They saw the boats lifted into the air, the occupants dislodged briefly from their positions, but only for a split second before the explosion. Then there was nothing. Remnants of the boat were visible on the surface of the water, and perhaps even parts of a human being, as the spray cleared. There was no fire. There was nothing to burn.
The glasses fell from Svedrov's grasp, swinging from his neck. His jaw relaxed and his mouth fell open. He turned to the captain of Rezvy to say something, but nothing would come out. His eyes blinked involuntarily.
"Shall I give orders to attack?" questioned the captain, his face contorted in anger.
Svedrov shook his head, the bushy eyebrows knit together. The other looked questioningly at him. The Chief of Staff shook his head again and muttered, "The torpedo report a moment ago. That must have been it. But there are no submarines in the area. No one has fired… it must have been loose in the water… " he pointed down to the surface from their spot on the bridge, "… it was an accident." He was trying desperately to find a reason for this loss.
Then the Chief of Staff's face hardened. "He was right. We must stop this." He turned to Rezvy's captain, "Set a course for the Maldives, and give the order to the force." And at the look of concern from- the other, "I will contact Gorenko myself." Then he quickly turned toward the sea so no one would see his face.
On California, Bill Dailey's eyes misted for a moment. Then he lifted the binoculars to his face to search the spot again. His mind raced. He heard someone push the general quarters alarm even though, for all practical purposes, they had remained in that status. He remembered the report from sonar, torpedo near the small craft. Then he had watched horrified as the blast eradicated his Admiral and the Russian in an instant. He tried to remember which boat seemed to have been hit first, but then he realized it was impossible to tell, even if he had been taking a picture. And what did it matter anyway?
Then he sensed California's captain at his side, waiting for orders. The bell was still clanging. His mind raced. They couldn't do anything foolish. He must stop them. "Captain," he called, "Set a course for the Seychelles. Give that order to all ships." It was time to stop this insanity. That's what Admiral Charles had gone out there for, he thought, to make sure no more lives were lost. He allowed no one to see his eyes as he left the bridge to prepare the message he would send to Carter.
Gorenko had the driver stop when they were halfway up the driveway to the dacha. The trip from Moscow lasted less than an hour, but it was the most agonizing hour of his life. The driver saw in the rearview mirror that the Admiral sat stone-faced. No expression crossed his face. He appeared emotionless.
But his heart had been torn from his body when he saw the tape of that explosion. Tears would not come for the loss of the man he had found as a boy in a little village on the east bank of the Volga. But the inner pain was pure agony. He knew immediately he would have to go to Tasha. He had sent her to the dacha a few days before, far enough away for her and the child to be safe.
Now as he looked out the car window, he saw the boy running across the snow-covered yard. How much like his father, thought Gorenko. The Admiral had also arranged for his grandson to be released from his Nakhimov school to be with his mother. The Navy could do without him for a few days. He swung the car door open, and the boy leaped excitedly in, then, in respect to the other, extended his right hand to shake the old, gnarled paw of his grandfather.
It was then that Gorenko broke down. Tears came to his eyes silently. There was no sound. The boy did not notice it until they swung around by the front door. When he saw his grandfather sitting perfectly erect, face forward, the tears streaming down his cheeks, he ran into the house to get his mother.
Tasha Kupinsky bent slightly as she came out of the door to look into the car. She hadn't understood her son. But when she came to the open door and looked in at Gorenko, she knew.
She extended her hand to the suddenly very old man, whose shoulders were now slightly rounded. He looked up at Tasha. Her great sad eyes looked deeply into his and said they understood the pain, and she gestured with her other hand for him to come inside with her.
The moisture did come to Sam Carter's eyes. At first they were tears of rage as he stared at the picture before him in disbelief. The pencil in his hands snapped. One of his aides had just left the room, and for a moment he was alone with his terrible knowledge, the scene riveted in his brain. He rose from his chair, knocking it over, sweeping the papers on his desk to the floor as he strode across to a window.
With the realization of what had just occurred, the tears of rage changed to tears of anguish. The angry young ensign who had returned from a Cuban beach to shout at his captain was now gone. All of the emotion he had held back for years suddenly welled up from inside. He knew he was losing control, and he fought back.
At that moment, his secretary entered, following her usual method of pushing through the door as she knocked. Sam Carter heard the sound and turned. Stopping dead in her tracks, she mumbled an inaudible excuse and pulled the door shut behind her. She had never seen an Admiral cry.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had stared at that picture of horror. That instant was still vivid in his mind. Now, he was at Mafia's door in Virginia. He turned to look back and saw his car in the driveway, the chauffeur sitting respectfully at the wheel. He knew why he had come. He had to be the one to tell her.
He couldn't remember if he had pushed the bell. He reached for the button again, but the door was already swinging open, and there was Maria, looking as lovely as he always remembered her.
She looked out at Sam Carter and saw only the ghost of the man David had always loved. She saw it all in his eyes, and knew right away why he was standing on her doorstep.
"Please come in, Sam."
He removed his hat and stepped up into the foyer. He looked deeply into her eyes and opened his mouth to tell her, but nothing would come out.
She put both her hands out and grasped his, squeezing them tightly, and said, "I know why you're here." Then she stepped forward and put her head on his shoulder. She was crying for her sailor, who would not be home from sea.