The sonar-phone bleeped but no-one picked it up. Many were suffering from a lack of oxygen, with most sitting and some lying full length on the floor of the submarine. Eventually the XO reached for the phone, his actions slow and laboured. He listened for a second before passing it to the Captain. ‘It’s the rescue module, for you.’
The Captain held the handset to his ear, trying desperately to keep focused. After a minute he replied with a terse ‘thank you’ and handed the phone back.
At the same time they heard clanging noises from above. Captain White assumed the Pressurised Rescue Module was attempting to mate with the exterior hatchway of the escape trunk. A ragged cheer went up from the subdued crew. The Captain had previously decided that the first group of men in the trunk should be able-bodied. He expected the PRM would lower oxygen cylinders and medicines, giving the sick some immediate relief and making preparations for their rescue easier.
The sounds continued, followed by a sharp hiss of escaping air. For a few moments silence descended. Every man listened out for the sound of the access hatch being opened. Then they heard it — the slight hiss as air pressure in the submarine and PRM equalised and the clang of the hatch being secured. There was another, stronger cheer.
The group in the escape trunk reached up to take the cylinders of oxygen and portable CO2 scrubbers as they were lowered down to them. Two minutes later a man descended from the hatchway and crawled over recumbent bodies into the body of the sub. He crossed to where the Captain and XO sat, backs propped against the bulkhead. Crouching, he saluted smartly.
‘Navy Diver Peters, sir.’
Captain White struggled to sit upright. ‘We’re mighty glad to see you, Peters. What do you want us to do?’
‘I see you’re ready for us. Once the first party are aboard the PRM please could you get the second group together? If you have any injured, include them. Use the sonar phone to let the doc know top-side what kind of injuries to expect. Turn-around time is about an hour. I’m leaving a medic with full kit down here. Is there anything more you need from us?’
‘No, thank you Peters. Let’s get moving.’
After a sign from the Captain the sixteen men waiting in the chamber began to climb the ladder to the cylinder above. When all had left, both hatches were closed and locked. On a signal the PRM detached itself from the dock, and the crane on LK-80 hauled the cylinder up from the depths.
‘Thank God, Captain’ said the XO.
‘Let’s thank him when we’re on the surface’ responded the Captain.
Levushka looked down at the clothes he was wearing. The blood stains on his shirt and jacket had dried, leaving a lurid red sash splashed across his chest.
Sean studied the youth. He had lost the pale complexion from earlier, but still looked bewildered by the events of the morning. They were in a safe house, and a member of the Embassy and a doctor were present. ‘The doctor will examine you, just to check that you are OK. Then you can have a shower. Is that OK?’
Levushka bowed his head and submitted meekly to the doctor’s inspection. After several minutes he packed away his BP monitor and stethoscope and handed Levushka some pills. He spoke to Sean. ‘He’ll do. I’ve given him some Valium which should ease the symptoms of shock. Physically he’s fine.’
‘Thanks Doc. Glad to hear the news.’
Sean spoke to Levushka in Russian. ‘Lev, the doctor says you’re OK.’
‘I know what he said,’ Levushka replied irritably in good English. ‘And I’m not a cripple.’
‘I’m Sean. I was sent by your father Alexei to ask if you would come to the UK to be with him.’
There was no reaction from Levushka. Sean looked at the man from the Embassy. He shrugged.
‘Well, why don’t you grab a shower, and we’ll talk afterwards?’ There’s a fresh set of clothes in the bedroom upstairs.
While Levushka was in the shower, DD turned to Sean. ‘Do you think Lomax will be OK?’
‘He’s as tough as old boots.’
DD cleared his throat. ‘He looked dead to me.’
‘No, I caught a good view. He was breathing when I saw him.’
‘Will they, you know, kill him?’
Sean pondered the question. ‘I don’t think so. He’s too valuable to them.’
‘Will they torture him?’
‘Probably. He felt they would take out the first one to shoot. That’s why he led the charge.’
‘You mean, he deliberately sacrificed himself?’ DD sounded incredulous.
‘Yep. You were there when we argued about it. You know how adamant he was. I was to escort Levushka to the airport. He said I was the agent and that he had seniority.’
‘Bloody hell. I didn’t realise you were tossing a coin to see who would get killed first!’
There was a moment’s silence before Sean spoke again. ‘I’m depending on you to get us through airport security. Can you do it?’
‘I have an idea.’
‘It had better be a bloody good one, then.’
Before DD could respond, Levushka entered the room.
‘You look much better,’ Sean commented. The clean clothes helped, and there was more colour to his cheeks. Sean glanced at DD. ‘If you need to make any preparations, I suggest you leave now.’
‘Good idea, boss,’ said DD, already moving to the door.
Sean turned back to Levushka. ‘Come and sit here.’ He indicated a chair. ‘Some time ago, Alexei bought you a dog. Do you remember that?’
Levushka started pulling a small thread in his sweat top. He nodded slowly.
‘Do you remember the dog’s name?’
The young man nodded again. ‘What’s that got to do with seeing my father?’
‘Your father told me about the dog. He said you would remember his name — do you?’
Levushka raised his eyes to Sean. ‘Petra.’
‘Thank you. And what happened to Petra?’
‘He died in a road accident. Some kid racing his car.’
‘You passed the test’ said Sean lightly. ‘Seriously, your Dad would like to see you, but only if you want to go.’
The lad shrugged his shoulders. ‘When?’
‘Now — straight away. Soon they will discover you have gone missing. Then they’ll be on the lookout for you at the airport. I’m sorry, but if we don’t move now, you may never get out.’
‘I see. Will my mum be allowed to come?’
‘Not for a while. Maybe when this blows over, she could come and visit.’
‘Can I send her stuff — you know, email, Facebook, that kind of thing?’
‘Yes, you should be able to do that. But we have to go now.’
The call came from the Russian air-force headquarters based in Zarya, some 20 km north of the centre of Moscow. Vladislav Kamenev, the Deputy Prime Minister, was asleep in bed. Vladislav grabbed his dressing gown and went into the empty bedroom next door, so as not to disturb his wife. He glanced at the clock: 01:13 am. The caller updated him on the situation in the Arctic, and he knew he would not get any more sleep that night.
His first reaction was to phone the President immediately. Instead he paused a moment to consider the circumstances. The crisis was coming to a head and now the Kremlin had a perfect excuse to avenge the American’s detention of their air crews. Vladislav picked up the handset. After a three minute wait he was put through to President Pavla Duskin.
‘What exactly did the pilot say?’ Duskin’s voice was calm.
‘American forces are using the icebreaker to rescue members of their submarine.’
‘In spite of my orders?’
‘Yes. The pilot didn’t get to speak to the Captain; instead he talked to the chief engineer. He said that they had radio problems, and didn’t receive the order. Anyway, the Captain offered his ship.’