B018R79OOK EBOK

by Unknown

  The rest of the officers knew it was fruitless to argue any longer. To say no would mean a quick removal from their post, so all nodded their readiness.

  “Good!” said Pusko. We will meet again in three days for another assessment. Let me know immediately if there are any problems,” he said, dismissing the men.

  They all filed out of the room without much fanfare. Few spoke. Most had lingering doubts that the plan would work at all.

  Chapter 6

  Opening Moves

  Krakow, Poland

  The change had been miraculous. Almost from that first night, Freda had been back to her old self. The smile and laughter were back and the energy had returned with a vengeance. Petyr had been amazed the next morning when he woke to see her sitting up in the tent watching a young fawn that was looking back in at her through the screened flap. She had actually been humming a song to calm the animal. Propping himself up on his elbow, he watched in wonder as the fawn just stared at her, occasionally wiggling its ears.

  The look on Freda’s face had been almost heartwarming. Her smile was bright and she was clearly exhilarated by the experience, but even more so when the mother deer walked up and joined her offspring for a moment before urging it off toward the water. The rest of the time at the lake was a whirlwind of hiking, visits to some neighbors and just sitting together on the old pier.

  Mr. Polski had been amazed at the transformation. His worries had vanished when she had greeted him with a big hug. She had even hugged Rudy when she got home. Later on, Mr. Polski had thanked Petyr, and urged the two of them to continue to go out and do things together.

  It was now three weeks later and they had been to a morning swimming meet for their school. Both had hopped on a bus to get them back across the city so they could spend the afternoon closer to home. They hadn’t noticed that the bus was going toward the center of the city instead of toward the outskirts. Suddenly the bus screeched to a halt and the driver got out of his seat and turned to the passengers. “Everyone out! This bus is a part of a strike for our workers,” he called out loudly.

  Looking up, Petyr noticed that the bus was one of several on the street blocking traffic. Once outside they could hear shouts around one of the corners and went that way to see what was happening.

  There was a crowd of several hundred people gathered in a small square. Many carried signs saying “MPK is unfair.” A number of people were beginning to chant, “Treat us with respect!” Petyr could tell that many in the crowd were angry. This was far more than he or Freda needed to be a part of. “Let’s get away from here,” he told her.

  They returned to where the busses were blocking the street and began making their way around the small square and away from the noise. That was when Petyr noticed their upstairs neighbor. He was standing on the lip of a wall looking into the square. On several occasions he looked as if he were giving orders to a group of men, who then rushed into the crowd. Watching from a distance, he saw that the crowd seemed to get more agitated right after he sent the men in. Then came the shock of his life. Petyr saw his own father join the man and talk for a moment, before he too went into the crowd.

  Freda noticed the pained expression that suddenly appeared on his face. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  He turned to look at her. “Let’s just go. I don’t want to be here,” he said sadly. The two turned and headed away from the angry crowd. After a few blocks they heard gunfire erupt from the direction of the square. Soon the wail of police sirens was heard. They rushed past the two as they walked and kept going toward the square.

  “Petyr, something’s the matter. We are too close for you not to let me know what’s troubling you,” Freda said, concerned.

  When he turned toward her, she could see his eyes were moist. She reached up and placed her hand against his cheek. “I saw my father in there. He was with our neighbor upstairs. I have seen them going out before in the evening,” he said sadly. “You’ve seen the news. All those protests and people saying we are discriminating against the Russians. I overheard father talking about this on the phone. The neighbor looked like he was directing those people over there, and Father was taking orders from him,” Peter said. The realization had cut the young man to the core. “How could he do this? We are Poles. It’s as if he wants the Russians to come in and take over,” he said. Now the tears were rolling down his cheeks.

  Freda pulled him into a hug. “I don’t know, Petyr. We’ve talked enough about this that I know how you feel, but no matter, we can’t talk about this to anyone. If he is helping them, we can’t let them know that we know or suspect. Let’s just get home and we’ll decide what to do later,” she said reassuringly.

  Petyr nodded and the two continued their walk home. It would take several hours because the transportation had been shut down, but by that time, Petyr had calmed down and they decided to talk to Freda’s father about it. He would know what to do.

  Norfolk, Virginia

  “Fifteen hundred feet keel depth, Captain,” said the Officer of the Deck.

  “Very well, OOD, dive the boat. Take her down to one hundred fifty feet,” the Captain ordered.

  “Aye, sir. Open the vents. Ten degree down on the dive planes. Level the ship at one hundred fifty feet,” ordered the OOD. Outside the ship great gusts of air seemed to spring up along the submarine’s hull as the vents to the ship’s main ballast tanks were opened and the air began rushing out of them. Slowly, the Virginia class submarine South Dakota sank deeper into the sea until she disappeared from sight. Within a few minutes the ship was running silently away from Norfolk.

