‘Sounds pretty conclusive. Now. What are these unusual features?’
‘Well sir,’ the commodore (Intelligence) seemed uncertain where to start. ‘Well our boffins have looked these over and found certain things.’ He leant over the admiral’s shoulder. ‘Those parallel lineal shadows along the after-casing for example,’ he indicated them with a pencil, ‘… are fairings over the missile tubes. There wouldn’t be shadows unless they stood well proud of the casing. That suggests a longer missile than the Sawflys used in the Y class.’
‘That means…?’
‘Greater range for a start. It may also mean MARV warheads.’
The admiral looked up. ‘Independently manoeuvrable and targeted re-entry vehicles? They do think up the most awful names, don’t they?’
He put his eyes once more to the stereoscope. ‘What else?’ The commodore considered the question. ‘We’ve accepted that the Soviet Navy is moving ahead of the US Navy in ballistic missile range. If they take the lead in introducing MARV warheads into submarine missilry, well…’
‘I know,’ the admiral waved a deprecatory hand. ‘I’ve done the course, too. “It will constitute a serious threat to the West.” Anything else in these?’
The commodore’s pencil moved again. ‘Yes. The conning-tower or fin is further forward than in the Y class, and it has this semi-circular extension on its after side. Rather like half a pressure hull. Must be all of thirty feet and about half the height of the fin. Too large for a radome.’
‘Any idea what it’s for?’
‘It’s possible to hazard all sorts of guesses but we’ve no real idea. Clematis reported that the Delta Twos had this extension, but he hasn’t been able to discover its purpose. The security rating is exceptionally high.’
The admiral nodded. ‘I’m not surprised. Anything else?’
‘Yes. Those semi-circular blisters right aft. They extend over the last fifteen metres of the submarine’s length. Terminate either side of the tail stabilizer fin and rudder. Our boffins have worked at it but can’t come up with anything helpful. It’s not particularly good hydrodynamics, they say, so must have a pretty important function.’
‘The baffled boffins,’ said the admiral thoughtfully. ‘Good title for a book. And now, Mr Commodore Intelligence… what’s your proposal?’ The VCNS and the commodore were old shipmates.
The small man frowned, pulled at his chin and contemplated the Mall beyond the admiral’s left shoulder.
‘Point one, sir.’ He threw in the occasional ‘sir’ for good measure. ‘Information about the new Delta Two is vital to the West if the balance of maritime nuclear capability is not to be upset.’
The admiral looked at him with renewed interest. ‘Go on, Rathouse,’ he said. ‘This is splendid stuff. Worthy of the senior war course.’
The commodore said, ‘Sorry. But it’s important to see this thing in perspective.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ said the admiral. ‘Whose perspective often provides the problem.’
‘Point two.’ The commodore was unabashed. ‘I think we should keep this off NATO’s plate. At this stage at any rate.’
‘Why?’ VCNS’s voice, eyes and chin combined in a single challenge.
‘NATO is in a state of disarray. For various reasons. The Middle East affair. Tricky Dick’s alert to US armed forces round the world. His incredible failure to consult with NATO before embarking on that face-to-face with the USSR. Then there’s trauma between the major NATO powers and the US about oil. You know. Chauvinistic pursuit of short-term aims vis-à-vis the Arab-Israeli war because of dependence on Arab oil.’ He paused to see what effect all this was having on the Vice-Chief of the Naval Staff.
‘Go on,’ said the VCNS. ‘You fascinate me.’
‘I feel — we feel,’ amended the commodore thinking of his staff, ‘that if we take this to NATO the US, as leading nuclear power in the West, is going to demand a major say in any intelligence operation.’
‘Leading is an understatement, Rathouse. Of course they will. So would we in their situation.’
‘I agree, but we’re not happy about it. Washington may forgo exploitation of the opportunity rather than risk damaging the détente with Moscow. And, frankly, I don’t think they’re capable of the subtlety, the low profile, this demands.’
‘Come, come, Rathouse.’ The admiral made a clicking noise. ‘That’s a chauvinistic statement if ever there was one. Anyway, what about the Norwegians? The submarine is aground on their territory. They’re highly sensitive about territorial rights. For my money they’ve already decided they’ll handle this themselves. They’ll tell NATO to lay off.’
The commodore said, ‘I agree they’ll not want NATO to butt in. But in my view the Norwegians won’t do any intelligence gathering. What they will do is give the Russians every assistance in getting the Zhukov off. Her presence is highly embarrassing. Norway is most anxious to preserve good relations with the USSR. Certainly they’re in no mood to take risks.’
The VCNS tried again to balance a paper knife on the paperweight. ‘I think I go along with that.’
‘We know Roald Lund, Norway’s director of service intelligence,’ continued the commodore. ‘Freddie Lewis is a close friend. Both airmen. They’ve done staff courses and NATO war courses together. So we know him well. How he thinks. How he works. He regards NATO Northern Command as a leaky intelligence sieve. The US have a CIA unit there. Civilians. Ostensibly for security purposes only. But,’ the commodore spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders, ‘you know how these things work, particularly as the US have no service intelligence units in that set-up.’
The admiral looked relieved. He’d succeeded in getting the paper knife to balance. ‘What is your proposal, Rathouse?’
The commodore looked the VCNS squarely in the face. This was the crunch. ‘I believe we must exploit the opportunity to the full. Do it on our own as a purely British venture.’
‘Have you thought of the implications?’
‘Yes, sir. What I — we — have in mind won’t put Norwegian interests at risk although her territory is involved.’
‘Our interests?’
‘It won’t be known at any stage that it is a British operation. If anything its stamp will be Chinese.’
‘China in Norway.’ The VCNS raised a critical eyebrow. ‘Little far fetched isn’t it?’
‘Not when you hear the details, sir.’ The commodore’s smile was indulgent. ‘What we want is a private venture with service support in the background. Very much in the background. And it’s no more than an intelligence gathering operation. We’ve done some rough outline planning. Not much.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Only two hours since we got Daffodil’s message. And we can’t really get down to the nitty gritty until our people are on Vrakoy. It’ll be a case of looking for leads and following them.’
‘Sounds rather cloak-and-dagger,’ said the VCNS doubtfully. ‘Tell me more.’
The commodore did and, half an hour later when he stood up to go, the VCNS said, ‘Well, Rathouse, I’ll have to discuss this with the First Sea Lord once you’ve cleared it in principle with ICC and Maltby.’ ICC was the intelligence co-ordinating committee in Whitehall. Maltby of the Cabinet Office was its éminence grise. ‘But remember,’ the VCNS wagged an admonitory finger. ‘If I do put it to One-SL it will be on the strict understanding that it is no more than an intelligence gathering operation. To be carried out in such a way that neither the Norwegian nor British Governments can possibly be involved. In other words, if you get the go-ahead you’re on your own. Your party will be without official support or recognition and if things go wrong we shall not hesitate to repudiate them, and — ’ his grey eyes narrowed into a cold stare, ‘we’ll sack you.’