Kurshin wanted to kill him, but at this moment it simply wasn’t practical. He needed the captain to set the boat on its final dive, and he needed the cooperation of Makayev’s missile man. “You’re correct, of course” Kurshin said with an apologetic smile. He shook his head. “It’s just that … it’s the enormity of the thing. I wasn’t thinking straight” Makayev seemed relieved that he wasn’t going to have to fight about the issue. “I know, it’s gotten to all of us”
“I’m sorry about Dr. Veranov”
“He was affected most of all” Makayev said, softening even more. “But there was nothing else to be done, Arkasha. He could have killed us all”
Kurshin’s jaw tightened. No one on this earth had ever called him Arkasha except for Baranov. No one. It was everything he could do not to kill this bastard here and now. But again he forced a tired smile. “I appreciate Your understanding, Niki. I really do”
“Just so, II makayev said. “The lockout chamber has been recycled and is ready for us”
“Yes”
“Good. Go forward then and fill up your suit. We won’t have much time to get free of the boat before she accelerates to a dangerous speed, She could drag us down with her. II Kurshm hesitated, searching the other man’s eyes for some hidden purpose. But with Makayev, he suspected, what you saw was what you got. It was why he was always in trouble. He did not know how to play the political game so important for survival in the Soviet Union. He did not know how to hide his true feelings, his real intent. “Don’t be long”
“I won’t be, believe me”
The five-man lockout chamber was just forward of the conning tower.
Kurshin had donned his hooded emersion suit and had filled it with compressed air which would give him enough buoyancy and breathing air to reach the surface. Suddenly the Indianapolis shuddered and began to move at a down angle.
A few seconds later Makayev showed up on the run, and Kurshin helped him with his suit, filling it with air even as the captain was closing the lower hatch, and seawater began to rise above their knees.
The boat was already going very fast by the time the pressure inside the lockout chamber had been equalized and the outer hatch opened. Kurshin was about to suggest they slow the boat down when Makayev bodily shoved him out the hatch. The burbling water slammed his body up against the conning tower, and then he was tumbling end over end with absolutely no idea which way was up. Something grabbed at his left arm, and he looked down as the submarine slid below them, the prop wash again tumbling him end over end.
Makayev was beside and slightly above him, and gradually Kurshin realized that they were rising toward the surface, and he had to remember to force himself to breathe regularly lest he get an embolism m his lungs. He raised his head to look up, but couldn’t see anything at first. The water all around them was pitch-black. Gradually ‘ however, he was able to see a dark bulk off to the left. It would be the hull of the Stephos. And then they were on the surface, only a light chop bobbing them in the waves. Kurshin pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and flashed it twice. Immediately they could hear the sound of a small outboard motor, as a rubber raft headed toward them. He yanked his hood off and breathed deeply of the fresh night air, the smells of the sea and the nearby Greek coast pure and wonderful after the confinement of the submarine. Makayev had pulled off his hood and he swam over to Kurshin. “That was very close” he said. Kurshin looked at him. “I suppose you saved my life” Makayev said nothing. “Thank you, Comrade”
Kurshin said as he thought about when the time would be best to kill the man.
Fifty miles southwest of the island of Crete, the attack submarine Baton Rouge was in her drift mode on a heading of two-six-five, submerged at three hundred feet beneath the surface. Far to the north, in the Aegean, her sister boat the USS Phoenix was keeping close tabs on the approaches to the Dardanelles. They had been taking part in OPERATION LOOKUP with the CVN Nimitz when they had received orders to search for the Indianapolis. At all costs, their orders had specified, the Indianapolis was not to be allowed anywhere near the Dardanelles. “Top priority is communications. If the Indianapolis does not respond, and if she continues to make an attempt to reach the Black Sea, she is to be considered hostile, and is to be killed” commander Richard Keyser had surfaced his boat for clarification, and when it had come his orders had seemed no less incredible than before.
He knew JD. Webb. They were friends. If JD. was attempting to steal his boat, there was a gun pointed at his head. Or he was dead. Keyser would have bet anything on it.
A few minutes earlier their sonar had picked up what very Possibly was a submarine far off to their south. They had run at high speed for five minutes, and then had shut down to drift again.
“Conn, sonar” the comms speaker blared. “Conn, aye” Keyser said. “I have a definite fix on that target. Range eight thousand meters, bearing thin-six-zero. It’s changing left to right. I I The other submarine was directly ahead of them and was moving almost due south. “Is it the Indianapolis, Randy” The comms was silent for a beat. “Yes, Skipper, I’d be willing to bet anything on it, unless there is another Los Angeles-class boat in the area. “NO” Keyser said. “No chance it’s Russian”
“Not a chance, Skipper. She’s definitely an LA. class”
“What’s she doing”
“That’s the part that threw me at first. She’s not making more than ten knots, but she’s diving, on a constant angle. “How deep”
“Sir, a thousand feet … belay that. She’s passing eleven hundred feet now, and the angle of her dive has increased. I I Keyser looked at his exec at the chart table across the control room. “What’s it look like, Dean? Are they heading for the bottom”
“Just about ten thousand feet here, Skipper. But they’ve probably picked us up; they may be trying to duck under a diermocline”
“Then we’re going after her. Give me turns for full speed” Keyser turned back to the comms. “Sonar, keep a sharp watch, I want to know when she levels out”
“She’s still going down, Skipper”
“She’ll level off. She has to” The Baton Rouge accelerated smoothly, the angle on her planes down five degrees as she turned on an intercept course. The Los Angeles-class boats had a service depth of around fifteen hundred feet, though they were considered reasonably safe a few hundred feet deeper than that. It had always been one of their problems whenever they came up against the Russian Alfa-class boats that were constructed of welded titanium. The Alfas were not only faster, they could dive to nearly three thousand feet. Keyser hit the comms switch three minutes later as the Baton Rouge began to level off at one thousand feet. “Sonar, conn. I I “Sonar, aye. “What’s she doing”
“Skipper, she’s passed eighteen hundred feet and her angle hasn’t changed. I’m starting to pick up hull compression noises”
“Christ” Keyser swore. “Go active, ping him once, Randy, let him know we’re, here”
“Aye” Chief Petty Officer Randy Sparkman replied. Monts later they all heard the single pong. MAnything” Keyser radioed. “Negative. I’m getting more hull compression noises. Skipper, she’s just passed two thousand feet. I think … wait Keyser turned on his heel and hurried aft to the sonar control center. Sparkman looked up and shook his head.
“She’s breaking up, Skipper” Keyser donned a set of headphones. It took him a moment or two to sort out just what it was he was hearing. But it was there. The Indianapolis was definitely breaking up. “Give me another range and bearing” Sparkman hit the active sonar, the pong reverberating throughout the boat. “It’s a scattered target, Skipper.