The Zhukov Briefing

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

News of the disappearance of Krasnov reached the Zhukov in the early hours of morning. It came in the shape of a radio message from Major Martinsen using a Nepa salvage vessel as communications link.

Yenev, worrying about the progress of salvage operations, was lying on his bunk awake when Uskhan brought the signal: Regret to inform you that Lieutenant Ivan Krasnov cannot be found. He was last seen by Sub-Lieutenant Gerasov in the kafeteria at approximately 1100 last night stop Norwegian vessels on patrol off Vrakoy have been alerted and a search in and around Kolhamn is proceeding.

Yenev instructed Uskhan to request the salvage vessel Volga to inform all Soviet naval units in the vicinity that Krasnov might have been abducted or be making an escape by sea. That done he sent for Milovych. The commissar, awakened from solid sleep, arrived in the captain’s cabin wearing a towelling wrap. It concealed most of his plump body but when Milovych sat down Yenev could not, serious though the situation was, help observing how the commissar, aware of the direction of the captain’s gaze, drew the wrap more tightly about himself. He was still in a state of somnolent irritation. Among other things he was annoyed that he’d forgotten to put in his dentures. This introduced an unusual sibilance, a minuscule but embarrassing whistle when he spoke. Looking at his watch, he said, ‘I presume you have good reasons for sending for me at this hour?’ Yenev passed him the signal. ‘Judge for yourself.’

As he read, Milovych’s face paled visibly and seemed about to collapse. Recovering his poise, he stood up, pulled the wrap more tightly round his body and re-tied the girdle. ‘This is extremely serious, comrade.’ He waved the signal with one hand, gestured with the other.

Each man knew what the other was thinking. Defection. The commissar’s small eyes bored into Yenev’s. ‘Have you had, ever had, any cause to doubt Krasnov?’

‘Never,’ said the captain. ‘Knowing how thoroughly your department investigates the background, record and political behaviour of officers — especially those dealing with classified technology — I have never doubted him. Of course, as a seaman, I’m not enthusiastic about graduate entrants. You know that. I have, as you also know, been critical of Krasnov at times because he tends to be cocksure, too patronizing. But he’s been a good officer and that he should be insecure, politically unstable — well, that I certainly have never thought.’ Milovych pulled at the flesh beneath his eyes as if the gesture in some way improved matters. ‘I must say I never had any doubts about him. His political soundness. His loyalty to the Party.’

You wouldn’t have, you podgy dolt, thought Yenev. Officers who disliked the Party and its methods went to considerable lengths to conceal their feelings. Only occasionally were they identified and then almost always through informers — and no naval, army or air force unit lacked them. If anyone knew that the commissar should.

‘And now,’ said Milovych. ‘What do you propose to do?’

‘I’ve already asked the Volga to inform all Soviet naval units in the vicinity.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘It is a political matter, comrade commissar. Abduction or defection on foreign soil. That is why I at once sent for you.’ Milovych smiled. His thoughts were racing ahead. This was his scene and he was going to make the most of it. It was he who had urged that Krasnov and Gerasov should be armed when it was decided they should be left ashore. It was Yenev who had opposed the idea — on the grounds that it was a breach of protocol. Yenev’s view had prevailed. That was something which Milovych would recall at the appropriate time and place.

‘Please ask the Volga to send a boat across for me!’ He said it with an air of bustling importance. ‘I must go into Kolhamn at once to see Major Martinsen and the Ordforer. I shall have to take charge of matters ashore. Ensure that everything possible is being done.’

‘Good,’ said Yenev rising from his desk. ‘But remember it is Norway, not Soviet Russia. What you can do is limited.’

‘I am well aware of that, comrade Yenev.’ Milovych eyed the captain sternly as if he had taken some unwarranted liberty.

‘What are you going to do about an interpreter?’ asked Yenev, adding somewhat unkindly, ‘You’ve no longer got Krasnov.’

‘I will take Gallinin. He speaks Norwegian.’

‘I take it, then, that you will accept responsibility for radiation control failures,’ said Yenev.

‘There are several experts in that field in the salvage vessels, comrade Yenev. I imagine they can do without Gallinin.’

‘Very well,’ said Yenev. ‘I accept your decision. But it must be logged as yours.’

Milovych’s small eyes glinted with animosity, and he made a mental note of Yenev’s challenge before changing the subject. ‘When I am in possession of the facts I shall send a signal to the Vice-Admiral in command of the Political Department in Leningrad informing him of the occurrence.’

