Orlav excused himself, saying something about getting something to eat, but Kirichenko asked permission to stay. Jain could have easily booted him out of central post, but had no reason to, and he was frankly curious to see what the ex-admiral wanted.
There was still ten minutes to the first turn, with no close threatening contacts to worry about, and all preparations completed, when the Russian approached Jain. “I’ve decided where I’d like to go ashore,” he said cautiously.
Getting the Russian off his boat was such a pleasant prospect that Jain almost smiled. “What is your choice?”
“Bali,” Kirichenko answered. Jain thought it was a good choice. The island sat on the western side of the Lombok Strait, the passage that Chakra planned to use on their return trip. Dropping off this Russian would be simple. He might even let Kirichenko have a raft.
“It is acceptable,” Jain said. “Do you know if Orlav has decided?”
“I think he wants to enlist in the Indian Navy,” Kirichenko grumbled.
“That’s not going to happen,” Jain answered sternly. Orlav had redeemed himself somewhat by his labors aboard Chakra, but Jain would never forget that the man was a traitor, someone who sold his nation’s secrets for money without conscience. He might have just as easily been working for the Chinese, or anyone with coin to fill his pockets…
The quartermaster announced, “Time for the turn, sir.”
Rakash was checking the chart against the sonar display. “Two eight zero is still good, Captain.”
“Port fifteen, then. Steer course two eight zero.”
The helmsman repeated the order, and Rakash marked the chart. “Forty-two minutes until the firing point at this speed, Captain.”
Jain leaned over to study the chart. After the first weapon was fired, Chakra had a short six-hour run to the second firing point. Plenty of time to close the enable switches on tube two.
As he was double-checking the distance, he looked to his left and saw Kirichenko examining the route as well. The Russian was almost mimicking Jain’s posture. Must be the old reflexes, thought Jain.
“Mind your depth, Number One. Hopefully it matches the charts, but we won’t have much under us when we fire.”
“Mind my depth, aye, sir,” Rakash answered, and gestured to the quartermaster. They’d both keep their eye on the fathometer. They were firing in twenty-nine meters of water. It was enough, but barely.
Jain shifted his gaze back to the chart. Everything was going according to plan, and yet he still felt edgy. Something wasn’t right. What was he missing?
“It’s an easier harbor than Ningbo,” commented Kirichenko. “Much easier, and you have sufficient water depth right up to the firing point.”
The Indian skipper bristled at Kirichenko’s comments. He was, of course, correct. But that didn’t soothe Jain’s growing anxiety.
Yes, the approach to the firing point had water depths deeper than Ningbo, or even Hong Kong. But in looking at the chart, Jain saw wrecks and obstructions that reduced the water depth to less than twenty meters to the north and south of him. He felt like he was sailing into a box canyon. And the complete lack of Chinese patrols didn’t encourage him. Surely the Chinese had to know this was one of only a few approaches to Yangshan, and yet not a single PLAN vessel was in sight. It was almost as if the Chinese were intentionally avoiding the area. Sweat began to form on his brow—were they walking into a trap?
Jain hurriedly pressed an intercom switch. “Torpedo room, confirm that tubes one, three, and eight are at action state, ready to fire, and tube two is not ready.”
“Central post, tubes one, three, and eight are at action state. Tube two is secure.”
“Very well. Is Orlav there?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, send someone to find him. I want him in the bomb shop before…”
“Captain! Torpedoes in the water bearing green one four five!” Patil’s voice rang throughout the space like an alarm bell. “Two weapons! They’ve gone active! Captain, they’re American Mark 48s!”
22
ENDGAME
“Captain, own ship’s units have enabled,” reported Thigpen.
“Very well, XO,” Jerry replied. The ambush had been perfectly executed. Chakra had remained oblivious until North Dakota’s weapons had gone active. He’d initially doglegged them to the south at slow speed, and after a four-thousand-yard separation from his boat, he turned the torpedoes to their intercept course and sped up to forty knots. Chakra knew where the torpedoes were, but she would still be clueless about the whereabouts of her assailant. And that was fine with Jerry, although he took little pleasure in the flawless attack. He could almost hear Samant’s teeth grinding next to him.
Petrov had watched the skilled torpedo attack with admiration. Mitchell’s crew operated like a well-oiled machine, a tribute to Jerry’s leadership. Feeling confident, he leaned over and whispered, “I’m sure you’re aware that this will be the third Russian submarine you’ve had a hand in sinking.”
Sighing, Jerry turned to his friend and grumbled, “Yes, I know. And I really didn’t need to be reminded, Alex. It’s not something I’m proud of. Besides, this battle isn’t over. Let’s not count our chickens just yet.”
“Captain!” called out the sonar supervisor. “Possible target zig by Sierra eight seven.”
“Countermeasures! Launch decoy! Counterfire tube three! Torpedo course zero six zero, high speed, minimal enable run!” shouted Jain as he shoved Kirichenko aside. The Russian staggered back, thrown against the engineering console, shocked by the unexpected attack.
“Helmsman, port twenty, steer course one eight zero. Half ahead, make one hundred seventy-five revs,” Jain barked. “Number One, what’s the position of the wreck to the south?”
“Sir?” Rakash replied, dazed.
“Snap out of it, Number One. How far to the damn wreck!?”
“Ah, three thousand two hundred meters, bearing red zero one zero, sir.”
“Helmsman, continue left to one seven zero,” commanded Jain. Then, hitting the intercom button, “Sonar, any contact on our attacker?”
“Negative, sir. We only hold the torpedoes bearing green one four five, zero bearing rate!”
Jain swore. He had no idea where the attacking submarine was. He’d been jumped completely unawares — the mark of a professional. He didn’t have time to wonder who the American was that was attacking him, or even why. He needed to get his boat out of this birdcage and into deeper water; to flee if he could, or to maneuver if he couldn’t.
Joining his first officer at the chart table, Jain stabbed at the wreck symbol. “I’m going to get as close to the wreck as I can and then turn east. Get on the Arfa sonar and stand by to go active.”
As Rakash jumped to the mine-hunting sonar console, Jain ordered, “Helmsman, make your depth forty meters and be quick about it!” He was getting as close to the bottom as he dared.
“Torpedo in the water! Bearing two zero eight, it’s moving away from us, drawing rapidly to the left!” reported the sonar supervisor.
Jerry smiled slightly and whispered, “I’m not there, Captain.”
“Skipper, new contact bearing two one eight, drawing right. Sierra eight seven is heading south.”