by Larry Bond
Hertz didn’t say anything for a moment. Fellowes fought to suppress his impatience. Let the lad think, he reminded himself. “I’ve got some software that might be able to isolate the sound. I can sample . . .”
“That’s great, Nick, please get on that, as fast as you can. Call me back in fifteen minutes, will you? Good lad. Cheers.”
Hertz was still talking when Fellowes hung up. Checking his email, he found the message with the file attached, and opened it. He forced himself to listen to the entire file. Rudel’s words were clear, although there was a desperate tone to his voice.
Fellowes didn’t understand everything Rudel said. They had a retired Royal Navy officer on retainer who could translate; he’d be listening to the file, along with several other people. He didn’t have to be a naval officer, though, to know what “using warshots” meant.
As the file finished, suddenly and in midsentence, he punched a number on his cell, simultaneously forwarding the sound file to a select list of people within Skynews. One of them was the editor-in-chief. The subject line for the email was “Skyrocket,” the internal code word for a hot story.
Fellowes waited eagerly, running his fingers through his hair, as the phone rang four times before being answered. A dispassionate voice announced, “Mr. Heath’s office.”
“Mary, it’s Ed Fellowes. I just sent the boss a skyrocket. Tell him the Russians have attacked Seawolf.”
~ * ~
Mikhail Rudnitskiy
Captain Gradev had lived on the bridge since they’d left port, eating, getting what little sleep he could, and haranguing the engineers. Between his ship’s worn-out engines and the cranky minisubmarine, he’d had plenty to deal with.
Alex Radimov, Gradev’s starpom, appeared, shaking his head. “The engines are at maximum, Captain. Unless we can scrape the barnacles off her hull, fourteen and a half knots is the best they can do. Still, this is a minor miracle and we should buy the chief engineer an entire case of spirits when we get back.”
“Very well, Alex. I’m convinced the engineers are giving us their best.”
“I toured the sub hangar as well. Everything is proceeding well. AS-34 will be ready to launch the instant we reach the site.”
“I’ll send Rear Admiral Vidchenko another message, reconfirming our readiness.”
Radinov looked excited, and Gradev shared it. AS-34 would launch in a few hours. By dinnertime, they would finally know for themselves what had happened to Severodvinsk.
~ * ~
USS Churchill
The first sign of trouble was when Patterson’s laptop died, or rather, her connection to the Internet died. She’d been proud of keeping up on her email, and monitoring Parker s progress with their publicity campaign. Their correspondence with the Russian Wives and Mothers website had proved useful and educational.
Now the site she’d been reading froze. She was still trying to solve the problem when the General Quarters klaxon rang.
Patterson’s heart leapt in her throat. General Quarters was only sounded for battle or a dire emergency, like a fire aboard the ship. As she hurried to CIC, she didn’t know which one to hope for.
Baker saw her come in CIC. In fact, he must have been watching for her, letting his XO supervise the ship’s preparations. Churchill’s CIC had chairs for the captain and an embarked admiral, and Baker invited her to sit in the admiral’s place. Three large screens faced them. The center one showed a map of the area overlaid with what she assumed were tactical symbols.
As soon as she sat, Baker quietly, almost too calmly, reported, “Seawolf reports that she’s being driven from the area by ASW helicopters. They’re dropping live depth charges.”
Patterson tried to match Baker’s calm demeanor, and said nothing for some time while her mind fiashbacked to her own depth-charging experience. Shivering, she forced herself to focus on the current situation. At once, a number of questions bubbled up. She answered several of her most obvious ones herself, then asked, “Was Seawolf damaged?”
“Not as far as we know.” He handed her a message slip. “But SUBGRU Two reports the conversation was cut off, and according to them Rudel says some of the charges were getting close.”
Baker gestured to the activity in CIC. “As soon as GQ is set, I’ll place the ship in Condition Two. Condition One is General Quarters, but you can’t do that for very long before the crew gets tired. In Condition Two, all our weapons and sensors are manned, but some of the crew is allowed to rest or do essential work. We’ll stay at Condition Two, extended General Quarters, until this ship and Seawolf are both out of the Russian exclusion zone.”
Patterson absorbed Baker’s explanation, and tried to imagine how it changed the situation. “I’m uncomfortable with how this will look to the Russians, Captain.”
“I don’t care how it looks, Doctor. The Russians have dropped weapons near an American submarine, a damaged American submarine. It was a very deliberate act, not an accident.”
“They didn’t attack her directly. They were trying to drive her from the area.
“With live ordnance! This is unheard of, and unacceptable. They know she’s damaged, and that she is responding to maritime emergency. I don’t know how many international accords they have just violated. Until I know which side of the line they’re staying on, I’m not taking any chances.”
