For the first couple of seconds, Benton had trouble picking up anything unusual. Only as his pulse settled did he hear a muted surging sound, barely audible in the background.
The XO knew that if they were on one of the new 688class attack subs, they would merely have to feed this sound into the computer. The signature would then be analyzed and its source identified. On board the Razorback, this task had to be accomplished the oldfashioned way. Emptying his mind of everything but the unknown surging, he wracked his brain in an effort to determine what was causing it. Though he still couldn’t say for certain, the only thing that he could compare it to was the unwanted sound created by a reactor cavitation problem that he had experienced on one of his previous commands aboard a nuclear-powered Sturgeon-class attack sub.
Opening his eyes, he met the chief’s inquisitive stare and responded accordingly.
“There’s something out there, all right. It sounds like an internal, closed loop cavitation signature, emanating from a nuclear powered submarine. Most likely, they’re just sitting there hovering, thinking that we’ll merely pass them by. But we’ll show them otherwise, won’t we, gentlemen?”
The XO was in the process of picking up the comm line when Lefty Jackman called out excitedly, “Sir, I’m picking up another unidentified contact! This one lies in the northeastern quadrant, at a heading of zero-eight-zero. Relative rough range is thirty-eight thousand yards. You know, it sounds like it could be another diesel-electric!”
As this new signature was channeled into their headphones, Patrick Benton momentarily delayed his call to the control room. There was no doubt in his mind that the new sound they were now hearing was indeed the familiar drone of a battery-powered submarine.
Yet one fact immediately stood out in his mind. Since the only other two diesel-electric vessels in the U.S. Navy were in Japan, in the midst of ASW exercises, this meant that this contact had to be of foreign origin. He was most aware that any one of the two vessels they had just picked up could hold the threat that the Nose researcher had warned them of earlier. Hastily checking his watch, he saw that in another hour the Condor was due to be launched from nearby Vandenberg. With this in mind, he activated the comm line, to present their dilemma to the Captain.
Six and a half miles due east of the Razorback’s current position. Deputy Commander Bill Rose of Vandenberg’s 4392nd Security Police Group sat in the copilot’s seat of a UH-1 Huey helicopter. Presently hovering only a few hundred feet above the jagged hills that comprised Slik 6’s eastern border, the chopper had its nose pointed westward. From this position, the launch complex itself was just barely visible to the left. His attention was instead riveted straight ahead, on the desolate plain that was situated to the immediate north of the launch pad’s security perimeter.
There, a quarter of a mile from the fence itself, lay a circle of large, angular boulders. It was toward this rocky mass that his stare was centered.
The roar of the Huey’s engines sounded loudly overhead, and to compensate for it, Rose was forced to speak firmly into his chin-mounted radio transmitter.
“That’s affirmative, Colonel Lansford. The preliminary infrared helicopter scan shows a pair of mammalian life forms hidden within the circle of rocks. We’re almost certain that it’s not coming from either a bear, cougar, or any other form of wildlife.
It’s got to be human. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of deploying Strike Team Able.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” responded the crackling voice of Lansford as it emanated from the helmet mounted speakers.
“It’s urgent that you clear the area as soon as possible. Use whatever force is needed to accomplish this task at once.”
“Yes, sir,” snapped Rose.
“I’ll notify you as soon as the sector is secured.”
Switching the two-way radio’s frequency, he dialed that of Captain Tim Gener, the strike team’s leader.
A momentary crackle of static was followed by a familiar bass voice.
“This is Able Team leader, go ahead.”
Breathlessly, Rose addressed him.
“Roger, Able Team leader, this is Commander One. You are cleared to initiate housecleaning. Use whatever elbow grease is necessary.”
“I read you, Commander One. Will send in the mini-maids, over and out.”
As the helicopter inched its way over the surrounding hilltops, Rose strained to see his men in action.
Strike Team Able was his personal creation. Comprised of two dozen crack members of the 4392nd Security Police Group, the squad was created for incidents such as the one they currently faced. It appeared that this would be the first time in its two-year history that a call it was responding to was a real emergency and not a simulated one. Armed with M16’s, M79 grenade launchers, a pair of MOO machine guns, and a 90-mm. M67 recoilless rifle, the group included the base’s top marksmen. It was designed to repel an invading force in the unlikely event that such a group of terrorists were able to breach Vandenberg’s security perimeter.
Not having any idea who they could be presently facing, Rose scanned the plain that lay before him.
Because his men were dressed in camouflaged fatigues that blended into the surrounding terrain, he had to use a pair of binoculars to pick them out. They were currently deployed approximately 200 yards from the rock formation where the intruders had been spotted. Positioned in a semicircle, they covered the northern, western, and eastern perimeters. This left only the southern flank open. Rose leaned forward expectantly as a tall, lean figure stood and beckoned his men to continue their advance. Crouched low to the ground, they slowly began their way towards the circle’s axis in unison.
“Attention intruders, you are currently trespassing on a United States military installation. Please immediately stand up with your hands clearly extended over your heads!”
As this amplified warning was repeated, Grigori Yagoda returned the startled expression that he saw on his teammate’s face. This look of astonishment turned to near panic when Dmitri Andreyev poked his head up through the camouflaged netting that was spread out on top of them and took in the advancing line of troops that approached on three sides.
Ducking back down, his voice trembled.
“There’s a whole army of them out there, Grigori! Where in the world did they come from?”
“I told you not to underestimate the Americans,” retorted his blond-haired coworker coolly.
“That’s easy to say now,” returned Dmitri, who reached down to ready his weapons.
“Perhaps we’ll be able to fight our way past them.”
Grigori beckoned his teammate to calm down.
“Easy now, comrade. There is still another alternative for us to consider.”
Placing his Uzi on the ground beneath him, Grigori put on his green beret. He then pushed aside the net and stood.
“Are you going to surrender?” quizzed Dmitri, who remained crouching and watched as Grigori opened his palms and raised his hands up over his head.
Ignoring this question, Grigori climbed up onto the rock ledge and faced the line of armed soldiers, who were now some fifty yards away. Upon spotting him, they immediately froze. A single tall, lean figure broke from their ranks and spoke through a battery powered megaphone.
“Please have your accomplice join you also!”
Surprised that they knew that there were two of them present, Grigori beckoned Dmitri to join him.