrieve—or destroy—it will be too late.”
She blinked owlishly. “I’m pretty sure they’ve been monitoring our communications, including satellite phone calls. They’ll know that’s a lie. Even if I weren’t a terrible liar. Which I am.” At that her eyes dipped away, looking guilty for a brief second.
His attention snagged. A suspicion niggled at him. Was she hiding something from him?
“Granted,” he replied, “but hopefully it will produce a cloud of confusion long enough for us to slip away.” Not to mention the fact that it was a civilian woman speaking to the vessel’s commanding officer—the very woman they were hunting—and not Ostrov’s captain. That should buy Nikolai time as the enemy tried to analyze the unorthodox and totally unexpected move.
“Yeah, okay,” Julie said doubtfully.
Unconsciously, her fingers touched the pocket of her coverall, again drawing his attention. She was hiding something! Something small.
Nikolai wasn’t the only one who saw the movement. Walker’s gaze darted speculatively to his. Nikolai kept his expression carefully neutral, pretending he hadn’t noticed.
What the hell? Had Julie actually found the SD card? Sometime between when he’d walked away from her last night and the attempt on her life this morning?
But just then his headset came to life, static echoing in his ears, and a tinny, faraway voice came on speaking Chinese. Julie jerked up in her seat and said something in reply, whereupon there was more static. Finally a man whose clipped, authoritative voice could only be that of the 093’s CO came on. Nikolai could clearly hear the restrained outrage in his tone, but could only guess at what he might be saying to Julie.
While they spoke, Nikolai ordered Ostrov about, so they were facing the enemy nose to nose. That should give the enemy commander another unexpected move to think about as he lied through his teeth to Julie.
