The Zhukov Briefing

CHAPTER SIX

Shortly before first light the skimmer left the Zhukov and set off for Kolhamn on the south-eastern side of the island.

It was manned by two seamen with a sub-lieutenant in charge, and had as passengers Boris Milovych and Ivan Krasnov. Krasnov had been selected for his fluent Norwegian, high level of intelligence and known reliability. With the torpedo and sonar systems out of action and beyond shipboard repair, there was little point in keeping him on board.

It had been agreed with Yenev that Milovych would contact the local authority in Kolhamn and through him transmit to Soviet Naval HQ the message which the captain and the commissar had prepared. It was in code and contained details of the stranding, a non-committal account of the damage suffered, and an urgent request for assistance. They had agreed that the name of the Zhukov should under no circumstances be disclosed to the Norwegians. The Russians who went ashore were to stress that she was one of the first generation of nuclear boats, no longer suitable for operational work, now only used for training purposes. She had been, they were to say, on a training cruise when the stranding had taken place. No reasons for that occurrence were to be given.

The skimmer rounded Fyrbergnes keeping close inshore and under the powerful beam from the lighthouse which swept a wide arc of the sea every ten seconds. Once round the point the sub-lieutenant steered for the light on Kolnoy, the small islet on the southern side of the mouth of Kolfjord. Travelling fast the small craft bounced over the undulations of the sea, spray sweeping over its occupants, increasing their discomfort on this dark cold October morning north of the Arctic Circle.

When the light of Kolnoy was close ahead, the skimmer swung round into the fjord and ran in on the red transit beacons. It passed two fishing boats making towards the open sea. The lights of the small town at the head of the fjord grew steadily brighter and soon the skimmer entered the harbour, the high note of the engine dropped and the small craft went alongside a fishing boat lying at a rough quay standing on wooden stilts. Milovych, Krasnov and the sublieutenant clambered across the fishing boat and climbed a ladder on to the quay. Krasnov saluted a small knot of men who stood there talking. ‘Please direct us to your burgomaster,’ he said.

A bearded man in oilskins asked, ‘Who are you?’

‘We are officers of the Soviet Navy.’

‘What brings you here?’

‘Our ship is outside.’ Krasnov extended an arm vaguely in the direction of the sea. ‘We must at once see your burgomaster.’

A deep Norwegian voice said, ‘So you’re from the big submarine. Did you manage to ram the Dragetennene?’ He laughed in the darkness. The others watched the Russians closely, wondering what their reaction would be.

Krasnov said, ‘Please. It is urgent. Take us to your burgomaster,’

‘We don’t have one,’ said the bearded man. ‘But follow me. I’ll take you to the home of Hjalmar Nordsen. He’s our Ordforer. That’s much the same thing, I suppose.’