Voyage of the Devilfish

CHAPTER 13

Colonel Ivan Dretzski studied his notes for the final remaining minutes before the hearing on the Northern Fleet’s deployment to the Atlantic was called to order. Its purpose was to determine why the fleet had sailed without permission from Moscow, and what to do about it. The room looked like a Russian version of a Senate hearing room. On the back wall, perhaps four meters tall, the faded outline of the old hammer and sickle showed, its shape indicated by the contrast of the dirty wall with the clean spot where the symbol of the Soviet Union had once hung.

He thought about Novskoyy being convinced that it was the agents of the United States that had brought down the USSR. Maybe Novskoyy was right in opposing America’s military forces, but not about the rest… Russia’s problem wasn’t McDonald’s hamburgers in Red Square. Its economy had collapsed. Without oil exports it was a poor agrarian country. Ever since he had agreed to Novskoyy’s plan, under duress — hell, threat — its flaws nagged at him, and now seemed magnified with the admiral at sea. His rhetoric and powerful personality weren’t there to melt away doubts. In the cold light of logic, the plan seemed extreme to the point of risking a nuclear war. Trust and arms control and reduction were the better way…

As the members filed in, Dretzski fought against his doubts. America was the glavny protivnik, the main adversary. That was ingrained in him, never mind what seemed to be the case. He was a military man. The military was at deathly risk. His country was still at risk… America’s nuclear weapons were still the issue. Plus its still vast defense organization. Billiondollar Stealth fighters, two-billiondollar submarines, million-dollar cruise missiles, billions of dollars of space-based weapons systems. Novskoyy was a risk taker, but he could also be right…

The members took their seats at the slightly elevated panel in front of Dretzski’s table, their panel forming a horseshoe-shape in front of him.

All were present except the President, who would be a minute late. Dretzski paused from his notes and his mixed feelings to look over the members. On the far left was General Anton Voskod, Chief of the Strategic Rocket Forces, the service that once owned the silo-based intercontinental ballistic missiles. With the arms treaties and the peace race, Voskod was out of a job. Voskod was one of the younger generals, in his early fifties, and had been a hawk during the time when his missiles were constantly pointed at U.S. cities. On General Voskod’s left sat General Dmitri Pallin, the KGB’s Head of the First Chief Directorate, the KGB arm responsible for foreign intelligence. Pallin had come from the FED’s commando ranks. Pallin was also Dretzski’s boss at FED, which meant the presentation had better go well or it would reflect unfavorably on both of them. On Pallin’s left was the civilian KGB chief, Viktor Maksoy, a tired old man who tended to do whatever Pallin wanted, or whatever the highest ranking bureaucrat wanted. Maksoy had no backbone, which was the reason the President had chosen him — he had no taste for a KGB with teeth. Maksoy would go whatever way the wind blew. In the center of the horseshoe was the empty chair for the President. The hearing could not go on without him. Next to the empty chair was Tafel Fasimov, the Defense Minister. A hard-liner like Voskod, he was never fond of capitalism or negotiations with the Americans.

When, thought Dretzski, would the dinosaurs be gone?

To the left of Fasimov was the Foreign Minister Anatoly Kirova. Kirova had spent much time at the U.N., Dretzski thought, and had become, some said, Americanized, his conversion measurable in the hot dogs and pizzas he consumed. Kirova would be against the Novskoyy deployment, and would oppose harassment of the Americans. In the last seat on the right was Admiral Mikhail Barisov, Supreme Commander of the Pacific Fleet, Novskoyy’s opposite number in Vladivostok. Barisov and Novskoyy were as different as two men could be. Barisov was a thinker, a lover of ballet, reader of history. Barisov too had become cozy with the glavny protivnik, spending over a month at the U.S. Naval War College in Newport.

President Misha Sergeiyvich Yulenski entered the room then. Dretzski had not been able to read Yulenski, who could be agreeable one moment and furious the next. He was one of the new generation of democratic politicians.

After Yulenski called the hearing to order Dretzski addressed the men at the table.

“President Yulenski, gentlemen, my name is Colonel Ivan Dretzski and I have been asked to come here and brief you at the request of General Pallin and Chief Maksoy. I am an intelligence specialist in First Chief Directorate, responsible for foreign intelligence estimates and nuclear weapon intelligence. I have a statement to read concerning the deployment of the Northern Fleet, after which I will try to answer any questions you have. Sir?”

“Yes, go ahead. Colonel Dretzski,” Yulenski boomed, his voice and manner jolly, as if trying to win votes.

