“While we assist Russia in peeling this onion, my recommendation is to place our Atlantic Fleet on alert, focused on protecting our high-value warships — our carriers — from a potential torpedo or missile attack, and put a full-court press on finding Kazan.”
“You mentioned that we’d be assisting Russia on this issue,” Christine said. “Have specific arrangements been made?”
The president answered this time. “The Russians are working most of the leads — interviewing the crew’s families and friends, plus reviewing the submarine’s deployment preparations. So far, nothing noteworthy has been identified regarding any of Kazan’s crew aside from its commanding officer, who up to this point had a stellar, unblemished career and had been handpicked to take Kazan on its first deployment.
“Regarding who is ultimately responsible — who paid for the drug treatment — President Kalinin has agreed to accept our assistance due to the possibility Kazan might target the United States or a NATO ally, plus Kazan’s likely attack on Pittsburgh.
“That’s where you come in, Christine. If we can identify who paid for the daughter’s treatment, we might be able to discern the target. When it comes to corruption or terrorism, there’s an adage — follow the money. Five million dollars had to leave a trail. Find it.”
37
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
In the U.S. Navy compound off Terminal Road, Vice Admiral Bill Andrea — Commander, Submarine Forces (COMSUBFOR) — was reviewing the latest proposals on his desk when there was a knock on his door. Andrea acknowledged and Captain Rick Current, his chief of staff, entered, holding a folder with a Top Secret coversheet.
“This just in from Fleet Forces Command,” Current announced as he entered, handing the folder to Andrea.
Andrea read the message, noting the two items classified Top Secret: the assessment that USS Pittsburgh was sunk by Kazan, and that the Russian submarine’s crew was likely following counterfeit orders drafted by its commanding officer. The directive section of the message was fairly straightforward and was summed up in Andrea’s mind in two words.
Find Kazan.
COMSUBFOR had been assigned the lead, responsible for coordinating all Atlantic Fleet Anti-Submarine Warfare assets: submarine, surface ship, and air.
Andrea looked up at his chief of staff. “We need to put someone in charge of this effort. What are our options?”
Current ran down the list of senior Atlantic Fleet submarine officers, then recommended someone not on it. “All of these men are capable, but I recommend we assign Captain Murray Wilson. He’s attached to a PAC Fleet submarine, but it’s currently in the shipyard for repairs, so he’s available. If you recall, he led a similar effort to locate Kentucky when she received the unauthorized launch order.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Andrea replied, recalling Wilson’s effort.
Wilson was the most senior captain in the Submarine Force, having commanded the fast attack submarine USS Buffalo, and was now in command of the guided missile submarine USS Michigan, BLUE crew. In between the two command tours, he’d been the senior Submarine Command Course instructor, spending three years training every officer assigned to serve as a submarine commanding or executive officer. A few years ago, when COMSUBPAC had been tagged with coordinating a Fleet-wide effort to locate USS Kentucky, Wilson had led the successful effort.
“Coordinate with PAC to get Wilson over here as soon as possible.”
38
BREMERTON, WASHINGTON
A light rain was falling as Captain Murray Wilson descended the concrete steps into the drydock at Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, a green foul-weather jacket protecting him from the Pacific Northwest’s inclement weather. Waiting at the bottom of the drydock was Bill Sullivan, the shipyard supervisor assigned to the submarine’s repair effort. Michigan had arrived at the shipyard three months ago, after a torpedo had blown a hole in its Missile Compartment.
While in the Black Sea, Michigan had been engaged by three Russian submarines and sank two, but a Russian torpedo had returned the favor, sending Michigan to the bottom. Fortunately, Michigan sank in shallow water and none of the intact compartments had imploded. Additionally, the service and emergency air banks had been fully charged, and Wilson’s crew had pressurized the flooded compartment, blowing enough water back out of the hole for Michigan to rise from the bottom and engage the remaining Russian submarine.
The shipyard had just completed welding a hull patch, replacing the damaged section, which had been cut out, and few things made submariners queasier than having to take a submarine with a patched-up pressure hull down to Test Depth for the first time.
Sullivan escorted Wilson along the drydock, stopping amidships for a clear view of the hull patch. The coverings protecting the repair site from the elements had been kept in place, as had the scaffolding, providing the radiographers access to the welds. The hull patch hadn’t been painted yet — it was just plain metal — and would remain so until the welds had been certified.
“How’s the rest of the boat coming along?” Wilson asked.
Wilson spoke in submarine vernacular out of habit, referring to his submarine as a boat. He had learned early in his career that an easy way to insult Surface Warfare officers was to refer to their ships as boats. He’d heard the response often—It’s not a boat, it’s a ship. The only boat we have is the Captain’s gig. However, submariners used the term affectionately. Although their submarine was technically a Navy ship, to them it was just the boat.
The inside of the boat — the Missile Compartment specifically — was still in pieces. In the Black Sea, they had blown most of the water from the compartment, and the electrical cables and essential components, which were designed to withstand full submergence pressure, had worked in the critical hours while engaging the last Russian submarine. However, there had still been six feet of water in the bilges, well above the lower level deck plates, and by the time Michigan pulled into the shipyard for repair, electrical shorts had begun plaguing the submarine. The corrosive effect of the seawater had begun taking its toll.
After evaluating the damage, the Navy decided to replace all of the wetted electrical cabling and equipment utilizing spare components, much of which had been in deep stow for twenty-five years, manufactured as the Ohio class construction program wound down in the 1990s. After three months in the shipyard, the rip-out was complete and they had begun installing and testing the replacement components, which would take a few more months.
Wilson spotted the submarine’s duty officer hustling down the drydock steps with a classified message, which he handed to Wilson after catching up to the two men. Wilson was surprised at the message — he was being temporarily assigned to COMSUBFOR, directed to report no later than 8 a.m. tomorrow.
“Where are you going?”
Claire leaned against the doorframe, surprised to find her husband home from work early.
Wilson looked up from packing his suitcase. “Norfolk. I’ve been temporarily assigned to COMSUBFOR.”