Cold Choices jm-2

by Larry Bond

  Jerry had been surprised and more than a little embarrassed by Patterson’s sudden affection, but he was glad to see her. She was not only an old friend, but represented the help they desperately needed, both for their own sake, as well as Petrov’s crew.

  He was glad to leave the electronics equipment space. Chandler’s men needed to get back to work. Back in the wardroom, the group was supposed to split up. Lindstrom did leave with Wolfe, headed for the torpedo room, but Bover asked to speak with both Patterson and Captain Rudel immediately. Jerry, Chandler, Shimko, and the others all listened.

  “Captain Rudel, Dr. Patterson, this sub has to head for the nearest port immediately. I do not understand how you’re still afloat, but Seawolf is not seaworthy. She should head south immediately, on the surface.” Bover was intense, agitated. Jerry thought he was frightened as well.

  Chandler started to speak, and looked like he was going to agree with Bover, but Rudel answered first. “Seawolf is tougher than she looks, Mr. Bover. We’ve submerged, weathered a storm, and we’re not done with what we have to do here.” There was firmness in the last phrase, more than Jerry had heard from the captain since the collision.

  “Captain, it may be your boat, but I repair ships and subs for a living. Your pressure hull has sustained significant damage. I don’t know of any boat that has taken damage like this that wasn’t immediately put into a dry-dock. Seawolf needs emergency repairs at the nearest port.”

  The tension in the wardroom grew as Rudel and Bover argued over Seawolf’s condition. Patterson looked at both men. Bover was shaking and upset, resolute in his professional assessment. Rudel seemed calm, confident, and just as determined. She was about to say something to defuse the situation, when out of the blue Shimko quipped, “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  Jerry and the other officers struggled to not burst out laughing. A couple did cough to release the built-up pressure. Rudel and Patterson were dumbfounded, caught completely off guard by Shimko’s off-the-wall remark. Rudel shook his head and gave his XO an exasperated look. Patterson laughed.

  “XO, that’s not helping,” Rudel scolded.

  “Sorry, sir,” mumbled Shimko apologetically. The twinkle in his eye said he really wasn’t.

  “Captain! This is no laughing matter! I implore you to get this boat to a safe port.” Bover’s voice was becoming shrill.

  “No, Mr. Bover,” Rudel answered sternly. “Seawolf has capabilities the Russians will need before this is over. The only reason Petrov and his men are alive is because of us.”

  “And the only reason they’re on the bottom is because of you.” Bover’s retort might have been meant to undermine Rudel, maybe deflate him, but the immediate result was to make Jerry want to throttle the man. Judging by the looks of some of the other officers present, he’d have lots of help.

  Patterson intervened quickly and said, “That’s enough, Mr. Bover. You’ve got work to do with Lieutenant Chandler. I suggest you get to it.” She checked her watch. “And we have to leave in twenty minutes.”

  Rudel waited until Bover and Chandler left, then asked, “Dr. Patterson, is that why you’re here, to order me home?” Patterson quickly shook her head, denying the accusation, but she also glanced at Jerry. He did his best to think positive thoughts.

  After a moment, she answered, “If you were a different captain, perhaps, but remember President Huber’s message. He read your service record, and spoke with Rear Admiral Sloan before deciding to back your actions.”

  “And I didn’t even vote for the guy,” said Rudel, visibly relieved.

  “Lowell sends his best.”

  Rudel smiled. “Thanks. I need all the friends I can get, right now. And he’s in Congress?”

  Twenty minutes later, Churchill’s helicopter reappeared and quickly winched up Seawolf’s three visitors. Last off was Commander Rudel, and Jerry heard the 1MC signal the departure of the ship’s commanding officer. “SEAWOLF, DEPARTING.” It was commonplace enough in port, but more than rare at sea.

  Shimko would be in command while Rudel was off the boat. That was the XO’s job, and he was more than capable of doing it. But Jerry could sense that Seawolf knew that something was missing. QM3 Gosnell, standing watch at the navigation plot, said it clearly, “It doesn’t feel right for the Skipper to be gone.”

