The final assault took place thirty-four seconds into the event. The instant the rocket torpedo blasted through the bow shutter, the excess internal pressure in the hull vented through the open torpedo tube—like air bleeding from a balloon. Seawater gushed into the tube.
The main storage batteries flooded under the deluge and shorted out, triggering a cascade of events that led to the shutdown of the reactors.
Without power, the propeller stopped rotating. As the Neva slowed, its forward diving planes lost lift, causing the bow to dip downward. The seawater pouring into the open torpedo tube tripled the downward track.
The CCP watch officer had ordered an emergency blow of the ballast tanks, hoping to surface the boat. But it was too little, too late.
The enormous weight of the flooded compartments caused the Neva to plunge bow first into the bottom; it plowed a thirty-meter-long furrow into the muddy bottom before coming to rest.
The XO and the three other survivors with EBAs evacuated to a partially flooded upper deck in Compartment Two. With no lights and the intercom shorted out, they sat in the darkness, freezing. They lasted twenty minutes before succumbing to oxygen toxicity induced by breathing air compressed over twenty times atmospheric pressure.
* * *
Laura studied the live video images of the torpedo room until Yuri said, “It’s time that we move to Compartment Two.”
“Okay. How do I get Mack there?”
“Stay to the right and head aft.”
Laura checked the screen as she manipulated the ROV’s joystick. The opening revealed a narrow hallway. Mechanical debris, mainly piping and electrical cables, hung from the overhead—impact damage when the Neva collided with the bottom.
“Mind the debris,” Yuri warned. “The tether could get hung up.”
“Okay.”
* * *
About an hour after the sinking, acting Captain Borodin had summoned all compartment heads to the central command post. That’s when Yuri learned the nature of their situation.
The Neva lay mired in muck under 220 meters of enemy waters. Captain Tomich, XO Gromeko, and fifty-one of the crew were dead.
With the nuclear reactors offline and the main batteries fried, the backup batteries in Compartment Five served as the Neva’s only source of power; but they provided just a quarter of the main’s amperage.
The forward 30 percent of the pressure casing had flooded, which in addition to the torpedo room included most of the crew’s quarters, the boat’s galley and mess areas, and much of the food.
Yuri remembered his thoughts at the end of Borodin’s briefing. We’re all dead men. No one’s getting off this thing.
* * *
As Little Mack swam aft through the passageway, Yuri scrutinized the video display. His heart rate accelerated in anticipation of what lay ahead. He spotted it in the merged beam of the dual floodlights. Thank God!
“That’s the door just ahead,” Yuri said, tapping a finger on the display.
Laura stared at the screen. The ROV hovered about twenty feet away from a bulkhead. Near the center of the steel wall just above the deck, she spotted a circular penetration. “It’s open like you thought it might be. That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes, very good.”
The passageway to the second compartment was about three feet in diameter. Had the side-mounted steel bulkhead door next to the opening been shut, the buildup of pressure would have ruptured the bulkhead. Repairing a burst bulkhead underwater would be virtually impossible. But closing the door would be no simple matter, either.
Although hidden from the camera’s view, a latch locked the open door in place.
“What should I do?” Laura asked.
Yuri refreshed his memory. This particular latch had a simple spring-loaded mechanism. Once released, the three-hundred-pound door would pivot into the closed position with a gentle shove. But one needed a hand to trigger the release. Little Mack, unfortunately, had no means to accomplish such a task.
“Try coming alongside the door and giving it a little push.”
“You want me to see if I can move it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Yuri watched as the ROV moved closer to the door. Twelve feet away it stopped advancing. He leaned toward Laura. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not responding. I’m applying maximum thrust, but it just stopped.”
“Try moving it up half a meter.”
“Okay, but I don’t think that’ll help.”
Laura adjusted the control and the video image responded. Little Mack moved upward a foot but remained the same distance from the door.
“I still have vertical control but why won’t it—” Laura stopped as she made the connection. “Oh no! The tether must be caught on something!”
“I think you’re right. You’d better turn it around and take a look.”
Laura backed off the thrust and rotated Little Mack in place. The neutrally buoyant tube snaked into the forward section of the torpedo room.
She saw the problem—a coil in the tether looped itself around a valve stem.
Laura worked the snag for ten minutes. Near tears, she said, “Yuri, I’m sorry but I just can’t seem to free it!”
“Take a break—this was bound to happen. It’s not your fault.”
Laura slumped back in her chair.
Like a dog chained to a stake, Mack could move about twenty-five feet forward or aft from its anchor point but no farther.
Yuri considered the options: They could keep trying to fish the loop off the valve stem. Yet, he knew it would be an almost impossible task considering the severe limitations of the ROV.
They were so close—they couldn’t give up!
After Laura made several more attempts to unravel the coil, Yuri surrendered. “Laura, we’ve done all that we can.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s time we head back in.”
“But why? We can keep trying.”
“It’s no use. We’re not going to free Little Mack that way. I have another plan.”
