by Larry Bond
The junior officers present just stared at the screen in stunned disbelief. The XO’s overview was beyond scary—it was horrific!
The ship’s engineer, Lieutenant Commander Philip Sobecki, finally broke the shocked silence. He turned slowly to Samant. “This is for real, sir? I mean, your old boat has been given orders to do this?”
Samant sighed. He was getting used to the fact that when a rational person was first exposed to the plot, they simply couldn’t comprehend that someone would actually attempt to murder millions. “I’m afraid so, Mr. Sobecki. And anything I could say would not answer your next question as to why. All you can do is accept what your first officer said and work with it.”
“Okay, people,” Jerry announced, “our squadron has been given this job because there isn’t another U.S. boat that has a prayer of getting into position before Chakra could arrive. Based on the scrubbed target list, the commodore has decided to have our boat guard the waters around Hong Kong. North Carolina has Ningbo-Zhoushan to Shanghai, and Texas is covering Qingdao and points north. The going assumption is that Hong Kong is the first target, and that’s why we’re here. This represents a best guess, folks, nothing more. And while I accept the squadron’s initial call, we can’t afford to focus on just one avenue of approach. So we’re going to have to develop our search plan with a lot of flexibility.”
Jerry turned to Petrov and asked, “Captain Petrov, in general, what were the improvements to Chakra’s sonar during her refit?”
“All the improvements were to the towed array,” began Petrov. “The new array is completely digital and the signal processing uses algorithms that were derived from the Irtysh-Amfora sonar suite that was on … on my old boat. Theoretically, you are looking at a potential four-to-five-decibel improvement in the signal-to-noise ratio.”
“Damn! That’s huge!” blurted Gaffney, North Dakota’s sonar officer.
Petrov smiled at the young officer’s outburst. “Yes, indeed, Lieutenant. I’m afraid this will complicate your search planning considerably.”
“Stuart, I want you to work with Captain Petrov to update Chakra’s sonar characteristics in our threat database. I need to know how much of our acoustic advantage we’ve just lost,” ordered Jerry.
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Gaffney.
He then looked toward Thigpen and added, “XO, you and the nav will work with Captain Samant to figure out Chakra’s best avenues of approach and a list of potential firing positions. I want contingency options if she doesn’t behave the way we think she will.”
Standing, Jerry finished his instructions to his crew. “We have a little more than two days before we reach the coast of Hong Kong. I need to have all this work completed and double-checked before we assume our station. Since it’s late, we’ll start first thing in the morning. Sleep well tonight, it will probably start getting a little hectic tomorrow.”
17
CONFESSION
9 April 2017
1200 Local Time
Wardroom, USS North Dakota
* * *
Aleks Petrov had never had sloppy joes and sweet-potato fries before, but it turned out to be very good. He was pleasantly surprised at the Americans’ culinary creativity, and it was a welcome break from the spicy Indian food he’d had to subsist on for months. For the first time in quite a while, Petrov felt safe and at ease—but there was an edginess that still nagged at him. Sure, he was on a submerged nuclear submarine, bound for a desperate battle with a dangerous opponent, but that was still a day away, at least, and he could use the time—in fact, he needed the time—to rest and heal. And think.
He’d remained quiet during the meal, seated with Samant at the head of the table on Jerry’s left, while the officers treated them as honored guests. A lively conversation had sprung up during lunch as they reconstructed Chakra’s encounters with North Dakota during the Littoral Alliance war. Although the conversation had begun as a continuation of the morning’s planning session, the discussion of an Akula-class’s strengths and weaknesses in a sub-on-sub battle had turned into an animated exchange of war stories.
Petrov’s left side still ached, from fatigue if nothing else. Although they’d gotten some sleep during the twelve-hour flight from India to Guam, he and Samant had also talked extensively, trying to understand their place in a massive conspiracy. And Petrov’s first night on board had been a restless one, with dreams of compartments flooding and men drowning. He’d awakened in a sweat, shaking as he tried to remember who the men were—he didn’t recall them being members of his crew on Severodvinsk. But they seemed somehow familiar. Exhausted, he managed to make it through the morning’s work with the help of lots of coffee.
