Fedorin turned, casting a seething gaze at Colonel General Vanzin, while Trusov continued his report. “In addition, two carrier strike groups departed their home ports this afternoon. That means six are now at sea, with indications that another is in final preparations. In short, Comrade President, the U.S. Navy has surged the majority of its naval assets within the last twenty-four hours. And while I don’t have any direct evidence, I believe their air and ground forces are also mobilizing, rapidly. I’ve instructed the armed forces’ intelligence organs to do a complete review by tomorrow morning.”
General Vanzin looked shocked. “How is this possible? We haven’t seen an appreciable increase in message traffic, or even e-mails sent out to the affected commands… how could they possibly surge within a day or two?”
“Probably because they’ve been secretly preparing for weeks, sending the orders out the old-fashioned way… by phone, or by courier,” explained Trusov. “Regrettably, Comrade President, there is more unpleasant news.”
Fedorin halted the defense minister’s report with a sharp hand gesture. A blistering expression showed his disdain as he yelled at Vanzin, “Leave now! Before I have you thrown out!”
Vanzin rose from the chair slowly, his body visibly shaking. He scooped up his leather-bound notebook and papers, bowed slightly and quickly retreated from the room. Many of the other staff members looked quietly pleased.
“Continue!” barked Fedorin as soon as the sharp click from the door reverberated throughout the conference room.
“Yes, sir. It is also apparent that the American spy submarine, Jimmy Carter, is not where we thought it was. The shipyard graving dock we saw her moved to late last month was discovered empty this afternoon. We have no knowledge of where she is right now, or when she left the dock. The report from Admiral Komeyev’s intelligence section makes the candid conclusion that she could already be loitering off the Prima Polar Station.”
Fedorin’s face twitched with rage, and he struggled to maintain his composure as he erupted, “How could this have happened!? Why were we unaware of the Americans’ activities!?”
“Comrade President, it is clear we have been collectively deceived by a well-executed disinformation campaign…” began Trusov.
“WHY WASN’T I INFORMED!?” screeched Fedorin.
Trusov was sorely tempted to march back to the president’s desk and throw the reports they’d both gone over in his face, but that would have little effect given Fedorin’s current state of mind. The defense minister had to get the discussion back to the main concern at hand. “I can assure you a complete investigation into this failure will be conducted, Comrade President, but we have more important problems to deal with right now.”
“Like what!?” Fedorin demanded.
“That the impetus for the disinformation campaign means the Americans probably are aware of Project Drakon, and the restoration offensive. We could be facing a fully mobilized NATO alliance if we are not careful.”
The room was suddenly filled with low rumblings as the service chiefs and directorate heads spoke to each other. Fedorin initially appeared panic-stricken by Trusov’s assertion, but then the president’s face became resolute and strangely calm. “No matter, General Trusov, we can still outmaneuver them. We will begin the campaign in two days.”
The muted rumors exploded into surprised shouts of alarm as the members of the General Staff protested. Trusov motioned for the crowd to calm down, but the army commander would have nothing to do with that. “You can’t be serious, Comrade President, many of our brigades are scattered, conducting training exercises, they are not even close to their stepping-off positions. And they will still need to be reprovisioned before we can send them into a high-intensity conflict. This will take more than two days!”
“General Isayev, we will never get a better opportunity to reclaim that which was lost to us. If we don’t go now, then there is every reason to believe that we won’t be able to in the future,” responded Fedorin evenly. “Yes, our troops will not be at their best, but we have trained more and harder than our adversaries. Need I remind you that the NATO Alliance has been greatly weakened by the Pacific War, the British exit from the EU, and the economic doldrums they are still wallowing in — they are taller, perhaps, on paper. In reality they are shorter than us.
“America is also weakened, and is desperately trying to keep the peace. Hardy is a new president and is still trying to get his feet under him. He has done nothing but react to our movements, we still have the initiative. If we don’t take advantage of this opportunity, with our enemies disorganized and war weary, then we are doomed to failure in our great cause. We must move forward. Russia must move forward.”
Pivoting sharply to face the chief of the Main Directorate for Deep Sea Research, Fedorin demanded, “What is the status of the Drakon launch complex?”
Admiral Rogov was uneasy; he was confident the president wouldn’t like his answer. Swallowing hard, he told his president, “We have four of the torpedoes loaded as of yesterday. Preparations to load the fifth have begun and are underway as we speak. But, it will take at least another week to finish loading all the weapons.”
Fedorin surprisingly didn’t launch into another rant, but simply nodded with an air of conviction. “Very well, Admiral. Cease loading any additional weapons and begin system alignment and testing. I need those four torpedoes operational within two days. And as for you, Admiral Komeyev, I want that American submarine found and killed.”
The crew remained tense while they recovered the UUVs, constantly looking over their shoulder for the phantom that had brushed by so closely. Jerry headed forward once the second UUV was safely in the ocean interface module. As he walked into control Weiss had already turned Carter westward. He needed to head back to the Toledo gap, but he also hoped they’d get another glimpse of… whatever it was.
Jerry found Weiss and Segerson over at the starboard plotting table talk; the conversation appeared intense, punctuated with rapid hand movements toward the paper plot. Both were trying very hard to look calm. Jerry could feel the tension from all around him. Squeezing by the fire control positions he leaned on the table and asked nonchalantly, “So, just how close did Kazan get to our derrière?”
Segerson looked confused, Weiss had more of a poker face, but both were amazed by the abrupt question. Recovering quickly from the surprise, Segerson queried, “How do you know it was Kazan, Commodore?”
“Elementary, XO, we know she’s at sea, and only a boat as quiet as a Severodvinsk class could get that close to a Seawolf without being detected earlier. So, we’re talking, what, four to five thousand yards, give or take?”
Weiss let a taut grin materialize on his face; his commodore was spot on. “We’re looking at about five k-yards at CPA, sir, although given the size of the beam widths, she could have been a lot closer.”
“Nah, that wasn’t all that close!” exclaimed Jerry, waving his hand in dismissal. Then with a little more volume, “That wasn’t close, was it COB?”
Gibson, seated in the diving officer’s chair, shook his head without turning. “Nope, we had plenty of room, Commodore. I don’t know what those two are fretting about.”