Laura stood. “What are you going to do?”
“Little Mack proved there’s a clear path from the open torpedo tube all the way to the door between Compartments One and Two. That’s great news because all that needs to be done is to seal the door. Then the crew can release compressed air into Compartment Two to displace the water. Like we talked about, that will significantly increase buoyancy.”
“Which will break the hull’s bond to the bottom,” Laura added.
“Yes, with luck.”
Laura furrowed her brow. “Just how do we seal the hatch if we abandon Little Mack?”
“I’m going to do it.”
Laura canted her head to the side, aghast. “That’s insane—it’s so deep and you’re still hurt. No way!”
“Once I’m in the water my leg will be fine.”
“You’ll have to swim down and come back up. The decompression time will be horrendous.”
“I’ve done it before; I can do it again.”
Laura’s face tightened. “No, Yuri. You’re in no condition to make a dive like that.”
“There is no other way.”
“Let me work with Little Mack some more!”
“No. We don’t have the time.”
“Another half hour—please!”
“We need to wrap this up. I have to brief the Neva and then we’re going to return to the marina.”
“What for?”
“We need to go to Vancouver—to that place that Nicolai found that has helium and oxygen. I’ve got to recharge my tanks before I can make the dive tonight.”
“Tonight!”
“Yes. This has to be done at night. I can’t allow the Neva to surface in the daylight.”
CHAPTER 54
“Privet,” Elena announced as she stepped into the Hercules’s main cabin.
Nick sat at the galley table, scanning the Sports section of Sat
urday’s Seattle Times. He looked up. Even in blue jeans and a windbreaker, Elena looked terrific. He smiled. “I wondered when you’d get here,” he replied in their native tongue.
She slid onto the bench seat opposite Nick. “What have you been up to? The mission’s in a frenzy—I was called in. The chief was there himself.”
Nick shrugged and gestured toward the companionway that led up to the pilothouse. He continued in Russian: “Miller’s been a total jerk. He won’t cooperate anymore unless he gets his bonus, up front and in cash.”
Elena had been at her apartment, preparing to return to Point Roberts when she took the call ordering her to the mission. She now served as the chief of mission’s official cash delivery person. She also carried the Beretta and its suppressor in her handbag.
“Do you have it?” Nick asked.
Elena reached into her handbag and removed a small packet. She handed it over.
He peeled the cover away revealing a stack of U.S. hundred-dollar bills.
“Twenty thousand?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Nick fanned through the bundle of bills. “This should take care of the mudák.”
Elena eyed the cash. “How did you pull this off? The chief just gave me the money and told me to get it to you—nothing else.”
“I called my boss from the boat and told him I needed twenty K in four hours.”
“I bet that went over well.”
“He was not happy.” Nick grinned. “He was getting ready to head over to Golden Gate Park for an afternoon outing with his wife and daughter.
“Anyway, he called your boss. Apparently, the mission keeps a stash on hand for emergencies. I think I made a big dent in it.”
“Are you going to give all of that to him now?”
“Just half—his down payment, the rest tomorrow. This vessel is critical so I have to keep him motivated.”
“What did you do out there today?”
“Yuri and Laura got the robot inside the hull to survey the damage.”
Her eyes widened. “They were inside the Neva with that underwater machine?”
“Yeah, she swam it through a torpedo tube—just amazing.”
Elena slumped back in the seat, stunned.
Nick toyed with the wad of cash. “Yuri says they accomplished everything they could with the ROV. He’s going to make a dive later tonight and needs to replenish his air supply first.”
“How’s he going to do that?”
Nick checked his wristwatch. “He and Laura took off half an hour ago, heading back to that place we took him the other day.”
“That diving company in North Van?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s closed. What does he expect to find there?”
“All I know is that he took some of his diving equipment.”
“I don’t like the thought of those two running around in Vancouver. If he’s picked up . . .”
“I was in no position to interfere. He’s in charge here.”
“Why didn’t you go with him, keep an eye on him?”
“Because I’m alone, Elena. Remember, you took off, wanted nothing to do with this operation!” He again glanced at the nearby stairwell. “I’ve got to watch over that jerk up there. He’s the wild card.”
Elena knew when she was checkmated. She said, “What’s Kirov’s plan?”
“He’s going to swim inside a torpedo tube and close a door that separates the torpedo room from the next compartment. When it’s closed, the Neva’s crew will pump the water out of the isolated compartment and then the hull’s supposed to pop up to the surface.”
“They could be rescued—tonight?!”
“Yeah, that’s what he said.”
Elena was stunned. “There’s what, thirty of them?”
“Thirty-six now, I think.”
“What are YOU going to do with ’em? I don’t have anything set up.”
“What about the warehouse you found near the airport and that chartered jet? And the passports? You know, the exit plan!”
“There is no plan! Everything was canceled when Moscow called off the rescue.” Elena raised her hands in frustration. “What were you thinking? When they pulled the plug on the operation, the entire exit process was shut down.”