Petrov had been unaware of the extent of Russia’s role in this mess until he’d listened to the Americans warn the Indian leadership. He was especially ashamed that Orlav and Kirichenko, former Russian naval officers, were the main culprits behind this scheme. Petrov doubted very much that Dhankhar had gone looking for Russian nuclear weapons on his own—Kirichenko would have initiated the first contact.
He felt he’d atoned somewhat by sharing information on Chakra’s recent modifications with the Americans. Normally such sensitive data would be considered classified by both the Russian and Indian navies, but if they were successful, it would be a moot point. And if they failed, they would have larger problems than a simple breach of security.
Petrov had said little at lunch, and then only in response to direct questions. More than once he caught Jerry giving him sidelong looks now and then. Petrov was also watching Mitchell as well, seated at the head of the table on his boat. The Russian fondly recalled his own short time as a submarine captain, and he envied Jerry. Petrov had always been honest with himself about the loss of Severodvinsk. He still missed being her captain, and he missed the men he’d lost, but there was no helping that now.
Petrov hated his dark mood. Surrounded by friends and allies, in a place he understood, he couldn’t shake the questions that plagued him. He really didn’t want to pursue the answers, and that dread of what the answers might be also added to his ill humor.
When the meal finally ended, Petrov excused himself and headed to the XO’s stateroom, which he and Samant had taken over while Thigpen moved in with Lieutenant Commander Sobecki and Lieutenant Iverson. His intention was to lie down and think, and hopefully lose himself in sleep, but Jerry followed him up the passageway, heading for his own quarters. The captain’s stateroom was next to the XO’s, of course, and on sudden impulse, Petrov approached him and asked, “Can I speak with you for a moment?”
Surprised, Jerry answered, “Of course,” and gestured toward the door he’d just opened.
Marginally larger than a walk-in closet, Jerry’s stateroom had the luxury of only one fold-down desk instead of two, and the extra floor space allowed room for a second chair. Petrov sat down, while Jerry dropped into the chair in front of the desk. It was similar enough to the captain’s stateroom on a Russian boat to trigger another wave of memories, but Petrov refused to give in to nostalgia.
“I have some serious questions to ask you,” Petrov announced.
Jerry Mitchell shrugged. “I’ll tell you whatever I can, Alex. After all this, there aren’t many secrets between us.”
The Russian sighed. “I hope that is true. Jerry, I learned some disturbing things listening to your president and Dr. Patterson speaking with the Indians. She described how a large number of missile warheads had been diverted and hidden in a barge off the coast of Novaya Zemlya, and that she had been part of the mission that discovered those warheads. Is this correct?”
“Accidentally discovered,” Jerry added, “as part of an environmental survey.”
“A strange place to count whales,” Petrov remarked. “But more importantly, she mentioned that she was aboard the submarine Memphis when they made the discovery.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Jerry looked a little puzzled.
“And you were aboard that submar
ine as well, as a junior officer.”
“Yes,” Jerry admitted.
“I began fitting the pieces together aboard the plane. The Northern Fleet commander, Admiral Yuri Kirichenko, was court-martialed for an incident off the coast of Novaya Zemlya, which turns out to be where he’d actually hidden dozens of smuggled nuclear weapons.”
Petrov drew a breath. “Kirichenko was dismissed from the service not because he sent the Northern Fleet on what turned out to be a wild-goose chase, but because our newest and best submarine, Gepard, with seventy-three men aboard, was lost in that operation. Her loss was a wound felt by every member of the navy, especially the submariners.
“I was a midgrade officer, a battle department commander on Tigr; Gepard was a squadron mate. I had competed with many others to be selected for her first crew. I knew most of her officers, some by reputation, and some very well, a few were close friends. I could have been aboard her when she was sunk.”
