Fatal Thunder

by Larry Bond

  The submarine’s momentum carried it forward, lifting its stern clear of the water as it rotated about its shattered bow. Slamming back down into the water, the boat jumped a bit and then settled quickly. The aft part of the boat came crashing down onto the ocean floor; the harsh impact caused the shaft seals to fail, and water began pouring into yet another compartment. Skidding to a stop, Chakra lay still, bleeding to death.

  USS North Dakota

  * * *

  “Loud explosion bearing two six zero! There’s breaking-up noise, loss of propulsion plant tonals!” reported the sonar supervisor. But unlike the last time, there were no cheers, no congratulatory backslapping. Just silence.

  Thigpen finally broke the stillness. “It looks like we got her, sir.”

  Jerry nodded and sighed; he felt relief and sadness at the same time. A lot of brave men had just been killed, betrayed by their fleet commander, and executed by their former skipper—the irony couldn’t have been more tragic. Jerry watched as Samant walked slowly out of control, spots of water appearing on the deck as he headed aft.

  Petrov had started to move toward him when Jerry grabbed his arm. “Let him go, Alex. He needs some time alone. He has to deal with this on his own terms. It’s what he wanted.”

  The Russian fought initially, then stopped, heeding Jerry’s counsel. Petrov knew exactly how Samant felt; he’d lost a boat and some of his men as well. He knew that his friend would never get over this day. Sometimes doing the right thing can be personally devastating.

  Facing Jerry, Petrov remarked quietly, “That was the most courageous act I’ve ever witnessed. I don’t know if I could do what he had to.”

  Jerry shook his head, struggling with his own emotions. “I know I couldn’t.”

  INS Chakra

  * * *

  The pounding of his head dragged Kirichenko to a state of semiconsciousness. He tried to move, but found he was pinned under a console. The central post was dimly lit by the battle lanterns; wisps of smoke floated through the beams. No one moved.

  Off to his right, Kirichenko saw Jain’s body draped over the navigation plotting table, his neck at an unnatural angle. The Russian felt his eardrums pop and he heard the noise of rushing water. He could feel the cold liquid as it crawled up his legs.

  Unable to completely understand what was going on, Kirichenko did realize that Chakra was dead, and that he would be soon enough. Weary and racked with pain, he couldn’t summon the strength to try and move the console off of him. Then he saw a shadow move, or thought he did.

  At first, he couldn’t make it out. But then it looked like men slowly making their way toward him. He tried calling out to them, but all he could manage was a faint gurgle. As the nebulous figures got closer, Kirichenko thought they looked odd. They didn’t seem to be Indian. Then two of them moved into the light. They were pale, vague images, dressed in Russian naval uniforms. Straining to focus his eyes, he finally caught sight of the billet patch on the closest individual; it was in Russian, and it read COMMANDER.

  Panic gripped Kirichenko as the muddy seawater lapped upon his face. More and more of the wraithlike images huddled around him, waiting patiently. Soon the seawater covered his mouth and he struggled to breathe through his nose. The apparitions were now all smiling, and began reaching out to him. And just before the murky water covered his eyes, he saw the commissioning pin on the commander’s uniform—the name on the pin was Gepard.

  23

  CLEANUP

  20 April 2017

  0800 EST

  White House Situation Room

  Washington, D.C.

  * * *

  “The water depth is only fifty-two meters, Dr. Patterson. What do your experts tell you?” The Chinese minister of national defense sounded impatient, like he’d already had this discussion, perhaps more than once.

  Patterson tried to sound positive. “My experts tell me we likely have a few days, General. They want to use some of that time to find out if there is a way to use conventional explosives. They think they can adapt one of our air force’s Massive Ordnance Penetrators for the task. They’re running simulations now to see how the bomb behaves in an underwater explosion. The tamping effect…”

  General Shi interrupted, “We’ve considered that as well. The problem is that no matter how big a conventional device is used, there is no guarantee that the devices in the remaining nuclear torpedoes will be destroyed. It might simply shred and scatter the wreck, leaving the torpedo warheads intact. Even one or two one-hundred-fifty-kiloton bombs detonating off our coast could do tremendous damage.

  “And what if a conventional explosion merely damages the devices so they fail to detonate? The wreck is not in deep water. It is conceivable that some organization could search the wreck and recover them.” The general’s voice hardened. “We have been threatened with rogue nuclear weapons once. We will not let it happen again.”

  Patterson argued, “Our engineers are optimistic they can come up with a nonnuclear way to destroy the torpedoes in Chakra’s wreck.”

  “So are ours,” Shi countered, “but can they do it in time? We know the torpedoes were not fitted with any kind of deadman switch, or they would have exploded already. But we don’t know the Indians’ timetable. How far north were they going to go? The list of targets your source discovered goes all the way to Qingdao and Dalian. Do we have days, or hours? And your people have suggested that the Indian captain had the ability to change targets, skipping one port to save time.”

  “That’s true,” Patterson conceded.