He was right, of course. Patterson studied the message, trying to glean clues to the Russians’ behavior from the transcript of Rudel’s last phone call.
“Your orders, ma’am?”
Patterson shook her head. “No change. We find Seawolf and make sure she’s all right. Then we figure out how to make these sons of Russia talk to us.”
“Understood,” Baker replied. A phone buzzed near him, and he diverted his attention to ship’s business.
Patterson sat there and stewed; the whole situation was spiraling completely out of control. The Russians’ belligerent behavior and outright refusal to communicate irritated her to no end. They seemed hell-bent on a crusade to embarrass and humiliate the United States over this incident. What did her loving husband call it? Ah yes, “chest thumping.”
She also saw that this spiral could become a vicious circle unless she somehow penetrated the communications barrier. But how? You can’t make someone pick up the phone when you call them. Or can you?
Baker hung up the phone. “Sorry, Doctor Patterson, I had to confer with my XO. We’ll be setting Condition Two momentarily.”
Patterson didn’t respond; she seemed lost in thought. A slight grin on her face.
“Doctor Patterson?”
“Yes? Oh, excuse me, Captain. You were saying?”
“I said that we’ll be setting Condition Two momentarily.”
“Excellent, Captain. Thank you. Will you please have Ms. Parker and Mr. Adams meet me in the wardroom? We have another press announcement to make.”
“Certainly. May I ask what you have in mind?” inquired Baker.
“There is an old proverb that says if you can’t bring Muhammad to the mountain, then you bring the mountain to Muhammad. Well, I intend to try that with the Russians.”
Baker looked on as she left CIC, more confused by her answer than before.
~ * ~
Olga Sadilenko’s apartment, Severomorsk, Russia
Olga heard the commotion in the other room before Irina burst in. “They dropped depth bombs on the American submarine!”
The older woman was puzzled. “But isn’t it near Severodvinsk? The Americans said they were going to guide our ships to the right spot.”
“Not anymore. It’s all over the Internet that Seawolf was attacked by our Navy’s helicopters. She may have been damaged.”
Others had crowded into Olga’s bedroom now to hear the conversation. They all nodded as Irina read several articles from the news sites. She saw several women pull out tissues. With the strain they were all under, tears came quickly.
“So they dropped depth bombs on the American subma
rine, with our men trapped underneath.” Olga’s expression mixed anger with disbelief.
“But there’s more news,” Irina announced. I just got an email from Joyce Parker aboard Churchill. It’s a press release. They are going into the exclusion zone, and she says Rear Admiral Vidchenko has agreed to meet with them aboard Petr Velikiy. The Americans have vital information they wish to give our Navy, and they will also deliver that Norwegian to our ships.”
One of the women behind Irina snorted. “Right. Use a warship to deliver one person. If he’s even on board at all.”
“He is on board,” another young woman insisted. “The Norwegian company says he is aboard an American destroyer, and they sent him ahead to prepare for their rescue ship.”
Olga absorbed it all as quickly as Irina could tell her. “And our Navy has said nothing, of course,” she predicted.
Everyone nodded knowingly.
Irina answered, “Well, if the Navy will talk to the Americans, then perhaps we should talk to the Americans as well. Do they have that list of our men?”
“Yes, I sent it to them earlier today.”
“And our list of questions for Commander Rudel?”
“Assembled and ready for your final review.”
“Whatever they say, post their response to our questions on the website as soon as you get them.”
~ * ~
Northern Fleet Headquarters
The phone call was from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They weren’t in his chain of command, but reminding them of that hadn’t stopped their incessant questioning.
Vice Admiral Kokurin listened politely, but finally said, “Deputy Minister, I can only accept instructions from the Main Naval Staff. They’re in Moscow, the same as you . . .”
He paused to listen, but his body language made it clear he didn’t like what he was hearing. “I’m sure the ministry’s expertise will benefit us in this situation, but you have to speak to Admiral Pucharin. His office can answer all your questions, as well.”
After another pause, he said politely, “I’m not authorized to discuss the rescue operation over an open line.”
Kokurin listened for a moment, then hung up. His deputy, Vice Admiral Baybarin, had sat patiently, if curiously, while his superior deflected the Foreign Ministry’s questions and suggestions.
“Boris, this is going to get messier. The deputy minister said the Americans have formally protested the ‘attack’ on their submarine, and at the same time they’re meeting with Vidchenko aboard Petr Velikiy.” He held up his hands, pleading. “Does this make sense to you?”
Baybarin laughed. “No. There was no attack. Did the Foreign Ministry agree to the meeting?”
Kokurin shook his head. “No, nobody will admit to it.”
“They do have Lindstrom,” his deputy pointed out.