Jerry was listening carefully, and Petrov could see that he knew more. The American had been surprised by the topic, but had listened like someone who knew what the speaker would say.
“Tell me how Gepard was lost,” Petrov demanded. “You know, don’t you?” There might have been more intensity in his words than he planned, but he didn’t regret them.
Jerry took a deep breath. “Your navy found Gepard. The investigation determined that she had been sunk by one of her own torpedoes.”
“Yes, but what was she firing torpedoes at?” pressed the Russian. “Was Kirichenko chasing your sub when he sent all those ships and planes out?”
Petrov was watching Jerry’s face. He’d always believed Mitchell was honest and fair-minded, but the American seemed to be struggling.
Jerry sat for a moment, then another. He turned toward the desk, as if looking for something; then he faced Petrov again. “It probably doesn’t matter now, since the barge’s location was revealed to your government. Senator Hardy, my former skipper aboard Memphis, told me he briefed the Russian ambassador about our mission, but it was while my government was investigating the Kashmir explosion. Nothing has been made public.”
“There are many families that need to know how their loved ones died.” Petrov stated it flatly, and he could see it hit home with Mitchell. “My government will never tell them, not when it involves a breach of Russian nuclear safeguards.”
“You’re right,” Jerry admitted. After taking a deep breath, he started. “Dr. Patterson, and Emily, came aboard to oversee a secret mission that involved conducting a survey of radioactive waste disposal sites on the east side of Novaya Zemlya…”
It took the American almost ten minutes to describe Memphis’s mission into the waters near the Russian coast, their inspection of several dump sites, and their discovery of something far more dangerous. They were pursued and fired on by Russian naval forces. Damaged, they made good their escape, and had thought themselves safe when Gepard suddenly appeared and almost sank them. If not for Jerry’s Manta UUV, confusing and distracting the Russian sub, Memphis would have been sunk. “But we never fired a weapon, Alex, we physically couldn’t,” Jerry insisted.
Petrov had remained silent, asking only an occasional question about positions and ranges, as one submarine captain explained the engagement in terms the other understood completely. There was no uncertainty in the American’s narration. No fuzzy memories or gaps in the timeline.
“For what it’s worth, Alex, I’m very sorry about Gepard, and she’s never been far from my memories. We did our level best to just get away, and it was really just luck that saved us.”
Petrov scowled. “Did you intend to lure that last torpedo back toward Gepard with the Manta?”
Mitchell shook his head sharply. “No, absolutely not! I was trying to force Gepard to break off by running the Manta right at her. But she was violently maneuvering at the same time. She simply zigged when I had the Manta zag … both in the wrong direction. Before we knew it, one of the torpedoes had locked on to the Manta, and followed it in. The torpedo hit Gepard before I even had a chance to send a course-change order.”
Petrov felt a weight lift off his chest. He’d feared Mitchell’s answers, but they weren’t what he’d expected, and his faith in his friend had been confirmed. But now his mind was whirling with the new facts, comparing and fitting together pieces that spanned more than ten years, perhaps much more than ten. How long ago had Kirichenko hidden those warheads?
“Another seventy-three lives to lay at Kirichenko’s feet,” Petrov finally observed.
“On his headstone would be better,” Jerry added. “We can only hope, but first someone has to find him. Gepard, all the dead in Kashmir, and how many more could there be in China?” Jerry shuddered. “I’ll do anything I can to stop Chakra, even if it means sinking her. This must be tearing Girish Samant apart.”
The American paused for a moment, then added, “And now I’ll ask you for a favor. If you’re satisfied with my answers, please don’t tell anyone, for just a little while longer. Please,” he entreated.
“The families…” Petrov began, but trailed off.
“This won’t be secret for much longer. Four governments are involved as major actors: the U.S., Russia, India, and China. Now the Littoral Alliance is joining in the hunt. If it doesn’t leak out soon, the whole story will be revealed once Chakra is stopped. My country has no interest in keeping this secret once it’s over. If you’d like, we can speak to Joanna about the best way to get the information out.”