  Jerry thought that was a good thing.

  Petr Velikiy

  Rear Admiral Vidchenko waited in the flag mess with Rear Admiral Kurganov and Captain Chicherin. There had been some debate as to who should meet the Americans. Kurganov had offered to meet with the visitors. Technically, Chicherin didn’t need to be there either.

  This was their idea, Kurganov had argued. They had bullied their way aboard. They were obviously here to gather information. He could meet them briefly, listen to what they had to say, and then get them off the ship before they’d warmed their chairs.

  But Vidchenko could not pass up the chance to see them for himself. They’d sent over a list of names this morning. It included Rudel, Seawolf’s captain, and Vidchenko wanted to be there. What was Rudel’s purpose? To apologize? Did he think that would help? Would he try to blame Petrov? The man couldn’t be that stupid.

  Vidchenko had brought the photos from the second dive to look at while they waited for the visitors to arrive. The new batch was no better than the first. Vidchenko had expected as much, and his personal observations, along with the AS-34’s crew, had been far more useful to the demolitions experts. While the batteries in AS-34 charged, the technicians were rigging the explosive charges. They would make the dive, plant the charges, and clear the area. With careful planning and a little luck, Petrov’s crew would be eating lunch aboard Petya.

  So Vidchenko regarded this visit as a useless, but potentially informative, distraction. The Americans couldn’t know the progress of their efforts, and Vidchenko was more than willing to lead them along. He’d have the meeting, and then get back to work.

  * * *

  They were almost on time, the Seahawk helicopter landing only three minutes late. A video image of the flight deck let Vidchenko and the others watch the five visitors arrive. Two naval officers, two government officials, and the Norwegian. He wondered which was Rudel, and realized that was his main reason for allowing them aboard. He wanted to meet an American submariner, on ground of his choosing. Seawolf was one of their most capable submarines. Rudel should be one of their best.

  It took them a few minutes to reach the flag mess after disappearing off the video screen. The woman came in first, followed by two commanders. Deciphering their nametags, the first one was Rudel. He was the right age for a submarine commander, but nothing remarkable. Vidchenko was a little disappointed, although he hadn’t known what he expected.

  Petr Velikiy had been built as a flagship, and had separate places for the admiral and his staff to work and eat. The flag mess was appropriately furnished, since admirals’ behinds needed more padding than the lower ranks. Paintings of Peter the Great as tzar and at the Battle of Poltava were matched on opposite bulkheads by photo portraits of the Russian Federation President, the Commander in Chief of the Russian Federation Navy, and Vice Admiral Kokurin, Commander of the Northern Fleet. To enhance the effect, Chicherin had moved in flags and a plaque that normally graced the bridge.

  Vidchenko spoke only a little English, Kurganov was fluent, and Chicherin not at all. Introductions were conducted by the U.S. State Department official, Mr. Manning, and monitored by a senior-lieutenant from the weapons battle department who’d studied in Chicago.

  “Dr. Patterson, on behalf of President Huber, wishes to convey her personal gratitude for allowing this meeting to take place. She hopes it will be constructive, and that the rescue of the crew of the Russian Federation submarine Severodvinsk can be quickly brought to a successful conclusion.” Manning’s Russian was flawless, and his greeting appropriately dressed with diplomatic overtones.

  Vidchenko was impressed, and a little concerned. The Americans were rea
lly pushing this. But why? How guilty was this Rudel?

  “Tell the lady we are here to listen to what she has to say.”

  Manning’s translation was more polite, but it did relay the gist of Vidchenko’s remark. The senior-lieutenant smiled at how Manning phrased the message, but nodded his agreement to his superiors.

  Rudel began to speak, looking directly at the Russian admirals. Manning indicated that the senior-lieutenant was to interpret the American captain’s comments. “He speaks about the collision. He is sorry for the dead and injured aboard Severodvinsk. He wishes to do everything he can to help.”

  Kurganov muttered, “So he’s apologizing. Fine. He’s done enough,” but Vidchenko was genuinely curious. “How does he think he can help?”

