“So, you work for the CIA, but the organizations you interface with think you’re working for them. Isn’t that the classic definition of a double agent?”
Khalila shrugged her shoulders. “Call it what you will. But I don’t think I cleanly fit any of the CIA officer or agent definitions.”
Harrison recalled Pat Kendall’s comment in the elevator; that the DDO didn’t completely trust Khalila. He now understood why. Khalila was burning the candle at both ends, with the people on one side of the candle being wrong about her true allegiance. Still, this couldn’t be the first time the CIA had to work their way through this kind of dilemma. He figured the Directorate of Operations, or perhaps Analysis, had ways of ferreting things out.
“Memorize everything in these packets before you land,” Durrani instructed.
Khalila leaned back in her chair, kicked off her shoes, and propped her feet atop the seat in front of her, placing her long legs in clear view, her skirt inching up her thighs. She caught Harrison checking out her legs.
“Focus,” she said, pointing to the packets of information. She interlaced her fingers across her waist and closed her eyes. “Let me know if you have any questions.”
18
K-561 KAZAN
Captain First Rank Aleksandr Plecas stood in Kazan’s Forward Bridge cockpit in the sail, monitoring his submarine’s outbound transit as it trailed behind the icebreaker Taymyr. Large fragments of coastal ice, broken apart by the icebreaker, drifted by as both ships plodded through the Murmansk Fjord. Although the Russian ports along the Kola Peninsula were considered “ice free” year-round due to the warm North Atlantic Current, the coastal areas often iced over during the frigid winter months. But the ice remained thin, easily broken.
A bone-chilling gust of Arctic wind swirled inside the Forward Bridge cockpit, mixing with the warm air rising up the Bridge trunk. The contrasting temperatures reminded Plecas of the conflict swirling inside him. It was good to be underway again. This was what he joined the Navy for — taking submarines to sea. What his crew would do at the end of their journey, however, was not how he envisioned his career would end.
After graduating twenty-eight years ago from Grechko Naval Academy in St. Petersburg, Plecas had been assigned to Russia’s newest Project 971 submarine, dubbed by the West as an Akula II. He had alternated between attack and ballistic missile submarines during his career, and was Russia’s most experienced commanding officer, having just completed a three-year tour in command of Gepard, the most advanced Project 971 nuclear attack submarine, sometimes referred to as an Akula III.
Now in command of Kazan, Plecas was taking the submarine on its first deployment. However, what he had in mind was quite different from the planned Mediterranean display-the-flag patrol of Russia’s newest military hardware. His thoughts went to his submarine’s armament. Yesterday’s weapon loadout had gone smoothly and Kazan was now fully armed, its vertical launch tubes loaded with twenty Kalibr land-attack cruise missiles and sixteen Oniks anti-ship missiles, plus a full torpedo room. Although firing torpedoes wasn’t part of his plan, their employment might be required.
Plecas brought his binoculars to his eyes, scanning the horizon. Aside from Taymyr, there were no ships in sight, but that didn’t assuage his concern. The real threat to Kazan lurked beneath the ocean waves. The United States kept at least one fast attack submarine in the Barents Sea at all times, and Kazan’s loadouts would have been observed by American satellites. Plecas figured there was no higher priority than trailing Russia’s newest guided missile submarine during its deployment.
The Navigating Officer’s voice emanated from the speaker on the Bridge Communications Panel. “Captain, Navigating Officer. Ten kilometers to the dive point.”
Plecas’s eyes went to Taymyr and the thin layer of ice ahead. They would break through in thirty minutes, reaching water deep enough to submerge moments later. He slipped the microphone from the communications panel and acknowledged the report, then turned to his Watch Officer beside him.
“Transfer the watch below deck.”
The Watch Officer passed the word over the shipwide announcing system. After a final glance at the surrounding ice- and snow-covered shores along the Murmansk Fjord, Plecas stepped from the Bridge cockpit and climbed down the ladder into the warmth of Kazan’s interior.
Thirty minutes later, the submarine’s new Watch Officer, stationed in the submarine’s Central Command Post in Compartment Two, reported Kazan was ready to submerge. All hatch and hull openings were sealed, and communication antennas lowered. Only the Search Periscope — the forward one of two periscopes — was raised, manned by the Junior Watch Officer, circling slowly with his face against the eyepiece.
“Report status,” Plecas ordered his Watch Officer.
“We are on course zero-one-zero, ahead standard,” Captain Lieutenant Ivan Urnovitz replied. “Hydroacoustic holds one contact, Taymyr, the only contact held visually. Electronic Surveillance reports no threat radars. Water depth is one hundred meters. We are ready to dive, Captain.”
Plecas ordered, “Submerge to fifty meters, then turn to course zero-seven-zero.”
19
USS PITTSBURGH
Just off the coast of Russia’s Kola Peninsula, USS Pittsburgh cruised eastward at periscope depth. Lieutenant Bob Martin, on watch as Officer of the Deck, rotated the port periscope slowly, his right eye pressed against the eyepiece. As the scope optics swung to the south, Martin shifted the periscope to high power for a detailed scan of Kola Bay, the exit point for Russian warships stationed in ports along the shores of the Murmansk Fjord. He paused at the fjord entrance and pressed the doubler, increasing the periscope magnification to maximum.
Still nothing.
This morning’s intelligence message reported that Russia’s newest guided missile submarine, K-561 Kazan, would likely head to sea today. Satellites had monitored Kazan’s crew loading supplies and weapons, and the submarine’s nuclear reactor had been brought on-line — all solid indicators that Kazan was preparing to deploy.
Where Kazan was headed was what COMSUBLANT wanted to know, and Pittsburgh had been tasked to find out: gain trail on Kazan as she emerged from Kola Bay and follow her until she exited the Barents Sea. There were a few options regarding Kazan’s destination, with the leading contenders being west toward the GIUK Gap — a naval choke point between Greenland and the United Kingdom, with Iceland in the middle — for an Atlantic Ocean or Mediterranean Sea deployment, or north under the ice for transfer to Russia’s Pacific Fleet.
Anywhere was fine with Martin, as long as there was something to trail. There was nothing more boring than walking round and round on the periscope for hours on end, scouring the horizon for contacts. Trailing submarines was far more exciting, and Martin hoped to be the one to snag Kazan. He had only one week left. Pittsburgh was nearing the end of its Northern Run, and USS Boise was already en route from Norfolk to relieve Pittsburgh in the Barents Sea.