“Sir, we hold passive contact on the submarine,” Burkeet said.
“Range and bearing?”
“Bearing is one-seven-zero, sir. No range, but the bearing appears to be constant. He has to be close.”
“Then he has either returned to his original course of two-two-zero and we are paralleling him, or worst case is we could be on a collision course with him. That is his true bearing, right?”
Burkeet nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“What is going on?” Bocharkov shouted.
“We have the wire going out, sir!” Ignatova shouted from the Christmas tree panel near the firing control.
“Orlov! What the hell—”
“I have given no order, Captain!”
“XO, Chief Ship Starshina Uvarova! Lay forward and tell the communicator to reel in that wire. If I have to make quick turns to avoid the Americans, we are going to wrap that wire around our shaft and blades!”
Ignatova was right behind Uvarova at the hatch as the two men raced toward the communications compartment.
“What is he thinking?” Bocharkov muttered, referring to Vyshinsky, his young — and now dumb — communicator. “Commander Orlov! Keep us steady on this course and speed.”
“Sir,” Tverdokhleb said. “We are approaching the seventy-five-meter depth.”
“You sure?” Orlov asked.
“How can I be sure?” Tverdokhleb snapped. “We have been shifting and speeding up and speeding down.” Then with a sigh, he continued, “Captain, I think we are over the seventy-five-meter depth, but I would give it another couple of minutes at four knots to be sure.”
“Lieutenant Commander Orlov, make your depth fifty meters.” He didn’t have time to wait. “Take her down easy and keep us on this course.”
“Make my depth fifty meters, aye. Take her down easy. Planes ten degrees!”
The planesman pulled the hydraulics control handles back. The sound of water filling the surrounding ballasts barely registered through the thick double hull of the Echo submarine. Bocharkov knew the Americans would hear the noise, but if they missed the sounds of trailing the communications wire, then they sure as hell wouldn’t hear the ballast tanks. He had to get water over them. He had to escape.
“What are you doing out here?” Ignatova demanded when he saw Lieutenant Vyshinsky standing in the passageway outside of Communications. And why in the hell were the two communications starshinas out here with him?
“Sir, the zampolits ordered us out.” Vyshinsky and the two sailors were standing at attention, their backs pressed against the far bulkhead across from the communications compartment.
“Zampolits? You mean Mr. Golovastov?”
“Yes, sir. He was with the other zampolit, Lieutenant Dolinski. They said they had Party business and we were to leave while they answered Moscow.”
Ignatova wanted to slap the officer. He turned toward the hatch. “Are they the ones reeling out the wire or did you—”
“No, sir! I told them not to,” the senior starshina answered sharply. “I was ordered not to inform the conn.”
Ignatova spun the handle, opening the hatch to the communications compartment. He stepped inside, Uvarova immediately behind him. Vyshinsky followed. The two sailors stayed in the passageway, peering inside.
“What are you doing?” Ignatova shouted.
Dolinski calmly turned. Golovastov stepped to the left of the GRU Spetsnaz, his eyes switching between Ignatova and Dolinski.
“Captain Second Rank Ignatova,” Dolinski said. “We have a message from Moscow that must be replied to—”
“And it will be, Lieutenant!” Ignatova looked at the two men. “Why did you order the communicator away from his battle station? And who decided to reel out the wire without orders from the captain?” Without waiting for a reply, he stepped between the two officers and switched off the system. The whine of the hydraulics tapered off.
“Don’t do that, comrade,” Dolinski said, his voice threatening.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ignatova said, not deigning to look at the junior officer. “You two have endangered the boat when we are engaged in hostile actions. When we return to Kamchatka, you will be charged—”
“We will be charged with upholding the power of the Party by recognizing you and Bocharkov as counterrevolutionists!” Dolinski interrupted.
Ignatova flipped the switch the other way. The small engine whined into life. The gauge above the switch showed that the wire was rewinding. “When we get there, we will let the navy determine who has done the most damage.”
Dolinski guffawed. “You and your comrade captain have done the damage. And it will not be the navy who will determine it. Now, step away from the antenna, comrade, or I will be forced to hurt you.”
Ignatova turned. Dolinski was less that a foot from him, causing the XO to step back, his back coming up against the panel behind him. “Do not threaten me, Lieutenant. That is mutiny.” The fact that he was facing a Spetsnaz-trained killer was not lost on Ignatova.
“No, Comrade Captain Second Rank. This is not mutiny. It is reclaiming the boat for the Soviet Union.”
“Who gave you the idea that you could determine what is good for the Party and what is good for the Soviet Union?”
Dolinski looked at Golovastov. “We did. We two zampolits have decided that what is happening on board the K-122 is anticommunism. That is our job. To do the Party-political training and guide fellow comrades toward the values of communism and the importance of the Party.”
“And this is going to allow the K-122 to escape from the Americans? You are—”
Dolinski reached forward and grabbed Ignatova.
Dolinski never saw the blow coming. The fire extinguisher hit him on the back of the head. The GRU Spetsnaz collapsed in a heap on the deck. Uvarova stood over the lieutenant.
Ignatova and Uvarova looked at each other. Golovastov fell back several steps until the bulkhead stopped him.
“My apologies, XO,” Uvarova said. “I did not mean to hit the good officer. In the Party-political training provided this voyage by Lieutenant Golovastov, he cautioned us that we should always be alert for those who espoused the Party’s ideals for their own ambition.” He looked at Golovastov. “Thank you, comrade, for your tutelage.”
The equivalent to a United States Navy master chief, Uvarova hefted the fire extinguisher and chuckled. “Must have slipped.”
“Get the master of arms down here, Chief Ship Starshina Uvarova.” Ignatova turned back to the panel. “Lieutenant Vyshinsky, get your ass back in here and re-man your battle stations.”
Then, as an afterthought, Ignatova added, “And contact the doctor to hasten to Communications if he is not busy.”
“Lieutenant Golovastov, you are confined to your stateroom until further notice. Do you understand?”
Golovastov nodded quickly. “Yes, Comrade XO.” He looked down at Dolinski. “And the lieutenant?”
“From the looks of the chief of the boat’s following of your orders, Dolinski will be in the hospital for a while. I will point out that he acted under your orders.”
“But, sir…”
“Get your ass out of here, Lieutenant!”
On the gray deck of Communications, a small of pool of blood was growing beneath the GRU Spetsnaz’s head. The man’s chest moved, so he was not dead, which was good.
FIFTEEN
“He was making a lot of noise,” Stalzer said from beneath his earphones.