  In response to the interpreter’s question, Rudel placed a colored image of a torpedo-shaped device on the table. “He says they have two of these unmanned robotic vehicles on board his submarine. They used one like it to send emergency supplies over to Severodvinsk.”

  Rudel spoke again, and the interpreter translated, “The vehicle is equipped with high-precision sonar and photographic systems, which they have used to survey Severodvinsk and the surrounding area. He has a copy of the material for you.”

  Vidchenko saw a fat envelope in Rudel’s hand, extended toward him. He looked at Kurganov. His face was hard, made of the same steel as the ship.

  “Tell them thank you, but that information has been overtaken by events. I personally surveyed Severodvinsk early this morning, and we are now preparing to free Petrov and his crew.”

  Manning looked surprised and provided the American party with Vidchenko’s reason for declining the package. The visitors stirred at this news. The Americans spoke with each other in excited tones. The Norwegian, Lindstrom, turned and asked a question, a one-word question, which the interpreter relayed. “Explosives?”

  Vidchenko nodded. “Yes. We will clear some obstructions that prevent Severodvinsk from sitting level on the sea floor. When those are gone, the crew will use the escape capsule.”

  Suddenly, the door to the flag mess burst open and Chicherin’s executive officer hurried in. Vidchenko felt a flash of irritation, then curiosity. They’d posted a guard outside to prevent interruptions, but from the look of concern on the starpom’s face, the matter was serious.

  Chicherin started to reach for the message, but the starpom took it straight to Vidchenko. As he pressed the paper into the admiral’s hand, he turned his face away from the visitors, and bent down to speak softly to Vidchenko.

  “Sir, this is from the Main Intelligence Directorate. It was just decoded.”

  Patterson and the others waited while Vidchenko read the message. His face darkened, and he handed the message to the other admiral, Kurganov, as he stood. He looked hard at Commander Silas and spoke in rapid-fire Russian. His voice had an edge to it. Silas and Manning both paled and Manning began to protest.

  Patterson began to ask what had just happened, and the interpreter said, “Admiral Vidchenko says you must all leave right away. We have identified one of your party as a CIA agent.”

  He turned and spoke in Russian to Vidchenko, who was stepping away from the table. Vidchenko answered, then started to leave the room. “Mr. Lindstrom is welcome to stay, but the rest must leave, now.”

  Manning called to Vidchenko in Russian, he spoke rapidly and intently. Vidchenko, still angry but surprised, turned to listen but obviously was unmoved. Patterson watched the exchange without understanding, but finally Manning shrugged. He leaned close to Patterson, and said softly, “There’s nothing more we can do here. I’ve said everything that could be said. We should leave. I’ll explain on the way back.”

  Confused and reluctant, Patterson followed the others back to the helicopter.

  23. REVELATION

  USS Churchill

  The twenty-five-minute flight back to Churchill gave Dwight Manning time to explain what had happened aboard the Russian flagship. The truth had not set Patterson free, or removed the incredible sense of failure that weighed her down.

  All the work and chances shed taken to open communications with the Russians, for the benefit of Russian sailors, had been undone by more Cold War mistrust.

  Manning reprised his entire conversation with Vidchenko for her, but at the end, she had to admit there was nothing else she could have added or changed to what was said.

  * * *

  As they landed aboard Churchill, Patterson rejected the first three things she thought of saying, and finally told Silas, “Please report to me in my stateroom in five minutes.”

  She had time to dump her coat and laptop before she heard a quiet knock. Commander John Silas stood at the open door silently, his expression impassive.

  Seeing him again fanned her anger, and she badly wanted to shout at him. Controlling her first impulse, she stuck to the script. “I assume you understood the Russians’ objections to you aboard their ship. Mr. Manning says you speak Russian fluently.” Patterson’s tone was cold, almost harsh.

  “Yes, Doctor, I did.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but instead he stopped himself, waiting.

  Seeing his self-control strengthened hers, and she asked, “Did you wonder why I didn’t take Dr. Russo with us? He’s a submarine rescue expert and a former submariner. He has some Russian-language skills. He would have been perfect for this meeting, except for one small problem. He works at the CIA!”