  Captain Jason Broadmore sat back in his seat and watched his people do their jobs. The South Dakota was one of the newer ships of the class and had all the bells and whistles. He was proud of his ship and now it appeared he would take her into harm’s way. His orders had been explicit. Get your ship underway and be on the lookout for Russian submarines. The next part of his instructions had been the surprise. They were to prepare the ship for unrestricted warfare against the Russians. True, everyone was talking about it, but now he had written orders to get ready for it. It was an order he never thought he would receive. Getting the ship underway at night had added to the surprise.

  “Conn, sonar, I have a poss sub bearing 085,” came the report from the sonar room.

  Holy shit! I never expected it to be this fast. He pressed the button on the bitch box, “You sure, sonar? It’s awfully close to shore, isn’t it?” the Captain asked.

  The answer was quick and to the point. “That’s affirmative, Captain. We’re picking up nuclear plant noises. The computer says it is Oscar Number four. That would be K-119, the Voronezh. We picked up something just as we began the dive. It sounded like hull popping noises, like she was coming up for a look-see. There’s no doubt now, Captain. She’s out there. Give us a few and we should have a range,” said the Sonar Chief.

  The Captain turned to his OOD. “Make the ship super quiet. Let’s see if we can sneak around him and see what he’s doing,” he said as he rushed toward the sonar room.

  Back at the Norfolk Naval Base, a crew of men backed a truck up to the head of the pier that the South Dakota had just left. Lowering a ramp off the truck to the water’s edge, the men slid a long black tube-like structure into the water. Made of a rubberized material, it floated just on the surface. Then the men hooked a receptacle on the end still attached to the truck and turned on a machine. Slowly, the thing in the water began to grow. It spread itself along the water and began to ride just on top of it. Three men in a motor boat came around the pier and hooked a line on the end of the object. As it filled with air, a taller shape began to inch upward on the forward part of the object.

  Within an hour the lines secured it to the pier and a machine was stationed on the pier to make sure it remained at a specific pressure. As the men left, they glanced back at their work. USS South Dakota was resting at her moorings just as she had before. Although everyone there knew it was fak
e, from an orbiting satellite, no one would know the difference.

  Aboard the K-119

  Captain Leonid Kronovsky stared through his periscope toward the specks of light along the shore. “So this is America,” he muttered. He had taken the ship to within twelve miles of the shore. His sonar had reported noises from almost due west, but there were no signs of a ship leaving. Now the sonar was saying there were just background noises. Good. He would wait for his orders, then show the Americans what the Russian Navy was capable of.

  “Come about. Make your course zero nine zero. Let us get to our holding area and wait for our orders,” he told his crew. Everyone aboard was excited. Few had been this close to the United States.

  Off Mayport, Florida

  Finally, their mission was complete. Captain Stephan Gromyko ordered his ship about and away from the coast. Home was still a long way off, but they had been able to complete their part of this grand mission two weeks before everything was to begin. Luckily, the timers in the mines they had laid would not activate the system until needed. Between Norfolk, Virginia, Kings Bay, Georgia, and Mayport, Florida, they had been able to crank out forty of the things, even though they normally could only carry twenty four. That had made the crew happy. When they got underway every conceivable space had been taken up by the mines. The crew had to sleep in whatever nook or cranny they could find. In the Chita, a diesel electric submarine that the west had nicknamed a Kilo Class, it meant no room at all. But now the decks and passageways were cleared and the bunks were open again. Once outside the twenty mile limit, Gromyko ordered the beer ration to be distributed, and the crew’s happy attitude had returned.

  The snorkel was raised and the sub’s diesels were started. The fresh air was pulled through the small submarine, sweeping out the smells of sweat and body odor that had seemingly permeated the ship. Once the batteries were fully charged, they would go deep and slowly make their way home. Hopefully, they would make it in time to rearm with torpedoes and play an even greater role in the coming conflict. Chita may be old, but he was a good submarine. Gromyko grabbed a bottle for himself. It was just a small reward for a job well done.

  CNN

  “Good evening, everyone, I am Candice Morton and here are the top headlines. CNN has learned that California Governor Mark Yost will be indicted for corruption and accepting illicit payments for aiding insurance companies in avoiding paying for earthquake damages. Revised California insurance statutes were passed under his insistence just two years ago. California Attorney General Larry Summers said the indictment stems from influence the Governor exerted to initiate the new laws and the payments he received for that influence over a period of three years. CNN has learned that the governor received over seven million over that period from several insurance companies providing earthquake insurance.

  “We have irrefutable evidence that Governor Yost used his considerable influence to change the laws so that insurance companies would have significantly reduced liability for payments to their clients. The result was far smaller payouts than earthquake insurance in other states. The Governor then received remuneration over a period of three years for this influence,” said Summers on camera.

  “Governor Yost had ties with the insurance industry before becoming governor. Those ties were supposed to be ended upon assuming office, but he has remained secretly on several payrolls. All of this was sparked by the class action suit against the insurance industry and the Governor’s office by Mayor Patricia Hammond of San Pedro, California, when she found that nearly everyone in her city had been turned down for assistance after a massive earthquake shattered her city.”

