it’s not like driving a car. Running a boat of that size takes a well-trained, experienced crew” Lieutenant Newman had said.
Baranov was a man who left nothing to chance. And Kurshin was good. The very best. They were not stealing the boat, trying to get it into the Black Sea. They only wanted one of the missiles. The target was En Gedi.
He ran his finger north along the chart from the position where the Indianapolis went down, and suddenly it came to him.
Trotter had been watching him. “What is it, Kirk” McGarvey looked up” Kurshin is not on that submarine” he said. Delugio and the others were looking at him. “They killed the crew and took the boat here, to the Gulf of Lakonia or the Bay of Messini where they hid on the bottom for twelve hours or so”
“Why? What are you saying” Trotter asked. “Kurshin wanted one of the Tomahawk missiles. It’s my guess they shoved it out a torpedo hatch, set the submarine on a southerly course, with a down angle on her planes, and got out through an escape hatch, Is that possible” Admiral Delugio was nodding. “But why”
“Could a Tomahawk be launched from the deck of a surface ship”
“Yes ” Delugio started to say, but then he had it too. “Christ. They had a mother ship waiting for them. They’ll launch the missile and then get the hell out of there”
“Not off the Greek coast” Megarvey said. “They’re heading east”
“Where” Trotter asked. “Someplace where they have friends. They’re not out to commit suicide. They want to launch that missile … on En Gedi … and then have the chance to get away” McGarvey was studying the chart.
“Syria or Lebanon would be my guess” They can’t have
“That’s a long ways across open water. mad, et it yet” Ainslie said, his eyes bright.
Onight” McGarvey replied. “They’ll launch sometime after dark”
“Then we’ve got them” Ainslie blurted. “It’s not so easy to hide a missile that size. And they’ll need launching equipment. A ramp”
“It’ll be hidden. Have we any satellites watching this end of the Mediterranean”
“I don’t know” Delugio barked. “But we’ll damned well find out”
“We’re looking for any boat big enough to handle the missile, heading east” McGarvey said. “There’s a lot of traffic out there” the admiral said, “some of it Russian Navy”
“The missile won’t be aboard a Soviet ship. The Russian Navy has nothing to do with this. It’ll be a civilian ship. Something that moves fast, something that would not be challenged … something completely unrely”
“We don’t have the ships to check every vessel. Too much water out there, McGarvey” the admiral said. “Bring me the pictures. I’ll know it when I see it”
“I’ll talk to Murphy” Trotter said. “The Israelis will have to be notified”
“Yes” McGarvey said, again looking down at the chart. “The problem is going to be approaching that boat. If we get too close, he just may say the hell with it and launch the missile anyway”
“What the hell sort of a bastard is he” Delugio snarled. “I don’t know yet” McGarvey said. “But I’m learning. He looked up. “Get those pictures”
They had reached the western coast of Cyprus by early afternoon, and Captain Grechko had slowed the boat down, bringing her off her hydrofoils so that she operated as a conventional craft. In this mode she was capable of speeds around twenty knots, but they would still reach their launch position off the Syrian coast sometime around eleven, giving them plenty of time to set up for the shoot and get free. The motion aboard was not so comfortable now as it had been before. The Stephos tended to wallow at times in the heavy swells coming from the southwest across the entire fetch of the Mediterranean, but no one was complaining; in less than twelve hours they would be on their way home.
Kurshin had taken over the captain’s cabin and after their Ai meeting this morning he had managed to get several hours of deep dreamless sleep so that when he rose a few minutes after three he was fully rested. He stood in the middle of the room, his head cocked, listening to the sounds of the ship. Grechko had brought four KGB crewmen with him: an engineer, a loadmaster, and the two divers who had located the missile and had placed the collar around it. With Captain Makayev and his four-man crew, it made ten men aboard besides Kurshin. Except for Grechko and his engineer, the others were resting. It had been a long two days and nights. Kurshin picked up the phone and called the bridge.
Grechko answered. “How does it look, Ivan Akhminovich”
“We’ve got Cape Kormakiti off our starboard now, about fifteen kilometers”
“We’re on schedule”
“Of course” Grechko said. “We’ll round Cape Andreas after dark.
Everything is going as you wished, Comrade Colonel” Kurshin heard a hesitancy in the man’s voice. “Yes, what is it”
“It’s your submarine drivers. Makayev and the others have been huddled together since before noon. I don’t like the smell of it”
“I’ll take care of it” Kurshin said. He had been expecting trouble from Makayev.
“I’m coming down, we’ll talk about it Grechko started to say, but Kurshin cut him off. “No. I’ll be topside in a minute. I want to check the missile. When I’m finished we’ll have our little chat”
“As you wish”
“Yes” Kurshin replied, and he hung up. He stood beside the desk for a moment or two deciding on his options, and on the timing of his moves.
Grechko was an ambitious man; he would go along with whatever happened.
Makayev, however, was the weak link. Without his cooperation his missile man, Lieutenant Chobotov, would refuse to do what was necessary to ready the missile for launch.
Now was the time to resolve that issue and get ready for his ultimate solution. He strapped on his shoulder holster and checked to make certain that his Graz Buyra was ready to fire, then went across the cabin to where he had stuffed his emersion suit in a locker. Pulling it out, he unzippered one of the leg pockets and withdrew the slender cylinder of Labun nerve gas, with its timing device attached to the release valve. Two had been used aboard the Zenzero, and four aboard the Indianapolis. Neither Russian crew had bothered to count. It was their mistake. Handling the deadly cylinder with extreme care, Kurshin removed the safety seal from the valve, checked his watch again and set the timer for eight hours. Pulling the four life jackets from a locker over the door, he gingerly put the cylinder inside and replaced the life jackets. Before he left the cabin he looked around. At a few minutes after eleven this evening, this place would become a killing chamber. He nodded in silent satisfaction, and a smile crossed his features as he stepped out into the corridor and went topside. On the foredeck, Kurshin ducked beneath the false crates into the space where the Tomahawk lay cradled in its launch ramp. Electric motors tied now to the ship’s power system would raise the ramp to an elevation of twenty degrees, plenty to assure a good launch. Everything was in readiness except for the setting of the timing and firing circuitry, which only Lieutenant Chobotov was capable of doing. Back out on deck, he looked toward the south where the mountains of the big island of Cyprus rose up in the hazefilled distance. So close now, he thought. And when it was finished he would not only have Baranov’s gratitude, he would have the man’s patronage …
with that, anything was possible. Absolutely anything. Grechko was alone on the bridge when Kurshin went up. The ship was being steered by an autohelm unit, her course and position determined by satellite navigation equipment. “Are they still below” Kurshin asked, closing the door.
Grechko nodded. “Rimyans is watching them” Rimyans was one of the divers. “Are your people armed” Again Grechko nodded. “Are you expecting trouble over this thing”