“He could be transferred by helicopter while they stayed outside the exclusion zone. Instead, Churchill will rendezvous with our ships at the collision site, and there will be a meeting—aboard one of our ships!”
“What does Vidchenko say?”
Kokurin made a sour face. “I haven’t asked him. He has his orders. He will follow them.”
Baybarin waited for Kokurin to say something more, but when he didn’t, he asked, “What will you tell him to do about the American destroyer and the meeting?”
The fleet commander thought for a moment, pacing, then asked, “So you think I should instruct him?”
“We have information he doesn’t—about the American’s reaction to the depth bombs.”
“A distraction. I won’t let a rescue operation be influenced by diplomatic maneuvers.”
Babyarin offered, “They say they have vital information for us.”
“Whatever they have, AS-34 is there now, and their data is moot. With any luck, we will know all there is to know about Severodvinsk after his first sortie.”
“So you don’t think Vidchenko should meet with the Americans?”
Kokurin shrugged. “Only if it suits his purpose, and that’s his decision to make. I’ve given him the only order he’ll get from me: Find and rescue the crew of Severodvinsk.”
~ * ~
The White House, Washington, DC
The Oval Office was almost bursting, with the Secretaries of State and Defense, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Chief of Naval Operations, the Director of National Intelligence, Vice President Clemson, and Dr. Wright, the National Security Adviser. Most of their staffs had to wait outside.
Patterson would have been pleased with the attention Seawolf was getting now. The entire National Security Council was present. By rights, they should have met in the secure conference room. Huber had decided to have it in the White House to avoid making it an official NSC meeting, and perhaps because the Oval Office symbolized the authority of the president. That authority had been challenged, at least indirectly.
“Dr. Wright, please tell everyone in this room about your conversation with Dr. Patterson.” Huber’s tone wasn’t hostile, but it was formal, and very different from the easygoing air he usually affected.
Trying not to feel defensive, the national security adviser simply stated, “I’ve just been on the secure phone with Joanna Patterson. She issued the press release you’ve all seen to force the Russians’ hand.”
“Without any communications from them, or us.” That was from the Secretary of State. His tone was hostile.
“That’s the point, Mr. Secretary. They weren’t communicating at all. Has your department received any response to her messages?”
“None,” the secretary admitted. “But what if the Russians called her a liar, which would mean calling us all liars?”
Wright countered, “They’ve already accused us of far worse.”
The president asked, “But what is her goal? Why is she doing this? The Russians have made it pretty clear they don’t want us up there.”
“The sooner they start working with us, instead of depth-charging Seawolf, the sooner they’ll get their people back. Our obligation isn’t to the government of the Russian Federation, it’s to the men in that submarine.”
“Our first obligation is to Seawolf’,” injected Admiral Forrester, the senior officer in the Navy. It made sense that he’d think of his boat and the men aboard her.
“Then we have two goals. And they’re not mutually exclusive.” Wright felt uncomfortable defending Patterson, but he was really defending their role in Severodvinsk’s rescue.
State was not convinced. “Mr. President, I’m not sure that Dr. Patterson will be able to make this work. She has no foreign policy experience, and no background in crisis management. The quickest end to this mess is for you to order Seawolf and Churchill out of the area. No more friction with the Russians. We’ll just be abiding by their wishes. Any information we want to send to the Russians can be delivered to their embassy.”
“That won’t work anymore, Mr. Secretary. We’re involved, and if this turns out badly, people will ask why we didn’t stay and help. Even if the crew is rescued, the Russians will have been rewarded for bullying one of our subs.”
“She’s cutting us out of the loop,” Huber complained. Everyone in the room nodded in agreement, which to Wright only reinforced the correctness of her actions.
Wright threw it in their laps. “What do you want to happen? What do you want her to do?”
“She has to keep us informed, give us a chance to comment on what she proposes to tell or say to the Russians.” That was the secretary of state again, but defense and the DNI both nodded as well. “We’re running our own operations here, and working at cross-purposes could damage more than just our reputation.”
“This is a fast-moving situation, and waiting for Washington’s ‘guidance’ could have a high cost.” Wright looked to Huber, who slowly nodded his agreement.
The Chief of Naval Operations seemed more cooperative. “I’m willing to ‘conform to her movements,’ so to speak, but Seawolf is damaged, and th
e Russians aren’t respecting her, or international law. Depth charging an undamaged boat would be an incident. Doing it to Seawolf verges on the criminal.”
Huber stood up and paced. Wright knew the president liked to walk while he thought, or maybe he was just tired of sitting. Everyone waited.
“If Dr. Patterson is successful in opening talks with the Russians, the risk to Seawolf disappears. And the chance of the crew getting off that stricken Russian sub alive goes up.” He looked at the secretary of state. “That’s got to help our international standing.”