Petrov thought about it. Realistically, he couldn’t tell anyone until North Dakota returned to port. After that, how would the Russian government react to him spreading this information? And concealing his source would be nearly impossible, which might cost Jerry his career. But Joanna Patterson was in a position of power to force the issue, backed by the U.S. president; perhaps she could finally get the truth out. “All right, you have my word,” Petrov agreed.
In fact, how would the Russian government react when the entire episode became public? He asked Jerry that question, and the American just scratched his head. “The world’s been going nuts over the Kashmir explosion and the idea that there really could be loose nukes. Now add a whole barge full of them, hidden in violation of an arms treaty, being used by an Indian conspiracy to severely cripple China. And we’ve got hard evidence to back up the story. Can you imagine the media feeding frenzy?”
In spite of himself, Petrov laughed. “It will be interesting watching the news shows for several weeks.”
“And the best place for us may be on this submarine, at sea, and at depth,” Jerry added, smiling, “at least until the smoke clears.” He sat up straighter. “Migawd. I’ll have to warn Emily, and my sister Clarice in Minnesota. Emily can stay on the base and away from the media, but Clarice may have to move into a convent to get any peace.”
Petrov laughed again, remembering his own close family members. He told a story about his older brother Yevgeny’s experiment with propane in the family’s tractor. Then Jerry told one involving the use of high-pressure air in cleaning a bilge, and Alex told one about how the Russian Navy had once tried to clear the snow in Murmansk—with a turboprop. They talked for hours, and only stopped when it was time for Jerry to make his next set of rounds.
Petrov napped that afternoon, and woke refreshed.
9 April 2017
1930 Local Time
Control Room, USS North Dakota
* * *
To Samant, it was more like a movie set than a submarine control room. He and North Dakota’s executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Bernie Thigpen, had decided after dinner to continue work on the search plan. Samant was tired, and a full stomach had him yawning, but his mind was still alive with questions about the search: How would the new towed sonar affect Chakra’s ability to detect other ships and subs? But towed arrays didn’t work well in shallow water. Would Jain adjust his route to stay in deep water, even if it took longer?
As they worked, pa
rt of his mind cataloged the many differences between American and Indian submarines. The American sub’s control room was more spacious than he was used to, which was surprising because North Dakota was three-quarters the size of Chakra. The layout was different, of course, but he understood what everything did. And it amazed and frightened him. The American sub had better sensors, including the UUVs, and a far superior combat system to use the data those sensors provided. To top it off, her enlisted men were better trained. American senior petty officers were doing the same jobs as lieutenants on his submarine.
Not his sub, Samant corrected himself. Not anymore. Not even part of the Indian Navy anymore. He’d spent all afternoon telling Jerry Mitchell and the other Americans secrets that under normal circumstances would have gotten him thrown in jail. Instead, he hoped it was enough to save his country and end this nightmare.
Samant had hardened his heart to the thought of what they were doing, turning the anger he felt toward Dhankhar and Kirichenko. Even if Chakra was … stopped, it would still be a tragedy—just not a catastrophe. It also helped if he didn’t think about it too deeply, instead focusing on the here and now.
Using a spare display console, Thigpen had set up a series of encounters between Chakra and North Dakota, using different approach angles, depths, and acoustic conditions. According to the sonar simulation, the American boat still held an edge in good water. She was quieter, and her sensors were a little better. Another advantage that the computer couldn’t model was that North Dakota’s crew was familiar with her systems, while Jain and his men would still be trying to understand their new sonar’s capabilities.
Samant chided himself for thinking about Chakra’s new captain. He’d always been hard on his former first officer, but that was just his way of preparing the man for command—but not like this. He simply couldn’t understand why Jain had been so easily duped by Dhankhar’s plan. Samant took some small pleasure in knowing that the admiral had removed him from command because Dhankhar knew he couldn’t count on Samant to be part of the plot.