  She paused for a moment. Patterson had felt her voice rising. “I knew the Russians would be security-conscious to the point of paranoia. I deliberately left him behind because I wanted them to trust us. I haven’t heard you deny their accusations.”

  Silas sighed. “They’re true. I am assigned to the CIA as a senior analyst. I’m their expert on the Russian naval operations. I’ve been studying and writing on the Russian Navy for most of my naval career. You can see why the Navy thought I’d be perfect for this assignment. I’ve. ”

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Two-plus years. I’m retiring in two more and they’ve promised to hire me as a civilian.”

  “And you just hoped the Russians didn’t know about your assignment to CIA.” She threw up her hands. “Once they hear those three letters, that’s it.”

  “Ma’am, my only goal was to support you. I planned to listen and observe. They might have revealed vital clues about their intentions.”

  She almost threw something at him. “We already know their intentions! This is a rescue operation! The Cold War ended while you were in college, but you’re still thinking that way, and so are the Russians.”

  “Ma’am, I’m not supposed to discuss my CIA affiliation. It’s need-to-know only.”

  “Which I obviously did!” She fought to keep her temper from rising any further. “That’s the problem with need-to-know. The people who need to know aren’t the ones who make the decision about what they get to know. Too many secrets.”

  Silas had no immediate response, but his expression had changed as they talked, the lines in his face sliding slowly downward. He looked profoundly unhappy.

  “Dr. Patterson, I’m very sorry that my poor judgment has caused this problem. I understand that you want to help rescue those Russians, and I’ve messed that up.” He spoke carefully, almost formally. “Tell me what I can do.”

  “There isn’t anything,” she answered. “That’s the worst part of it all. We’ve missed our chance. I pulled that one opportunity out of thin air and I don’t know where the next one will come from.”

  There was nothing else either of them could say. She dismissed Silas. “Go on, you’ve got a trip report to write for your bosses at Langley.”

  * * *

  Patterson found Rudel in Churchill’s wardroom, saying his good-byes. Captain Baker had loaded the helicopter with fresh supplies and other items for Seawolf’s crew. Baker was wishing the submarine captain luck, but Ken Bover was still trying to convince him that it was time to head for por
t, with no effect.

  Rudel shook Patterson’s hand slowly, with a grim expression. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” he apologized. “Do you have a Plan B?”

  “Not yet. I’m still trying to pick up the pieces of Plan A.”

  “You know, I tried to ‘forget’ that envelope on the table. A Russian officer followed me and gave it back. He treated it like pornography.”

  She laughed in spite of her mood. “It could have been. They’ll never know.”

  Rudel shrugged. “Maybe they’ll get lucky and the charges will work. AS-34 will start its dive in about four hours.”

  “I really hope it does. But they’d have a better chance if they’d used your survey,” Patterson grumbled. “They have to see it.”

  “Only if you can trick them into looking. You’d have better luck if it really was pornography,” Rudel said suggestively.

  She smiled knowingly. “And where do you find pornography these days?”

  Skynews Report

  “Stunning images of the mortally wounded Russian submarine Severodvinsk have been obtained by Britt Adams, one of our Skynews correspondents.

  They show the crippled vessel lying on the seabed, tilted to the left so far that the crew inside are unable to escape.

  “These pictures were taken by robotic underwater vehicles launched from the submarine USS Seawolf, which was also involved in the collision with Severodvinsk. Although the hull looks relatively intact, detailed digital photographs show heavy damage, piercing the pressure hull and flooding several sections of the submarine’s interior.

  “Russian Federation Navy spokesmen have refused to respond to questions about the images, and U.S. Navy spokesmen will only say that the images were not released through their office, so they cannot comment on their accuracy or authenticity. They emphasize that USS Churchill and USS Seawolf are both standing by to render whatever assistance the Russians may require.

  “Adams also reports that the Russians are in the final stages of preparations and may be ready to attempt a rescue very soon.”