Sonar kept pinging as they chased the Russian submarine, and Buglione watched the range intently. After a few more pings, he smiled. They were slowly gaining on Kazan.
They kept closing: six thousand yards, then five thousand yards.
Kazan launched another jammer and a decoy, followed by a radical course change. But Pittsburgh held Kazan on active sonar and ignored the decoy, then blazed past the jammer, turning to match Kazan’s new course.
Four thousand yards.
They still hadn’t detected Kazan on the towed array again due to the propulsion noise Pittsburgh generated at ahead flank. However, the spherical array in the bow had a clear view and once they were close enough, Sonar made the expected report.
“Conn, Sonar. Gained fifty Hertz tonal on the spherical array, designated Sierra seven-six, bearing two-six-zero. Correlates to Master one.”
Schwartz compared the new tonal to those from Master one, then confirmed Sonar’s conclusion. “Reclassify Sierra seven-six as Master one.”
Kazan was three thousand yards away now.
Buglione ordered, “Secure active sonar.”
Shortly thereafter, Kazan tried to break trail again, launching another set of acoustic countermeasures and altering course. The Russian submarine’s new course was quickly determined and Pittsburgh followed.
As Pittsburgh kept gaining on Kazan, Buglione evaluated the optimum trail range. As far as normal tactics went, the jig was up. The Russian crew was aware they were being followed, so there was no reason for Pittsburgh to try to maintain stealth by trailing at maximum range. Following far behind improved the odds Kazan would successfully evade in the future. It was better to follow Kazan at the minimum safety range.
Buglione kept Pittsburgh at ahead flank until they closed to two thousand yards.
Kazan suddenly slowed.
Buglione didn’t have time for the Fire Control Tracking Party to determine a new solution. Pittsburgh was traveling at ahead flank and needed to slow. But to what speed? He evaluated the frequency shift on the display, estimating Kazan’s new speed. It looked like the Russian submarine had slowed to ten knots.
“Helm, ahead two-thirds.”
A moment later, Schwartz confirmed Buglione’s mental calculation. “Confirm target zig. Master one has slowed to ten knots. No change in course.”
Buglione waited for the Russian captain’s next move. One minute turned into five, then ten. But Kazan remained steady on course and speed with Pittsburgh trailing close behind. Buglione relaxed. It looked like the Russian captain had accepted defeat—Pittsburgh had broken Kazan like a cowboy breaking a horse.
At least for the time being. There was no doubt the Russian captain would attempt to evade again when the time and environmental conditions were ideal. Maybe late on the mid-watch when there was a strong thermal layer the Russian submarine could hide behind, gaining a few more precious minutes to open range before Pittsburgh’s crew figured things out.
If Buglione had anything to say about it, that wasn’t going to happen. For the duration of the Russian submarine’s deployment, Pittsburgh would be on Kazan like white on rice.
Aleksandr Plecas folded his arms across his chest, admitting defeat. The American submarine was capable and its crew well trained, and he had learned during his career that Americans were persistent, if nothing else.
However, it was imperative that Kazan not be trailed during its journey. If a hostile submarine was nearby when Kazan commenced launching its missiles, it would likely attack. That was something Plecas could not allow. Although his fate was sealed — he would spend the rest of his life in prison upon his return to Russia — he had a responsibility to his crew, to not place them in harm’s way any more than necessary. That meant—Kazan could not be trailed.
Plecas left the Central Command Post and entered his stateroom. He closed and locked his door, then opened his safe, retrieving the yellow envelope delivered to his submarine a few days ago, containing Kazan’s classified patrol order. He opened and removed the order, replacing it with a counterfeit version he pulled from his leather satchel.
He returned to the Central Command Post with the order and stopped beside the navigation table. He called to his First Officer. When Fedorov joined him, Plecas pulled the fake patrol order from the envelope and handed it to his second-in-command. Fedorov’s eyes grew wide when he read the salient portion of the directive.
Fedorov looked up. “You share this with me just now?”
“Those were my orders,” Plecas replied. “I was directed to keep our mission a secret even from my crew until we deployed. As you can see, this is a very sensitive directive.”
Fedorov nodded numbly. “What is the rationale for the attack?”
“I will explain to the entire crew.” Plecas pulled a microphone from its holder, switching it to the shipwide communication circuit. “This is the Captain,” he announced.
“I want to commend all of you for your excellent job preparing Kazan for her maiden deployment. Your hard work and dedicated preparation did not go unnoticed by Northern Fleet Command, and I am proud to inform you that Kazan has been selected for a special mission.
“I know all of you have seen the videos. Images of the Russian Northern and Pacific Fleets destroyed by the American Navy — our surface ships on fire or oil slicks where they sank beneath the waves. You no doubt felt as I did; the shame of our failure, the anguish for our dead comrades, the anger and desire for revenge.
“We have been selected to inflict that revenge. We are not beginning a Mediterranean deployment. Instead, we will travel toward the United States, where we will launch our Kalibr missiles against twenty American targets. We will send a message, demonstrating that the Russian Navy is still a formidable foe, one that should be feared. A Navy that has a vast reach, capable of wreaking destruction deep into the interior of the United States.
“To ensure this mission is a success, we must conduct our missile launch without an American submarine or surface warship nearby that could attack and halt the launch, much less sink Kazan. That means we cannot be followed.
“We have tried to break the American submarine’s trail and have failed. We must now take a more aggressive measure. Northern Fleet Command has given me the authority to sink any vessel that threatens our mission.”
Plecas paused to let the implications sink in. They were going to engage the American submarine. His eyes moved slowly across the men at their workstations, looking for indications that any were hesitant to carry out the orders that would soon come.
There was no sign that any of the men had reservations. They stared back without emotion on their faces, awaiting direction.
Plecas gave the order.
“Man Combat Stations silently.”
31
K-561 KAZAN • USS PITTSBURGH
The two Command Post Messengers sped through the submarine, spreading the word to man Combat Stations. Three minutes later, Kazan was fully manned.