  The image changed to a background shot of tear gas being deployed toward a large crowd of people. “In other news, riots broke out and shots were fired in Krakow, Poland, today as workers for the city’s transit system went on strike to protest what the workers called persecution of older ethnic Russians. Mike Harrell has a report from Krakow.”

  Mike Harrell appeared on the screen with a crowd of people protesting in the background. “Violence erupted during a protest in the middle of Krakow, Poland, today as local workers from the MPK, the city’s transit operators, demonstrated for what they called fairness for the ethnic Russian workers they say are being mistreated.”

  A young man appeared on the screen, “They force the older ones out with nothing. They lose everything they have worked hard for. Ivan Ileneovich even took his own life because of what they did,” he complained.

  The image switched back to Harrell. “Ivan Ileneovich, an ethnic Russian who had moved to Poland during the Soviet era, recently committed suicide when his supervisors at MPK fired him for no apparent reason. His death sparked an outcry from workers across the country denouncing what they call the persecution of ethnic Russians in Polish industries. The protest today started peacefully enough, but in the middle of the protest someone opened fire. In all, four shots were fired somewhere in the crowd, killing two people and injuring two others. The injured were rushed to the hospital where doctors say they are in stable condition. Protesters blamed local police and began moving through the area breaking windows and setting fire to vehicles. Police used tear gas to break up the crowd, but protesters continue to express their anger at the situation. This is Mike Harrell, in Krakow.”

  “In further news, more protests have occurred throughout Russia as more people demonstrate against the harsh treatment protesters have been receiving in recent weeks. James Matthews reports.”

  “Protesters in St. Petersburg were met by heavily armed troops today when they protested brutal uprisings against students at the local university. This is the seventh such incident involving protesting students and the police. Local activists were very vocal of their criticism of the government.”

  The image shifted to a protester with a bleeding cut over one eye. “We have the right to tell the government we do not like what they do. The students are being beaten for no reason but expressing ourselves. This must stop,” the student said.

  Matthews continued. “Today’s action happened when students on campus gathered near their student union to smoke and talk amongst themselves. There was evidently no formal protest.”

  Another student was seen with a black eye. “We weren’t doing anything,” the girl cried out. “We are there every day after lunch just to talk between classes. We did nothing,” she emphasized.

  “The crackdown on protesters continues. Russian government officials insist that this is an internal affair to counter terrorist activities and ideas coming from other European nations. This is James Matthews, for CNN in St. Petersburg.”

  “We will be back with more, right after this.”

  Krakow

  Mr. Polski sat back and rubbed his chin. The information about Petyr’s father and his upstairs neighbor was almost unbelievable. But he also knew Petyr and Freda wouldn’t make something like this up. In either case, something needed to be looked into and he knew he was not the man to do the job. He looked over at the two young people sitting together across from him on the couch. “You are sure it was your father, Petyr?” he asked.

  The boy seemed almost in tears again as he nodded his head. “Yes, sir. I wish it weren’t so.”

  Mr. Polski could see how much this was tearing the young man apart. If there were a doubt, he would have known it. He sat forward in his seat. “”Petyr, do not blame yourself. There may be things going on that we do not understand,” he reassured the young man. “But I believe we need to look into this. I will talk to someone I know. If it is nothing, then all will be well. If not, well, then it is something we need to stop,” he said gravely. “Until then, the two of you need to promise me that you will tell no one about what you have seen. Not your schoolmates, not your friends, not even other members of the family. You need to act as if nothing has happened. This is important. If something is wrong, we do not need to warn them that others know. We also do not need to bring harm to ourselves. If this is something to do with the Rus
sians, we could all find ourselves in very real danger. So we act as if nothing happened. The person I talk to will be able to sort this out and then do something about it without anyone getting harmed. Do you think you can do this?” he asked.

  Petyr spoke up for the both of them. “We can try.”

  Mr. Polski smiled. “Good. Now I suggest you two go down and sit on the bench like you usually do. Just leave things to me. I’ll let you know if we find out anything,” he said.

  Petyr gave a sigh and the two stood and left the apartment. Polski’s face hardened to a frown. First of all, he was angry that something like this was being done in his country, but most of all, he was angry that it should happen to a young man he had become very fond of. Petyr had become like a son to the man and he was proud that Petyr had been able to shoulder such a burden. To be faced with the thought that his own father was a traitor to his country was clearly eating away at the boy.

  Getting up from his seat, he moved to a small office he had arranged in the apartment. Scrolling through an old Rolodex, he found the name he was looking for and picked up the phone. After a few rings a familiar voice answered the phone. “Erich, it is Hector. I think I need your help.”

  Brussels, Belgium

  It was the fourth meeting between the NATO military commanders since Hammond had begun the job. Since that time, he and they had worked out a much more detailed plan on how to deal with the Russians should they invade one of the NATO nations. They were all sitting around a heavy oblong table in a large old style meeting room with oak paneling and ornate mirrors on the walls. General Eves LeMonde, Commander of the French forces had been a headache from the very beginning. According to him, the whole thing was doomed to failure unless the French were in charge. He also did not buy into the idea that the Russians would invade.