  “Then they could probably reset the timers, as well,” Shi continued. “In truth, the hulk of that submarine could explode with the equivalent of a six-hundred-kiloton nuclear bomb at any moment. We’ve issued the standard notice to airmen and mariners, and our navy is doing its best to keep the area clear, but when those bombs go off, people are going to die, and more will die later from the fallout. The only certain way to completely destroy everything inside the submarine’s hull is with another nuclear device—much smaller than the one-hundred-fifty-kiloton weapons on board, but big enough.”

  Patterson recognized that Shi’s argument was based on hyperbole. It would be virtually impossible for all four timers to hold the exact same time, within nanoseconds of each, and at best two weapons might detonate simultaneously—the other weapons destroyed in the blast before their fuze mechanisms could get them started. But still, that meant a three-hundred-kiloton explosion. On the whole, the general’s reasoning was sound. “All right,” she conceded. “The U.S. will support your decision. How big a bomb will you use?” she asked.

  “I don’t think that’s important, as long…”

  “We’ll be able to measure the size of the blast as soon as you detonate it,” she pointed out.

  Shi nodded. “Of course. My country, like yours, has a store of nuclear depth bombs designed for use against hostile submarines. They can be set for different yields. Our minesweepers have already verified the location of the wrecked submarine and placed a buoy over it. North Dakota’s initial position report was most accurate and due to her assistance, we were able to quickly assess the situation. Our aviators say they can place the depth bomb within half a meter of the wreck, perhaps directly on it, by helicopter. After listening to our best scientists, the Central Military Commission decided on a ten-kiloton yield.”

  I’ll bet the experts said five would be sufficient, she thought. Still, in a case like this, overkill might be the best course.

  “When will this happen?”

  “Tomorrow morning at zero six hundred hours, just after dawn local time,” Shi answered. “We will be ready sometime later tonight, but we will wait until it is light and we can be sure that all ships and aircraft are out of the area. Because it is a much smaller explosion, we only have to clear an area a few kilometers square. The fireball will be less than four hundred meters in diameter, with no damage three kilometers from the center. Even the fallout from the explosion will only e
xtend a few tens of kilometers to the northeast, all over open water. If the four torpedoes were allowed to detonate, the fallout cloud would reach all the way to the Korean peninsula.”

  “Is there anything we can do to assist you?” Patterson asked. She tried to sound helpful.

  “China is taking this action unilaterally, and does not require the permission or assistance of any nation or organization to protect its citizens.” Shi paused, then scowled. “But we would ask for America’s support in the Western media that this deliberate, peaceful detonation of a nuclear device is intended to save lives and reduce damage.”

  Patterson thought about all the back-and-forth the U.S. and the PRC had engaged in, for so many years. They were still rivals, but that didn’t mean the two countries had to act like jerks all the time. “Ending this incident quickly and safely is in everyone’s interest. You can count on the U.S. administration releasing a statement in support of your operation. We have no interest in furthering tension or mistrust in the region. And General, I would submit that the more information the People’s Republic of China releases about this operation, the better.”

  General Shi sighed and suddenly looked very tired. “China is grateful for America’s continuing assistance, and we will consider your advice carefully.”

  21 April 2017

  1100 Local Time

  Amritsar, India

  * * *

  The local police had set up a checkpoint a block away from the address. Senior inspector Narendra Bhati had to thread his way through a crowd of locals to reach the barrier, but after seeing his badge, the officers guarding it quickly saluted and moved aside to let him past. A Sikh police corporal offered to guide him to the lieutenant who was the on-scene commander.

  The crime scene was a mass of flashing lights and dozens of people milling about. Most were firemen or police, with a sprinkling of other emergency workers. The corporal led him past a line of idling fire engines to a van labeled “Amritsar District Police.” The doors were open and Bhati could see a very busy police lieutenant, also a Sikh, trying to speak on the radio and to a fireman at the same time. He noticed the corporal, with Bhati in tow, and held up one hand while he signed off the radio, then quickly finished with the sergeant.

  He also saluted when Bhati flashed his CBI credentials, then said happily, “I am more than pleased to turn over jurisdiction of this matter to the Central Bureau of Investigation.”

  “Not so fast, Lieutenant,” Bahti said. “Just what are you trying to give me?”

  “They didn’t tell you?”

  Bhati shook his head and replied with an irritated voice. “The office just gave me this address and said it was likely a CBI matter.”

  The lieutenant laughed. “‘Likely’ is one word for it. That makes sense. Security.” He took out a small notebook, and took a breath.

  “The fire brigade was called at nine eleven this morning, after they received a report of black smoke rising at an address on Canal Bank Road.” He tilted his head toward the bungalow behind him. “Emergency services received a call at nine twenty-five of gunshots at the same address. Two cars were dispatched and the fire brigade company en route was warned to wait for the police before entering the structure.

  “The fire brigade arrived at nine twenty-seven, the police two minutes later. They effected entry through the front door, which was unlocked, and declared the building cleared five minutes later. They discovered one individual, deceased, inside the house. As per standard procedure, a lieutenant and an ambulance were dispatched. I arrived while the fire brigade extinguished what appeared to be a trash fire in the backyard. They said it had been intentionally set.

  “I took charge of the scene, which was an apparent suicide of an elderly male. I immediately recognized the individual as someone wanted by the CBI. I notified headquarters, and they summoned you.”