‘Yes. That would be advisable. He won’t be pleased, of course.’ Yenev said this rather pointedly and with some relish. For a time it silenced the commissar, who had become thoughtful. No doubt Leningrad would not be pleased. They would want a sacrificial lamb. He would try to make it Yenev. But that might not be easy. He looked up, began a smile but cut it off when he remembered the missing dentures. ‘I must get into uniform,’ he said with sudden resolve. ‘Excuse me.’

‘Of course.’ Yenev was aware for the first time of feeling genuinely sorry for the commissar, who now had a heavy load of hay on his fork. ‘It is an extremely serious matter,’ said the captain. ‘I shall not rest until I hear your news.’

This was something of an overstatement for within ten minutes of the commissar’s departure Yenev was asleep.

When he reached the radhus during the early hours of morning the commissar found Major Martinsen with the Ordforer and Odd Dahl the bailiff. When Milovych explained that Gallinin would act as interpreter Martinsen said, ‘That will not be necessary.’

Milovych found difficulty in concealing his surprise. Martinsen had spoken Russian. Initially, when he’d come off to the Zhukov with the message from the embassy in Oslo, and on subsequent occasions, he’d given no indication that he knew the language. Norwegian had always been used. Gallinin or Krasnov interpreting. Milovych was about to point this out, then thought better of it. Martinsen had been deceitful but that was a minor offence in the commissar’s book. He would certainly have done the same thing if he could have turned it to advantage. No doubt Martinsen had hoped to overhear something of value. That he should now speak Russian suggested he hadn’t.

‘Nevertheless,’ said Milovych, returning to the point, ‘I would like Gallinin to be present during our talks.’

‘We have no objection,’ said Martinsen.

They seated themselves round the table in the Ordforer’s office and Milovych opened the proceedings. ‘I’ve had your disturbing message about Lieutenant Krasnov,’ he said, pinching the folds of his double chin. ‘What is the latest news?’

‘We are still conducting a house-to-house inquiry,’ said Martinsen. ‘We’ve already searched the harbour area including a vessel about which Dr Kroll had suspicions.’

‘Which vessel?’

‘The yacht Kestrel Crewed by British tourists. But there was nobody on board except the four crew members. The yacht sailed early this morning.’

Milovych bristled. ‘That should not have been permitted.’

Martinsen said, ‘It was a matter for us to decide, Commissar. This is a Norwegian port.’ He yawned, he’d been up a long time. ‘In any event, later she was stopped and searched at sea by our fast gunboat. It was a thorough search. The officer responsible says he would have found a hidden rabbit, let alone a Soviet naval officer.’

Milovych was silent, weighing what had been said, wondering if the reference to the rabbit concealed something uncomplimentary. ‘Who is conducting the house-to-house search?’ he challenged.

‘It’s not a search.’ Martinsen spoke wearily. ‘It’s an inquiry. Our soldiers and sailors are conducting it.’

‘An inquiry is not enough,’ said Milovych. ‘Every house in Kolhamn should be searched from basement to attic.’ Martinsen repeated this to the Ordforer in Norwegian. Hjalmar Nordsen frowned, his mouth set firmly. ‘Tell the commissar this is Norway, not, with respect, Soviet Russia. We do not institute house-to-house searches to find men from foreign ships who go missing. We have already in my opinion over-reacted in our efforts to be helpful to his government. Krasnov may be in bed with a local girl at this moment while we are involved in all this fuss and bother.’

Gallinin translated.

‘No,’ said Milovych emphatically. ‘Our officers are too well disciplined. I believe he has been abducted.’

Martinsen raised his eyebrows. ‘Abducted? Whatever for? Who would want to do that?’ He watched the commissar’s face with studied care before explaining to the Ordforer what had been said.

The commissar, aware that his reactions were under observation, attempted to control them by clenching his podgy fists until the knuckles showed white on the table. This was a question he should not have invited. Why indeed if the Zhukov was obsolete and used only for training would anyone want to abduct one of her officers?

‘Well,’ he countered, ‘he may have been murdered.’ It was weak and everyone in the room including Gallinin knew it was.

‘In which case a body will presumably be found and the matter becomes one for the police,’ said Martinsen.

Milovych’s small eyes narrowed. I must, he thought, take a grip on myself. These Norwegians are being difficult. ‘The whole affair suggests that Lieutenant Krasnov has been the victim of violence,’ he said. ‘Gerasov tells me that when the lieutenant went to the lavatory he left his uniform cap on the table. So he intended to return.’ There was a glint of triumph in the commissar’s eyes as he looked round the table. He’d made a good point and knew it. ‘Krasnov went through the swing-door to the passage leading to the lavatory and has not been seen since. The fire exit at the back was found bolted on the inside. If he went out of that door — which he must have done — someone bolted it behind him.’