“Gentlemen,” Dretzski began, “on Tuesday, the Northern Fleet’s 120 nuclear-attack submarines deployed together from their bases on the northern coast. They had been prepared for this special exercise for several months, and at the order of Admiral Alexi Novskoyy, admiral in command of the fleet, the boats began the exercise. The exercise involves several parts. The first part is completed. The initial test was to see how quickly and efficiently the fleet could be scrambled to sea—”

Dretzski could feel Admiral Barisov’s eyes on him. It would not be easy to get anything by Barisov, which was probably why he had been flown in from Vladivostok.

“—with a minimum of notice. The second element of the exercise is to enter the North Atlantic and make a record-time-run to the east coast of the United States—”

The room filled with the buzz of voices.

“I need to stress that this is an exercise only. The ships are training for the possibility of a rapid-deployment. As Admiral Novskoyy has said, if a military unit is supposed to have a capability, and that capability is not regularly tested, the capability vanishes.”

“After approximately one to two days on the coastline, the submarines will withdraw and return to their bases. That will be the third phase. We will evaluate the submarines on their ability to fulfill their missions. We have, of course, never gone into combat with our nuclear submarines — it is not like an army-artillery brigade, learning the science of warfare from centuries of firing cannons. Nuclear submarines are still a relatively new science, never taken into combat. We need to learn how to use this navy if it is to serve the defense of our newly constituted country. Admiral Novskoyy’s exercise will rewrite the book on how we operate our ships.”

“Colonel,” the President began, “why are you, a KGB First Chief Directorate operative, coming to brief us on this? Where is Admiral Novskoyy? Where is his staff?”

Yulenski’s meaning was clear: Who are you, his boy? Dretzski knew he would face this, though he had not been able to prepare a convincing answer.

“Sir, General Pallin and Chief Maksoy accepted Admiral Novskoyy’s invitation to monitor his exercise and serve as referee. The admiral said that a deployment such as this would alert American intelligence agencies immediately. At FED we were given the task to act as if the Northern Fleet was from a separate country—”

“It practically is,” Admiral Barisov broke in. Apparently there was little cooperation between the fleets.

“—and determine if we could detect the deployment in advance when the fleet was provisioned and maintained.”

“What were the results. Colonel?” Pallin asked, as if an encouraging attorney for the defense.

“We could not detect anything that looked like unusual activity. Not by satellites, radio surveillance, phone taps, warehouse activity, maintenance activity or even crewmember movements.”

“Very convenient,” Colonel,” Admiral Barisov said. “Novskoyy hired you to see no evil, hear no evil—”

“I will give you a more impartial account than any Northern Fleet official or officer would. I would actually like to tell you that we detected Admiral Novskoyy’s activity, but we did not. A failure for us, but a victory for our nation.”

President Yulenski took the floor, his joviality gone.

“Colonel, why were the submarines sent to the coast of America without my knowledge or authorization? Why are we threatening the Americans? What do we expect them to do when they see all these submarines off their coast?”

“Sir, the intent is to avoid detection. If the boats get to their coast undetected, then we have proved the fleet can do it and Admiral Novskoyy’s training and preparations are in order. If, however, every boat runs into defending submarines and ASW ships and aircraft, then we have learned something even more valuable, and we can fix it in case we should ever need the capability… It is an ingenious experiment—”

“So, Colonel Dretzski,” Yulenski said, “shouldn’t we give the Americans the courtesy of a phone call to tell them that our toys are wandering around practically in their territorial waters?”

Dretzski’s armpits suddenly were wet. It was crucial that the Kremlin not call the White House — it would poison the controlled information and analysis being fed to the Americans through Agent Fishhook, whose role in the plan was its weakest and yet most vital element.

“I would advise against that, sir,” Dretzski said, feeling very uneasy. “The whole point of this exercise, this experiment, is to see if an unalerted America knows we are coming. As suggested, if they do not, we have proved a capability. If they do, we have identified flaws to fix—”

“Very risky. Colonel. And Fasimov,” Yulenski said to the defense minister, “this sort of thing will never happen again without my express orders. We can’t conduct an open foreign policy if our generals and admirals are secretly playing with their toys. You people are tempting fate. I want to see Admiral Novskoyy this evening, Fasimov. Send him over, and you come also. We have some talking to do.”

“Sir,” Dretzski said, “Admiral Novskoyy is not in port.”

“Where the hell is he?”

“Sir, he is on a new attack submarine that went on sea trials under the icecap. He should be returning shortly before his fleet.”

