“Couldn’t those torpedoes be the ones found outside of Gepard?”
“No, sir. Those would be intact. In this case, the weapons were in pieces. The largest were of the propulsion section, and is consistent with a warhead that had detonated. As much as I want to blame the Americans for her loss, they may not be at fault.”
Mishin shifted to English and said, “For all this time, the families of those seventy-three men have grieved, ignorant of the reasons behind her loss. It’s hard to accept that it was simply ‘bad luck.’”
“Although I’ve omitted many details, my summary is complete. Memphis made no attempt to sink your submarine, only to escape. My crew and I have always regretted being involved in any way, even unwillingly, in Gepard’s loss. They were our adversaries, but also submariners, and we understood the risks they took.”
Lloyd spoke up. “Gepard’s captain fired not just one, or two, but three salvoes of torpedoes at Memphis in rapid succession. Did he act on his own? Does a Russian submarine commander have that kind of authority?” He was looking straight at Vaslev, but Mishin answered the question.
“After the incident, Admiral Yuri Kirichenko, the Northern Fleet commander, was court-martialed for ordering the pursuit, and was judged responsible for Gepard’s loss.”
The ambassador felt a flash of irritation with his naval attaché, but understood his desire to protect the reputation of a fellow submarine officer. And it wasn’t classified information. The findings of the court had been given a lot of coverage in the press. “Captain First Rank Mishin is correct,” he said.
“Based on the actions of your navy, we had to assume that the warheads had been deliberately hidden by the Russian government, and decided not to make the matter public, or bring it to the attention of Russian officials, without finding out more information. To date, our investigations have been completely unsuccessful, because every clue we have led straight into Russia.”
Vaslev reasoned, “So if there had never been an explosion in Kashmir, you never would have told us.”
“Never is a long time, Mr. Ambassador, but no, we would not be having this meeting now.”
The ambassador sighed. “This will be a long report to Moscow. Courtesy requires me to thank you for sharing this information with us, but only time will tell if I should be grateful.”
Lloyd said, “I’d like to arrange a time for a follow-up meeting, so that we can learn what you have found out. That will likely assist our investigations.”
Vaslev sounded uncertain. “Perhaps in a week or so…”
“There could be another explosion at any time, Mr. Ambassador. I was thinking more like forty-eight hours.”
“Please, Mr. Secretary. I am sure that after they read my report, I will be recalled for consultations. Once I get them to understand that this is not a joke, it will trigger vigorous debate, and then investigations. Certainly my government will make no major decision until they have a better understanding of the situation.”
Lloyd pressed his point. “We cannot know what is happening right now. I must insist that any information you discover be shared with my government immediately. We are willing to keep this matter private for the time being, but only as long as it assists your investigation.”
The meeting ended, and the ambassador shook hands with Lloyd; then Ron Davis handed Vaslev a bundle of documents. A little to one side, Hardy shook hands with Mishin, and they exchanged a few words. Lloyd was curious, but wouldn’t ask. If there was anything Hardy needed to share, the senator would tell them.
Vice President Randall left immediately after that, thanking the other three for their good work.
Before Hardy left, Lloyd asked him, “Ready for that ambassadorship yet?”
The submariner quickly shook his head. “Irate voters are enough for me. But why did you invite Zykov? Mishin made sense, considering the topic. But why the SVR station chief?”
“Because Vaslev and the political leadership may know nothing about the barge,” Lloyd answered. “The three of them represented the major power blocks in Russia: political, military, and intelligence.” Lloyd shrugged. “All three now know what we know. One of those groups has to know something. And in the meantime, we can work with what we have: the name ‘Evgeni Orlav.’”
6
RUDE AWAKENINGS
The captain paced impatiently on the starboard bridge wing, waiting for the “important officials” the Rosatom main office said were coming. The morning air was crisp, with a light fog on the water, but the sun looked like it would burn through the morning haze in no time. Not a bad day to go to sea, he thought. He just wanted to know why he had to drop everything and prepare his icebreaker for immediate departure. The engineers were working frantically to bring the ship’s two reactors critical, and the main office had already arranged for the provisions Victory would need. Whatever it was, it must be damn important to get Rosatom moving that fast.
His sharp eyes caught the black car as it raced down the pier access road. The car braked hard, coming to an abrupt stop by the ship. His first mate, Timur Markov, opened the door, and two Russian naval officers emerged. Without waiting for Markov, they walked quickly toward the gangplank. “Hmmm,” the captain said softly. “A vice admiral and a senior captain, and in such a rush, this could be most interesting.”
Victory’s master went back into the bridge and prepared to receive his guests. On the chart table were a carafe of hot tea, cups, and a small platter with some biscuits — good, everything was in order. Straightening his sweater, he waited by the ship’s wheel. It was only a couple of minutes later when the door popped open; Markov directed the two naval officers onto the bridge and introduced them to his master.
“Captain, this is Vice Admiral Ivan Loktev, Deputy Commander of the Russian Northern Fleet, and Captain First Rank Viktor Zhikin, Commanding Officer of the 328th Expeditionary Rescue Squad. Admiral, Captain, Captain Yefim Sergievich Gribov, master of the icebreaker 50 Years of Victory.”
“Admiral, Captain, welcome to Victory. May I offer you some tea? Biscuits?”
“Thank you, Comrade Captain,” replied Loktev hastily. “Perhaps later, but time is of primary importance. What is the status of your preparations for getting under way?”
Gribov wasn’t surprised by the admiral’s response, particularly after Gribov heard that the head of the Northern Fleet’s rescue divers was with him. “Admiral, my chief engineer is almost done with the reactor startup checklist. We should be ready to answer all bells within five or six hours. Provisions have already been ordered by Rosatom, and once they arrive my crew can have them loaded in a few hours. All I need to know is how many passengers I’m embarking, and where we are going.”
Loktev’s strained expression eased a little. Motioning to Zhikin, the captain broke out a chart and spread it on the table. Pointing to a spot on the northeast side of Novaya Zemlya, Loktev said, “We need to get Captain Zhikin’s divers to Techeniye Guba as quickly as possible.”