  The lieutenant’s briefing, while efficient, was also entirely uninformative. “Who is it?” Bhati demanded with impatience. The lieutenant just put his finger to his lips, smiled, and motioned for the inspector to follow him. The fire brigade was still rolling up hoses, but they made room for the two men to pass.

  The yard was small and the landscaping was not particularly impressive. It was enclosed by a low iron fence, and a paved walkway led up to a modest house that was practical and well kept. The lieutenant explained, “It’s a rental property used mostly by tourists. The landlord is on his way here. He said the current occupant had rented it for two weeks.”

  The front door was open, leading into a well-furnished living room. An easy chair in one corner held the corpse of an older man. A spatter of blood and gray matter on the wall behind him told Bhati the manner of death, and an automatic pistol in his lap seemingly confirmed the method. He was sure the medical examiner would find the bullet hole and powder burns on the roof of his mouth.

  It wasn’t until then that he paused in his examination to look at the face of the corpse. It was untouched by the bullet. A shock of recognition and excitement flashed through Bhati’s body. Vice Admiral Badu Singh Dhankhar was the most wanted man in India, but he’d decided to make himself unavailable.

  Bhati gathered himself. The news media in India and indeed, throughout the world, had been in an uproar for two days. That was when the population had learned of a frightening plot that had been stopped by the destruction of the nuclear submarine, Chakra, and its crew of seventy-three. The submarine was destroyed by Indian naval assets after it had gone renegade and evidently intent on starting a nuclear war with China. Vice Admiral Dhankhar, a famous and respected naval officer, had been named as the ringleader, and his image was plastered all over India.

  The CBI had actually received orders to find Dhankhar two weeks earlier, for reasons then unexplained. News of the conspiracy had let Bhati and the rest of the special crime branch at the regional headquarters in Chandigarh put the pieces together.

  It was a miracle that the two police officers that cleared the house had not recognized him.

  “What about the fire?” Bhati asked, already suspecting the answer.

  “Mostly paper, but other objects as well. Pieces of plastic, and what looks like a melted cell phone, perhaps other personal electronics.” The lieutenant pointed to a bedroom. “There’s a laptop computer in there with several bullet holes through it.”

  The senior inspector organized his thoughts. “Bring in more men to fully secure the area, and your best forensics team. Tell the fire brigade not to touch the remains of that fire, but don’t let them leave yet. Have your people go over the entire house with a fine comb, and don’t let the two officers who found the body talk to anyone until I’ve spoken with them.”

  The lieutenant was writing rapidly as Bhati spat out orders. When he paused, Bhati realized he’d run out of urgent tasks. That was enough to get started. “You’ve done well, Lieutenant. Get your people busy. I have to make a call.”

  Bhati stepped outside to phone his superiors. As busy as this place was now, it was going to get a whole lot busier.

  23 April 2017

  0700 Local Time

  CNN

  * * *

  “This is Sam Markham with breaking news: The nuclear weapon originally intended for Victoria Harbor in Hong Kong finally detonated at noon local time today. Initial reports confirm it was a larger weapon—much, much larger than the ten-kiloton nuclear depth bomb used two days ago to destroy the wreck of the rogue Indian submarine Chakra and its deadly cargo.”

  An inset showed a flat ocean horizon suddenly rising up in an angry white ball, ringed with fire. “That relatively small explosion was in water less than two hundred feet deep. Luckily, this much larger weapon had been dropped into water over four thousand feet deep.

  “As far as can be determined, there was no loss of life or property damage. The explosion did not break the surface of the water, although the site was kept clear as a safety precaution. Scientific teams have moved in to determine the radiation levels at the site of th
e explosion and when it will be safe for fishing vessels to return to the area. Commercial traffic, which was severely disrupted by the exclusion zone, will resume normal operations immediately.

  “Although the Indians are credited with the destruction of their renegade submarine, apparently American naval forces were heavily involved, and the full story of the hunt and sinking of Chakra will depend on the willingness of those involved to share what was a battle hidden under the surface of a distant ocean.

  “The Indian government has declared a state of emergency while the hunt continues for the plotters of what we now know was called ‘Operation Vajra.’ The destruction of the rogue submarine and the suicide of the ringleader have not dampened the Indian authorities’ investigation completely, and what has been learned comes from several high-ranking government officials now facing charges of treason and terrorism.

  “News of the scandal forced the Indian delegation in Geneva to abandon the dormant Indo-Pak peace talks, literally disappearing in the middle of the night. Indian troops have been withdrawing to their original starting lines inside India for several days, and experts believe that the once-temporary cease-fire will now be extended indefinitely, even if an official peace treaty is never signed.

  “Upon receiving news of the final torpedo’s detonation, President Myles’s staff released a prepared statement. ‘This thankfully harmless explosion is the coda to the Littoral Alliance war, which has claimed more lives in recent days, but could have exploded into a worldwide disaster. Its successful resolution required the courageous efforts of both individuals and nations who were more interested in peace than power. Let their actions be an example to us all.’”

  EPILOGUE

  29 April 2017