‘I am not a detective, Commissar,’ said Martinsen, ‘but we cannot exclude the possibility that he has defected.’

‘Defected?’ Milovych’s attempt at incredulity was belied by the sudden fear in his eyes. Defection was the permanent nightmare of political commissars in the Soviet armed forces, more especially if the defector had access to highly classified information. And Krasnov had certainly had that. Of course the commissar had thought of defection. It had been his first reaction when he’d seen the signal in Yenev’s cabin. But if Krasnov had defected where was he? Almost certainly somewhere on Vrakoy, most probably still in Kolhamn. Yet these wretched Norwegians were not prepared to take the elementary precaution of a house search. The situation was impossible.

‘Yes. Defected,’ Martinsen was saying. ‘It may have been pre-arranged. Some girl perhaps. He leaves his cap on the table so that Gerasov’s suspicions are not aroused. He goes out by the fire exit door and his accomplice — man or woman — bolts it on the inside.’

Gerasov will have to account for this, the commissar was thinking. My instructions were unequivocal. They were never to leave each other. Always to remain together. Even on a visit to the lavatory. He turned to Martinsen. ‘At daylight we will land a party of naval ratings under officers to conduct a thorough search of the island. In the meantime I must take Sub-Lieutenant Gerasov back to the ship.’ The commissar smiled. ‘There will have to be an official inquiry on board and we shall need his evidence.’

Poor little bastard, thought Martinsen.

Milovych got up to go.

Martinsen raised a restraining hand. ‘Before you go, Commissar, I must draw your attention to certain matters of protocol. In the first place please understand that Vrakoy, however small, is a part of Norway. We do not permit searches on Norwegian soil by the armed forces of foreign countries. If you wish to land a few naval ratings under an officer to carry out the normal duties of a naval patrol — that is to supervise and control the behaviour of your libertymen ashore, if any — ’ He stared at Milovych. Both men knew there weren’t any — ‘you may do so provided the Ordforer has no objection. But your men will have no right of search. Neither of houses nor anything else on Vrakoy. I trust you understand?’

Milovych smiled. He knew when to give in. His bluff had been called. He was not so much a devotee of the Party as of Boris Milovych. He knew a good thing when he saw it, and when he did devoted his devious but capable mind to its pursuit. He was a successful member of the Party, but he could have been equally successful as a Wall Street broker or a brothel keeper in the Reeperbahn.

‘You may rest assured, gentlemen, that we will do nothing improper. Perhaps I should have put it this way: if you would like the assistance of our men in the search for Lieutenant Krasnov, we shall be only too happy to co-operate.’

‘Your offer will be borne in mind, Commissar,’ said Martinsen gravely. ‘But I think we are capable of handling the situation. Of course, we will keep you informed.’

Milovych rose, beckoned to Gallinin. ‘Well, goodnight gentlemen. We must be going.’

Martinsen and the Ordforer stood up. ‘Goodnight, Commissar,’ said Martinsen.

Milovych’s instinct told him they weren’t sorry to see him go.

With the improvement in the weather salvage work on the Zhukov proceeded apace. The ‘camels’ had arrived, been placed alongside to port and starboard and flooded. Divers passed lifting cables under the stern which was clear of the bottom for some twenty metres of its length, whereafter they were hauled forward as far as possible by wires taken through lead-blocks to the submarine’s fin and winched in by the tugs.

At high tide the ballast in the ‘camels’ was blown and with the aid of the submarine’s own buoyancy they lifted two-thirds of her length clear of the bottom. Divers then passed another set of lifting cables under her hull, this time further forward. At low water the ‘camels’, free of their load, were manoeuvred towards the bow, flooded and secured to the new set. Blowing of the ‘camels’’ ballast tanks and lifting took place again at the next high tide. This operation was repeated on five successive tides until the ‘camels’ and cables had arrived in the desired position to port and starboard of the fin. They were then flooded and the final set of lifting cables placed in position.

Towing wires were rigged between the submarine and the Oktober tugs — three of them now, an additional tug having towed the ‘camels’ from Polyarnyo — and Feodor, the salvage expert, announced that all was ready for the final operation. On the following day at high tide the flooded bow would be lifted, full flotation achieved and the Zhukov would be towed stern first out of the cove.

The tow line would then be re-rigged so that the submarine could be towed bows first, the ‘camels’ providing buoyancy forward. That done, the six-hundred mile journey to Murmansk would begin, Zhukov using her main engines at slow speed to supplement the towing power of the Oktober tugs and to assist steering.

During the operation she would be escorted by the Nepa salvage vessels, two Kashin and two Kanin class destroyers, and three patrol submarines.

