“Raise the radio mast,” he said.
An enlisted man seated at a control console touched a screen, and Volkov heard hydraulic valves clunk over his head. A red light from the transceiver box signaled his connectivity with a nearby ship that relayed his voice to the Black Sea Fleet headquarters.
“Wolf Den, this is Wolf One. Over.”
An amplified voice issued from the transceiver.
“Wolf One, this is Wolf Den. Over.”
“Wolf Den, Wolf One. I detect two hostile torpedoes heading towards the Kerch Strait Bridge. I’m sending my position and my best solution to the weapons and the launching ship. I also recommend abandoning the bridge. Over.”
“Make that four torpedoes, sir!” the sonar operator said.
“Wolf Den, Wolf One. Correction. Four, I repeat, four torpedoes are heading for the bridge. Over.”
“Wolf One, Wolf Den. I understand four torpedoes are heading towards the Kerch Strait Bridge. We just received a bomb threat for the bridge. It’s already being abandoned. Over.”
An uncomfortable silence told Volkov that he and the watchman on the phone felt like helpless bystanders to an orchestrated attack. The replacement voice carried the authority of the senior watch officer at headquarters, as well as concern for being surprised.
“Wolf One, Wolf Den. Are you sure the torpedoes are heading towards the bridge? Did you detect any submerged contacts? Over.”
“Wolf Den, Wolf One. No submerged contacts. Nothing submerged could have passed the Bosporus without being detected by our hydrophone field at the exit, and I have no evidence of a submerged vessel here. Over.”
“Wolf One, Wolf Den. I’m correlating your data to a ship in the area. This suggests illegal arming of a merchant vessel. I’m vectoring in our patrol aircraft for visual and the Muromets to board the assailing vessel. Stay out of the way so you don’t get shot. Over.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to send a torpedo at the bastard and just end this?”
“Yes, damn it, I’m sure. We haven’t confirmed the shooter or a target yet either. You could sink an innocent ship or ruin the evidence of the attack. Out.”
Volkov secured the handset and glared at the sailor seated at the weapons control console.
“Prepare tube one anyway, for the hostile weapons launch platform. But don’t you dare launch it without making eye contact with me if and when I give the order.”
As the weapons operator obeyed and announced the readiness of tube one, the sonar operator waved to Volkov.
“Yes, man. What is it?”
“Loud, distant explosion, bearing two-five-five.”
“Mother of God, what’s going on?”
He reached for the handset.
“Wolf Den, Wolf One. Loud, distant explosion, bearing two-five-five. Please correlate with sonar systems from other nearby naval vessels. Over.”
“Wolf One, Wolf Den. Wait. Over.”
“Waiting. Over.”
Volkov’s executive officer, a handsome but uncaring man with political connections, moved to his side. He found it odd that the man showed interest, given that he had secured the future command of a submarine through his family’s name.
“Captain, since we can’t head that way ourselves, maybe we can use the dolphins. They could be close enough to take a look.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea.”
As Volkov drew breath to summon the dolphin trainer, the lithe master of the mammals slipped into the compartment with the dexterous ease of his animals.
“The rumor has already spread throughout the ship. Someone is attacking the bridge with torpedoes?”
“An armed merchant ship, if you can believe it,” Volkov said. “It’s a suicide attack. They must know there’s no way out of this.”
“No. There isn’t,” the trainer said.
“As it stands, I can’t get any closer with my ship due to the risk of friendly fire. So I want the dolphins to discern the details.”
The trainer brushed the sonar operator’s shoulder as he sat at the console beside him.
“Let me find my babies. Do I have your permission to talk to them?”
“As usual, let me know your intent before you transmit each message. But yes. You have control of the underwater communications sonar.”
“Since there’s so much activity, I’ll just start by asking for their location. They need to know I’m thinking about them.”
Volkov twisted a knob above his head to pipe sound through the compartment’s loudspeakers. He listened as the Krasnodar simulated an aquatic animal. Three series of outgoing recordings followed by mammalian responses filled the control room.
“Based upon round-trip timing and the sound-velocity profile in these waters, the distance to the lead dolphin is ten thousand yards,” the sonar operator said. “Bearing is two-six-three.”
“Very well,” Volkov said. “Plot it on the chart.”
Below his chin, the black whale icon appeared. He frowned.
“That’s still a whale,” he said. “Nobody changed it? Never mind. Tell me what bearing, or hour on the clock, rather, they need to swim to find the origin of these torpedoes?”
“Four o’clock, sir,” the sonar operator said.
“I’ll send them,” the trainer said.
Volkov nodded, and another exchange of chirps and whistles filled the room.
“They’re swimming in the correct direction,” the trainer said. “I sent them at eleven knots.”
“That’s twenty-two minutes of swimming,” the sonar operator said.
“They’ll be fine,” the trainer said. “They’re my athletes.”
The amplified voice garnered Volkov’s ear.
“Wolf One, Wolf Den. I’m sending you data about the explosion. It’s near a section of our undersea pipeline, and we’ve lost system pressure. So we know it has taken damage. I’m also sending data of the ship that’s been identified as the hostile torpedo launch platform.”
Volkov analyzed the data as it fed his tactical system. The explosion had been triangulated to a section of the pipeline, and the freighter, Marie Lucille, appeared at the likely origins of the torpedoes that raced towards the bridge.
His sonar operator mentioned that the alleged assailant freighter was slowing.
“Wolf Den, Wolf One. The Marie Lucille is slowing. Over.”
“We’ve used the bomb threat as a reason to order every ship within twenty-five miles of the bridge and heading towards it to come to all stop. Over.”
“It’s not trying to run or fight. It’s not behaving like it has any knowledge of the weapons. How did you identify it as the culprit? Over.”
“By your information and a visual from our aircraft. Over.”
“My information is long-range passive sonar. It might correlate to other ships. What did your aircraft see? Over.”
“Nothing unusual. Just running lights. The admiral didn’t send any aircraft closer in case of anti-air missiles. The Muromets will intercept it in twenty-four minutes, and fighter jets have been scrambled as back up. They will be caught. Stop trying to run this from under the water. Out.”
Volkov turned and walked to the elevated conning platform at the compartment’s rear. As he sank into his foldout captain’s chair, he studied his monitor. The update of the target, Marie Lucille, shortened the dolphins’ estimated swim time.
He waited for the trainer to lift his head and make eye contact, and then he gestured him to the conning platform.
“Yes, sir?”
“You’re not at all concerned that I’m sending the dolphins to investigate a surfaced contact?”