“Why is he on a submarine under the ice? How can he monitor this exercise from there?”

Dretzski swallowed. If he said Novskoyy would surface and use Kaliningrad’s antennae, it would look too much like he had a command-and-control flagship, determining the destinies of his fleet. But if he lied and said Novskoyy couldn’t receive radio messages. Admiral Barisov would know it. A morsel of truth was needed.

“Again, sir,” Dretzski said, “Admiral Novskoyy felt that it would be best to get an unbiased opinion from an intelligence community that had no political obligations to him, someone completely impartial. That is why Naval Intelligence was not called in. The admiral wants the hard, cold truth, not a subordinate’s possible sugar-coating. He is intent on finding out any operational flaws in the fleet. He deliberately left it to keep his own opinions and biases out of the exercise evaluation and execution. He is looking for the negatives, and the KGB will help him find them.”

“Very well. Colonel,” Yulenski said. Dretzski suppressed a sigh of relief. Yulenski, it seemed, had bought the story, and with Yulenski went the others. Yulenski stood, suddenly in a hurry, the meat of the briefing over. He left the room, aides coming in to collect his briefing papers from the presentation.

As the members filed out Dretzski felt confident — until Admiral Mikhail Barisov materialized in front of him. Barisov, the Supreme Commander of the Pacific Fleet, was young for his job although he did not look it — thin to the point of gauntness, deep lines showing in his face, hair completely gray. Barisov had spent his youth in the submarine force, arriving for duty fresh out of the Marshal Grechko Higher Naval School of Underwater Navigation the same year that Yuri Gagarin had been launched into orbit. After twenty years in the submarine fleet, having commanded the VICTOR III submarine Volgograd, Barisov had cross-decked to the surface fleet and had commanded a destroyer, a cruiser and a helicopter/VTOL aircraft carrier. What followed were several dull years in the Moscow Defense Ministry, mostly spent fighting office politics, until Admiral Gorshkov had promoted him and given him command of the Pacific Fleet. Barisov stared into the eyes of this weaselly KGB officer, wondering why he was covering for Novskoyy.

“Dretzski, what’s the real story on this deployment?” Dretzski tried to look confused. Barisov began asking questions, a prosecutor doing a cross-examination. Dretzski tried to handle them calmly, all the while thinking that something might have to be done about Barisov. An aircraft accident on the way back to Vladivostok…?

Admiral Novskoyy heard a knock at his door, looked up from his decryption of the last incoming message marked PERSONAL FOR FLEET COMMANDER. Quickly he stowed the message and the attack-profile chart, then let Captain Vlasenko into the stateroom. Novskoyy turned his back on the captain and returned to the table. Vlasenko sat in front of it.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Admiral, we have been at the polynya now for two days. Isn’t it time we went forward with the sea-trial agenda?”

Novskoyy stared at Vlasenko a moment. “The sea-trial agenda is postponed. Something urgent has come up. Fleet business. We may be here another week.”

Vlasenko’s insides turned over. “Then, sir, we should shut down the turbine room. There is no sense in keeping the engines warm if we are going to sit here—”

“No, I want to be able to move quickly, I need flexibility. There is no predicting when the ice around the polynya may shift and threaten to crush us. We need to be able to run if we have to.”

Vlasenko hesitated. He could not confront Novskoyy with what he had found out. That would land him in a locked storage compartment. He reached for an alterative course. He could sabotage the radio-transmission gear at the base of the radio multifrequency antenna. Racking out perhaps five drawers and severing connections, perhaps pocketing some key components and destroying the spares. Of course, with Novskoyy on the control-compartment communications console, the tampering would be detected before he would be able to damage the gear beyond repair. There might be no way he could prevent the admiral from transmitting his message to the fleet. At least, Vlasenko was convinced, the operation was not on automatic. No one would actually launch unless Novskoyy transmitted his go-code. Otherwise, why would they be surfaced here? The ship was being used as a flagship. Which meant the only way to stop the time-on-target strike or threat of a strike… was to sequester Novskoyy. If necessary… kill him.

Vlasenko stood, turned and left. Novskoyy returned to his message from Colonel Dretzski in Moscow:

Novskoyy read the message again, then shredded it in Vlasenko’s shredding machine. He consulted his calendar. With a decent speed-of-advance, his fleet should be off the coast of the U.S. in two days — by the 20th of December. What remained was for Agent Fishhook, General Tyler, to hold off the U.S. submarine force long enough for his ships to get in position.