The Soviet Navy’s High Command was taking no chances with their crippled giant. Every effort would be made to ensure that she and her secrets were returned safely to the Soviet Union.

Gerasov was brought before Yenev and Milovych early in the forenoon. The sub-lieutenant had arrived back on board with the commissar and Gallinin at five o’clock that morning. Haggard, pale and red of eye, he’d not slept for some twenty-four hours and was close to breaking point.

Milovych questioned, cajoled, grilled, pleaded, threatened and bullied, but Gerasov stuck to his story: Krasnov had, notwithstanding Gerasov’s protests, told him to remain at the table when he went to the lavatory.

‘Why should he do such a thing?’ prodded Milovych.

‘I don’t know, Commissar.’

‘Did this not arouse your suspicions? Why did you not insist on accompanying him? You knew he could not countermand my orders.’

Gerasov had no satisfactory answer. He could not tell the truth: that the point hadn’t arisen, that Krasnov had simply got up and gone while Gerasov had remained at the table. Why? To exchange glances with the English girl, hopefully to speak to her because he’d sensed she was interested. How could he tell these things to Milovych and Yenev?

Milovych pressed on relentlessly. In the few days they’d been together in the hospits had Krasnov given any indication of an intention to defect? Had he expressed views critical of the Navy or the Party? Had he said or done anything which raised the slightest doubt in Gerasov’s mind?

No, lied the tired and frightened Gerasov, he had not. How could he tell them that Krasnov disliked the Navy, regarded many aspects of naval discipline and procedure as asinine, longed to get out of it into the academic world, into an environment where his doubts about the Party and its policies might not seem so out of place? Gerasov knew only too well that if he’d heard such things he should at once have informed Milovych. Nor had he remained neutral. Instead, in a mild indecisive way, he’d sympathized, shown some understanding of Krasnov’s feelings.

Since he could not tell them these things he persisted with the denials. No, Krasnov had never done or said anything which could possibly have suggested defection. At least, reflected Gerasov, that was true. Krasnov had at no time hinted at defection.

Within an hour the inquiry had been completed. Gerasov was placed under close arrest and informed that he would be sent for court martial on Zhukov’s arrival in Murmansk. Milovych was leaving no stone unturned in his search for a scapegoat. If he couldn’t implicate the captain, at least he could Gerasov.

During the afternoon Gerasov told the seaman on armed guard outside his cabin that he wished to visit the lavatory. When after some time he had not returned, the seaman gave the alarm and the door was forced. The sub-lieutenant was found hanging from a lamp bracket in the deckhead, his braces round his neck.

While Milovych was relieved to learn of this development, which he took to be an admission of guilt, he was disappointed that the sub-lieutenant had evaded a court martial. Before a naval court, in those circumstances, Milovych felt he could have done much to protect his own position.

In the early hours of morning there was considerable activity by Soviet naval units north-west of Vrakoy. It was through these waters that Bluewhale and Rockfish were travelling, now some twenty miles apart.

Both submarines had gone deep and had picked up at long range two fast-moving surface contacts approaching from the south-west. In due course they heard the new contacts’ sonar transmissions and propeller noises and independently identified the sound signatures as those of Kashin class destroyers. It was cold comfort to the submarines’ captains to recall that these Soviet guided-missile destroyers were equipped with anti-submarine homing rockets and VLR search sonar. There was no real danger that Soviet units would attack NATO submarines at sea in international waters in peacetime. But the consciences of Bluewhale and Rockfish’s captains — and certain of their passengers — were by no means clear and this tended to blur the truth: that it was not unusual for anti-submarine units of either side to hound each others’ submarines and use them as ‘targets for exercise’ whenever they found them. On the contrary, what was in the captains’ minds was the old and recurrent fear of NATO submariners: that Soviet surface vessels might fire A/S homing rockets ‘for exercise’ and protest ignorance of submarines in the area if called to account.

Before long, however, tension was relieved by the appearance on the submarines’ sonar screens of more fast-moving contacts. These proved by their sound signatures to be three of the US Navy’s Belknap guided-missile frigates. From their behaviour it was evident they intended to remain in close company with the Kashin destroyers for whom they were more than a match. The submarine captains knew that the Belknaps would already have Bluewhale and Rockfish on their sonar screens and have identified them as NATO units.

It became evident shortly afterwards that helicopters from both sides had joined in the fun for the submarines picked up dunked sonar buoy transmissions and found by computer comparison that they were those of both the United States and Soviet Navies.

At daylight the Soviet destroyers had evidently had enough for they disappeared in a south-westerly direction, accompanied by their helicopters.