“I thought there might be something usable.” Nick took a deep breath. “What do you expect me to do, now?”
“You’ve got to call it off.”
“Impossible. When Yuri returns we’re going back out. He’s going down to the Neva and seal that door.”
“But you know our orders. He’s supposed to be on a plane back to Moscow by now or dead.”
“Moscow has no comprehension of the tactical situation here. Yuri has a good chance of pulling it off.”
“But what if he fails—then what do we do?”
“Try something else, I guess.”
“You guess! Don’t you remember what he told us when we first met him?”
“What?”
“As a last resort, the Neva’s captain will send up some kind of emergency beacon that will alert the Americans.”
“But they’d only do that after destroying all of the critical codes and equipment.”
“Maybe they could do that but the remains of the Neva would be right here, under their noses. What kind of intelligence coup do you think that would be for the American Navy, along with all the bad PR we’d get? I can see the headlines: ‘Red Spy Sub Caught Red-Handed! ’ ”
Elena did not add that she might also be captured and charged with espionage. Even with diplomatic immunity, her career would be over.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Elena, that’s not going to happen.”
“It’s too risky. You’ve got to stop this.”
Nick was disgusted with Elena’s shortsightedness. “We must do everything we can to help the crew—they’re our own people. We can’t let them die because of SVR protocols.”
Elena said, “There’s another complication to all this.”
“What now?”
“Moscow dispatched a special team to secure the Neva.”
Nick leaned forward; his stomach tightened.
Elena spelled out the basics and Nick responded, “Are they spetsnaz?”
“No, some kind of special FSB team.” Elena divulged the details of Operation Eagle.
Nick reacted, “Their job is to secure the Neva—nothing about rescue?”
“They’ve been told that the crew died in the initial accident. They’re supposed to survey the hull, plant scuttling charges, and then blow it up.”
“By diving to the bottom?”
“No. They have some kind of robotic device they’re going to use. The officer in charge said it’s designed to detect and defuse underwater mines. It’s launched from a surface vessel.”
“Must be some kind of ROV.”
“ROV?”
“Remotely operated vehicle—like what Kirov and his woman have been using.”
“I guess so. It was still crated up when I left Bellingham.”
“Do they know anything about Yuri?”
“No, nothing. They’ve been told there were no survivors.”
Nick scowled. “What a screwup. Those bolváns in Moscow don’t give a crap about the Neva.”
“That’s obvious.”
“What’s their schedule?”
“Tomorrow morning they start searching for the Neva—they still think we don’t know its location. They have search gear, some kind of underwater radar.”
“If we’re still out there, they’ll spot the Hercules for sure. Then what’ll we do?”
* * *
Dan Miller sat in his captain’s chair in the pilothouse sipping coffee. He gazed westward. It would soon be dark as the sun dipped behind the peaks of Vancouver Island. He had just returned from the galley, refreshing his mug and collecting his ten-thousand-dollar down payment. Nick the Prick and the sexy blonde remained seated below at the mess table.
The previo
us night’s excursion had drained Miller yet he remained alert thanks to coffee. He’d had far more than his usual two to three cups a day. Since they would be heading out again this evening, he hadn’t let up.
He did not trust the pair below.
Miller had to play hardball with Nick over the bonus. And sometimes he heard them talking in low tones but not in English, like this afternoon—what was that about?
Miller spent several minutes recalling what had transpired over the past twenty-four hours. What are they looking for on the bottom?
He’d asked that question on several occasions to each of the four players. Yet, not one of them had revealed any details.
He suspected a wreck. Oddly, though, nothing had shown up on any of the three depth sounders when the Hercules repeatedly crossed over the target coordinates. Miller purposely kept a close eye on the main depth sounder display, waiting for a telltale bottom bump to reveal the wreck’s presence. But he observed nothing concrete, just a slight blur now and then.
With no clear evidence of a wreck, Miller concluded that his charter customers were trying to recover something small dropped overboard from a ship. But what could be so important to go to all this trouble?
After running through several scenarios of likely possibilities, he’d narrowed it down to just one: Most of the vessels in the adjacent shipping lanes sailed from Asia; most of the world’s heroin came from Asia; and Vancouver had a growing drug problem.
It took a few seconds before the full impact of Miller’s revelation registered: He’d chartered the Herc to drug traffickers.
* * *
The forty-two-foot Explorer returned to its berth—an enclosed boathouse at the Squalicum Harbor in Bellingham.
Captain Duscha Dubova stood on the floating pier next to the boathouse, viewing the early-evening harbor lights. Her assistant, Lieutenant Grigori Karpekov, remained inside the yacht’s salon running diagnostic checks on the survey electronics.
The test run in Bellingham Bay took about an hour once Karpekov worked out the bugs. Operation of the side scan system was black magic to Dubova; nevertheless, she endorsed its use. Trying to find the Neva without the sonar would be a near impossible task. They only had a general location of the sunken submarine.
The Good Spy Page 19