The XO nodded.
A knock on the wardroom door.
“Enter.”
It was the officer in charge of the nuclear reactors. He saluted Captain Kamani and the XO with a worried look. “Captain, we are experiencing minor problems with one of the two VM-4 reactors driving the steam turbines.”
“What kind of problems?” snapped Kamani.
“The main coolant pump to the reactor in the primary circuit compartment has shown a slight reduction in velocity of water flow-through. In the secondary circuit compartment, small intermittent surges from the steam generator have slowed operation of the throttle valve into the main turbine.” Then, almost apologetically, he followed with, “We do not have a replacement pump and we cannot shut down steam flow to repair the throttle without serious loss of power for a number of days. No guarantee could be given that repairs would be successful, even if we could. If not corrected, it could become a serious problem.”
“In the name of Allah!” exclaimed the captain. “Are you telling me we have come all this way and may fail because of a faulty coolant pump?”
The officer nodded nervously. All three were well aware that Russian nuclear submarine propulsion systems had a history of breaking down with disastrous consequences. He replied, shedding his nervousness, “These faults may not get worse, Captain, at least until the mission is completed.”
“Could it fail completely at any time?” shot Kamani.
“Yes. However, we could continue with only one turbine working, but should the pump fail altogether, we would face a reactor meltdown.”
“Captain,” said Zaha urgently. “We must make a decision now – either to continue on at our slow rate and hope nothing happens or speed up and risk the consequences.”
“Russian junk!” spat Kamani. This was a complication he had not really expected and did not need. Too many Russian submarines had gone down from reactor failures and he found it hard to accept that everything now rested on the performance of a single pump. They had come a long way and were so near to fulfilling Islam’s greatest blow against the infidel. A meltdown, however, would certainly prevent him from fulfilling the glorious will of Allah. Less so, he reasoned, if they could reach the release coordinates as quickly as they dared. He made his decision. “We will increase speed,” he said sharply to the XO. “Progressively recalibrate the coordinates as we go for release of the missile any time from now on.”
All three left the wardroom, the reactor officer returning to the problem and Kamani back on the control deck with his XO. Here the captain ordered the helmsman, “Maintain course. Make your depth 600 feet. Make your speed twelve knots.”
43
“Captain – sonar. Faint trace, sir. Too weak to translate.”
Captain Denko shot a worried look at his XO, then at the tracking screen.
“Captain, aye. Come right ten. Resolve ambiguity.”
K267 veered right 10 degrees to give her towed array a better look to confirm contact bearing and characteristics.
A short while later, sonar reported, “Captain – sonar. Contact confirmed, bearing two-seven-zero. Range twenty-five miles. Speed twelve knots. Checking profile.”
“Captain, aye.”
“The same boat?” asked Lieutenant Nanovich with a frown.
“My guess: no,” replied Denko. “Too far ahead, but at least we have some warning this time.” He worried where the attacker might be now, reasoning the last attack had come from the port quarter, meaning that if the attacker were a submarine and not a surface ship, it would need to have travelled at a fair speed to now be ahead, in which case sonar would not have failed to pick it up. No, this had to be a new hostile.
“Captain – sonar. Profile complete: engine lines, Delta III, K449.”
A stunned silence, then, “We’ve got her, Sergio! We’ve got her!” Denko could not hide his jubilance, slapping the XO on the back, rejoicing in the fact that his theory had proven right after all.
“Twelve knots, she’s in a hurry,” Nanovich replied. “Big speed. Why come all this way and not remain silent below eight?”
The captain shrugged. “Any number of reasons: crew problems, food shortage, mechanical, eager to reach the target…”
“Or commit suicide,” Nanovich joked.
“Why such a risk in these hostile waters? Anyway, we’ve got her now.”
“Maybe we should just follow and wait until she’s accomplished whatever she came here to do – give the Americans what they deserve.”
“As much as I would like that to happen, Sergio, we have our orders and we will carry them out.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Contact now bearing three-two-nine. Range twenty miles,” sonar reported.
Denko looked at the chart. “She’s turned north along the Navidad Bank. We’ll close to ten miles, then take her. Prepare for action. Prepare tubes two and four. Prepare tracking and firing solutions. He turned to the helm. “Steer three-two-five. Maintain depth. Increase speed to ten knots.”
44
“Contact, designate, Sierra Ten. Submerged, bearing three-four-five. Range forty-five miles. Faint. Awaiting translation.”
Both Captain Curtis and his XO looked up sharply from their consuls in Ambush’s control centre.
“Captain, aye. Maintain and hold track. Resolve ambiguity,” Curtis shot back.
“The Akula again?” Talbot asked.
“Doubt it; too far away.”
Seconds later, “Captain – sonar. Translation confirmed; Delta III. Speed twelve knots. Range and bearing unchanged.”
The two men stared incredulously at one another; Curtis’s excitement grew; his perseverance had paid off. Talbot was surprised and feeling a little guilty for doubting his captain.
“Yessss!” hissed Curtis. “At last!”
“You were right all along, Mike. Well done!”
“She’s playing a risky game barrelling along at twelve knots; something’s not right. You just don’t do that speed in hostile waters, especially a Delta.” Curtis glanced at the tracking screens, then back at Talbot. “Advise COMSUBOP we’ve located K449 and will be engaging. It’s clear from her course she’s heading northwest up the Bahama chain. If we fail to nail her, Command will make sure the Americans are in line to finish the job.”
“Including the Akula?”
“My guess: yes. The Russians would want to vindicate themselves from selling the sub to terrorists. However, we must remain vigilant. I suspect the powers that be do not trust them; it could well be the Akula they sold and not the Delta.”
“Well, Mike – we now have two hostiles out there in that case, so we’d better go get’em.”
Captain Curtis smiled tensely at Talbot, then ordered the helm to increase speed from ten to fifteen knots and a course change that would bring them up behind K449. At fifteen knots, HMS Ambush’s advanced propulsion system, anechoic hull coatings and isolated deck structures gave her a very low acoustic signature, which even at that speed made the warship difficult for sonar to detect. When within fifteen nautical miles of the target, Curtis would strike.
45
The three submarines left the Puerto Rico Trench and made their way up past the Navidad Bank in a northwesterly direction in 13,000 feet of water. They were all at the same depth of around 400 feet. In the leading submarine, K449, Asad Kamani, the captain; Ali bin Rashid, the al-Qaeda negotiator; Lieutenant Hamid Zaha, K449’s XO; and Captain Javad Moradi of the Maru Blue were holding an emergency meeting in the submarine’s wardroom, totally unaware of the other two submarines following and closing for the kill.