Pete let that thought seep in.
"In the next few days, I expect things to get hot for us. But no matter what, gentlemen, always remember that you were here. Now." He looked at every one of them, fighting back tears. "And always remember, I am very proud of you – each and every one of you."
"We're proud of you, Skipper, " one of them said. "We're in this together."
The control room fell silent again, except for the faint hum of the freighter's engines above. That seemed appropriate, given the gravity of the moment. All eyes went back to the black and amber screen. They were now passing under the First Bosphorus Bridge.
Pete contemplated it all.
If the Turks were going to stop them, they probably would have by now. His sub was making history. But this history would never be recorded in the books or studied at the Naval War College.
They passed under the First Bosphorus Bridge, beginning a slight turn to the left, now on a course due north and headed toward the second bridge.
If this would be his last mission, if he would soon die, if he would sacrifice all for country and was about to lead his men to their watery graves with him, why not let his mind linger a little longer on the eternal memories he had left behind. Coley crossing home base after his first home run. Hannah beaming from getting superior scores at "Miss Michelle's" dance competitions. The children's first communion. Making sandcastles and sandsharks during summer vacations at Hilton Head. Their giddy laughter when playing "tickle monster." Their first steps. He was there for it all before the divorce.
In the silence of the moment, he envisioned the last time he saw them. For in three hours, God willing, there would be no time for daydreaming. Twenty miles into the Black Sea, Volga River would retract her giant O-rings, and Honolulu would be set free to become again what she was meant to be: a deadly hunter-killer of the depths.
He would find and destroy the Alexander Popovich.
The rest would be in God's hands.
CHAPTER 13
Erebuni Air Base
Outside Yerevan, Armenia
Captain Alexander Giorsky sat in the cockpit of his MiG-29 Fulcrum at the end of the runway at Erebuni Air Base. The Fulcrum was armed with the latest laser-guided air-to-surface missiles, soon to be delivered courtesy of the Russian Air Force to targets around Grozny.
But Giorsky wasn't concerned about the ground munitions at the moment. Rather, his focus was on the R-73 Archer air-to-air missiles that he would fire at an American fighter.
The MiG-29 had defeated the American-built F-16 on many occasions in war games conducted by the German Luftwaffe. But the F-15 Eagle was another question. The twin-engined Eagle was not as good as the U.S. Navy's now-retired F-14 Tomcat, nor was it as nimble as the smaller F-16 Falcon. But the Eagle was much faster than the Falcon, carried more Sidewinder missiles, and had a better long-range attack capability. Still, the Eagle would have its hands full againt the MiG.
The final check on the R-73 Archers showed them ready to go. The R-27 Alamo medium-range air-to-air missiles were mounted and ready.
Giorsky signalled thumbs-up to his wing man, Junior Lieutenant Staas Budarin, who sat in the cockpit of the Fulcrum at the end of the runway just behind him.
Captain Alexander Giorsky could not suppress his adrenalin at the prospect of tangling with an American F-15 Eagle. If so, he would show the Americans that the MiG-29 Fulcrum was the best jet fighter in the world, and that Russian pilots were the best in the history of air warfare.
The Alexander Popovich
The Black Sea
She weaved her hand through his outstretched elbow, plastering a smile on her face. When his bloodshot eyes and lecherous grin turned her way, she brought her other hand to his elbow also, for added spice. They stepped onto the main deck of the freighter. Cool breezes from the blue waters of the Black Sea chilled her all over.
The children were playing and laughing over in the center of the main deck. One of them spotted her, followed by shouts of "Masha! Masha!" They charged her with arms outstretched – all twelve of them – like a stampede of wild horses.
She released the man who would have her dead and kneeled down, holding her arms wide open. Little Dima was the first to embrace her. Blonde and scrawny, his slightly crossed blue eyes radiated like the full moon through the thick glasses that the Allisons had bought for him.
But his smile! Oh, how his smile could light up a room. Or a house. Or a city block for that matter!
She would have never admitted it, but Dima was her favorite. She would adopt him if she were married and could afford it.
Her arms wrapped around him tightly, and her hands felt the leathery third-degree scars all over his back. Scalding water poured on him by an abusive parent had nearly killed him. When a relative called the police, they snatched him out of the hellhole where he was living and brought him to the orphanage.
"I love you, Masha!" He smiled and planted a huge kiss on her cheek.
She kissed his forehead. "I love you too, Dima."
Sasha, Katya, Svyetlana, Staas, and the others rushed her like little ducklings swarming their mother. They hugged and kissed and kissed and hugged. She let all twelve of them get into the act before she said anything.
"Children, this is Kapitan Batsikov. He is the captain of the Alexander Popovich. He came down to meet you! Would any of you like to ask questions to a real sea captain?"
"Kapitan! Kapitan! Can I drive the ship?"
"Kapitan! I want to see them making the food!"
"Dah! Me too."
"Children! One at a time!"
They hushed but kept raising their hands and standing on their tiptoes.
"Let me handle this!" Batsakov said in a grandfatherly voice. He went down on one knee. They surrounded him. Masha wanted to vomit.
The knife was tied to her thigh with a scarf. She considered driving it into the man's back.
She glanced down at Dima, whose eyes were glued on the captain. She would rather go to prison than let him die.
"Miss Katovich!" Masha realized that the captain was calling her name. "They want to know if they can go swim with the dolphins. What do you say?"
"Oh, I think the water is too deep and we are too far from shore!" she said.
"Besides, " Batsakov added with a sinister laugh, "you might get eaten by the sharks! Ha, ha, ha!"
"You mean there are really sharks out here?" Sasha's eyes were bug-eyed.
"Dah! Dah, " the captain said. "These waters are filled with sharks. If you ever fall overboard, better to let yourself drown, because soon the sharks will come and bite off your feet, and then bite off your legs, and then…"
"Really?"
"Dah! Dah!" the captain continued. "And then they will eat your arms and your head and save the rest of your body for the crabs! Ha! Ha!"
Their eyes widened. Masha wanted to plunge the knife in his back.
"And now, children, I must go. Miss Katovich and I have a dinner date. But do not fear, " the captain said. "My friend Aleksey here will take good care of you while we are gone. He is a real sailor and he will show you the ship. He will answer any more questions you have. And when the time comes, he will put you all to bed!" He turned to Masha, extending his elbow again. "Shall we?"
"Of course, Kapitan, with pleasure." She took his elbow. "Have fun with Aleksey, children!" Her eyes caught Dima's. He looked bewildered, probably because she was with a man. "I will see you all soon!"
They ascended a steel stairway leading back up toward the captain's stateroom. He turned to her. "What did you think of my child psychology?"
"Child psychology?"
"Telling them the sharks will eat them! Now they will not get too close to the side of the ship, and will not fall overboard! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
How will I make it through this? "Ah, you have talent as a child psychologist also."