'Roger 864,' Rollo acknowledged. The Sea Kings would have to quit at eight, but by then they would have been relieved, if this was to be a major effort. Rollo had passed 864 all the data she needed.
'Roger 491. Many thanks. We're ready to dip as soon as you're clear.'
'Okay. We'll clear right.'
At that moment, Hob saw them, the first of the flashing red lights winking in the night sky. The Sea Kings were dashing in from above his port side; he could see the flame from their engines.
'Clear right,' Rollo shouted. And so Hob lifted Perdix and soared for height. As he was reaching six hundred feet, his HCO cut in from Icarus: ' Carry out fresh radar/visual search, fifteen miles due west.' The grid reference was passed, and then Hob recognized the captain's voice:
'491 — act as longstop until your Charlie time. Operate, in concert with the Big Dippers, keeping fifteen miles ahead of them. Understood?'
'Roger, sir.'
'Out.'
On their way to their new datum position, Hob heard 864, coming in loud and clear:
'Hell… he's altering. New heading confirmed 210°.'
The Sea Kings were hot and hanging on remorselessly. The contact was confirmed as a Charlie II, a nuclear fleet submarine armed with eight SSN 7 cruise missiles, weapons which had a range of thirty miles. With eight 21-inch torpedoes, and with cruise missiles which they could launch while the submarine was submerged, the Charlie us were a formidable challenge to any surface force — which was presumably why they were deployed in the Mediterranean to cover the American Sixth Fleet. The nuke must have picked up the Sea King's active transmissions from out of the blue, after steaming for hours since passing through the Straits. Submariners disliked helicopters — they were unpredictable.
'Three minutes, Hob.'
'Roger.'
At 0456, having dropped from six hundred to two hundred feet, Perdix began her second search. Methodically she crisscrossed the square, Rollo glued to his Sea Spray radar. Hob, with little to do, was relaxing and listening to the chat from the Sea Kings. Perdix had twenty-six minutes remaining before her Charlie time. The HCO was cutting in:
'491 — Bravo One leaving the Force,' he said. 'Joining you and Big Dippers.'
'Roger.' Rollo looked up, a weary grin on his face. ' I knew they couldn't keep their fingers out,' he said. 'But it'll be nice to have her around with all this talent about.'
'Increases our Charlie time,' Hob said.
'Ain't much use,' Rollo said, switching off the external loop. ' The Sea Kings have all the fun, now the sub is heading southwest.'
'She might double back.' Hob was beginning to feel the strain, now that the pressure had eased. Black clouds were building up from the west and the wind was getting up with the dawn; below him, the first white horses were breaking, flurries of foam speckling the dark surface of the sea where the first wavelets broke. There had been a long silence from Rollo and Hob turned to see how he was getting on. The observer was crouched low over his plot, his eyes were fixed on the radar. Suddenly his back stiffened.
'Christopher!' he shouted suddenly. 'Hob! That was an echo. There… again!' He tensed, re-tuning.
'Riser… it's fading… Alter left to heading two-zcro-zero. See anything?'
Hob felt the hairs prickling at the back of his neck, as he pulled Perdix round. He strained his eyes, peering down at the dark surface. ' On heading two-zero-zero,' he reported.
Then Rollo picked up the echo again:
'Riser confirmed!' he shouted. ' Just like the other, Hob…' and he switched to the Sea Kings' frequency.
As he frantically prepared to drop the first of the ASRBS he began passing his enemy report back to the HCO. Minutes later, Rollo had laid his pattern, and up came the contact: firm.
'864. Contact confirmed and hot,' he reported, trying to conceal the excitement in his voice: ' We're holding her.'
'Roger 491.'
But then Rollo was unable to keep the amazement from his voice as he passed his amplifying report: ' Probable nuke contact position grid two nine decimal two; five three decimal eight. Refining… out.' He worked feverishly to localize again, to classify, plot and report.
At 0517, nine minutes before Charlie time, Rollo confirmed the contact: another fast nuke, her signature indicating a Victor II, the fastest submarine in the world. It was pointless for Icarus to try and chase her.
'Return to mother,' the HCO ordered. 'Two Sea Kings are being diverted. 864 will take over your contact until their arrival.'
Rollo handed over the contact to 864 on the common loop, but Hob had to break away before the Sea Kings could be sighted.
Captain Trevellion was on the flight deck to greet them when Hob finally put Perdix neatly on the grid. The harpoon banged home and they clambered from the cockpit as soon as the handlers had her lashed. The tall figure ranged towards them.
'We seem to be redundant with you lot around,' he said, grinning. '864's tailing your Victor II. We're rejoining the screen, now that I've got my main armament back. Come up to my cabin a moment.'
Hob struggled with his bone dome. Minutes later, still in his overalls, he was ensconced in one of the captain's chairs, Rollo in the other.
'I've news for you both,' he said. 'While you've been away swanning, I've announced to the ship's company that the country is now at State Three and that a Period of Tension exists. Their Lordships must have suspected something — and now our nuke reports will certainly give them food for thought. We'll be breaking off " Clear Lane " to maintain contact and to report any Soviet forces.' Trevellion fixed them both with his level gaze:
'I'll be conserving Perdix and your hours as much as I can, but arm your torpedoes with warheads immediately.' He twitched a half smile. ' Whether we still get our Christmas leave depends on the Soviets.'
Hob caught Rollo's eye. It was already Tuesday morning and the ship was due back in Plymouth on Friday, 21 December.
12
It was with a sigh of relief that Vice-Admiral Peter Hawke reached the calm of his office. The Second Sea Lord sensed a strange unease, a foreboding that today might be a landmark, not only in his life, but in that of the nation.
That morning, Hawke had been forced to attend the Combined Procurement Meeting with the senior civil servants because Andy Kemp, who had only recently taken over his new appointment as Controller to the Navy, needed support for this vital meeting. The army and RAF were also batting their First Eleven: the buzz was circulating that the Treasury was putting the screws on their executives again; once more the Services were having to fight for every farthing.
Hawke had known Andy, now Admiral Sir Andrew Kemp, KCB, FBIM, for a long time, but never had he seen him so worked up, white with rage after the blistering attack which he and the other service officers had launched. It was left to the Air Vice-Marshal to deliver the annihilating blow — but Andy had wished the honour could have fallen to him.
Andy had batted first. There were several important developments coming forward, improvements on existing weapons and the furtherance of vital countermeasures against hardware which the Soviets were now producing in quantity — in particular, the laser developments and improvements to the Sea Harrier concept by using container ships, as MAC ships were used in World War II.