Tatiana was one of nine children and Plecas one of six, and both had looked forward to having a large family. That hadn’t been in the cards, however. Tatiana had difficulty getting pregnant, and after twenty years of trying everything, including in vitro fertilization, they had finally accepted their fate.
A year later, Tatiana became pregnant with Natasha. Their miracle baby, Tatiana still called her, and the joy she had brought to their lives had been immeasurable. Natasha’s illness had been a devastating blow, threatening to take away their only child. Plecas was convinced that Tatiana, like himself, would do anything to save her. He knew Tatiana would forgive him for what he was about to do. The Russian government, however, would not.
Plecas was jarred from his thoughts by a subtle change in the deck’s vibration. The submarine’s main engines were straining a bit more than normal.
He bid farewell to Noskov, then proceeded aft to investigate.
53
SERENDIPITY
Sixty miles south of the Cayman Islands, Marc Manis leaned forward in the Captain’s chair aboard Serendipity, an eighty-foot stern trawler, adjusting the vessel’s course to keep station with its sister ship, Karma, four hundred yards to starboard. Both trawlers were headed northwest, cutting through sea-state-two wavelets barely one foot tall, traveling beneath a cloudless night sky with the temperature in the low eighties, accompanied by a light westerly breeze.
It all added up to a beautiful night for fishing. Serendipity and Karma were pair-trawling for tuna, towing a large net between them: eight hundred feet wide by five hundred feet deep, pelagic trawling through the mid-water column where the tuna were. They had been out to sea for a week and the haul thus far had been excellent, both in quantity and size, with the tuna stored in a refrigerated compartment below deck. Each fishing expedition, Manis wagered an under/over bet with his crew regarding the size of the largest fish they’d catch, with Manis always taking the over bet. Thus far, however, the largest tuna had been a few pounds shy of winning.
Serendipity’s 450 horsepower engine suddenly eased up, catching Manis’s attention. He leaned out the bridge side window, noting that the port warp — one of two tow cables attached to this side of the net — had gone slack.
Damn it!
Manis set Serendipity on autopilot and hustled aft, joining the trawler’s first mate, Kirk Murphy, who was staring at the tow cables — both had gone slack. It looked like the net had broken free of both warps. Karma would have to reel the net back in, with both trawlers returning to port for a replacement net.
Manis was about to head to the bridge to contact Karma when the tow cables dragged across the transom to the starboard side of the trawler, tension returning to the warps. Serendipity’s stern started swinging around, twisting the trawler one-eighty until it was traveling backward. To starboard, Karma was also swinging around, being pulled stern-first through the water.
Aboard Serendipity, the Gilson winches the warps were attached to began smoking as they strained against the tow cables pulling the eighty-foot trawler backward at an increasing speed.
Serendipity was a rugged, seaworthy trawler, but it wasn’t designed to travel backward at high speed, and water surged over the transom, flooding the deck and streaming into the compartments below.
Kirk Murphy probably had no idea about what was going on, but Manis knew immediately what had happened. He had caught this type of fish before.
“Release the warps!”
They needed to cut the tow lines, and fast.
Seven years ago, Manis had been aboard a trawler that had snagged a nuclear-powered submarine and the trawler had gone under. Although the captain had been able to get off a Mayday distress call and the Coast Guard had rescued the crew, it was an experience he would never forget.
Manis called down to Dan Metzger, Serendipity’s chief engineer, to start the bilge pumps, but Metzger was already on it and the bilge pumps rumbled to life. Unfortunately, the pumps couldn’t handle the amount of water rushing over the stern. Their only hope was to release the warps before Serendipity flooded or got pulled under if the submarine went deeper.
He returned his attention to the Gilson winches, as John Lojko, the lead foreman, disengaged one while Murphy tackled the other. The two winches began free-spinning, releasing the warps.
Serendipity slowed as the tow cables paid out, until both warps whipped free. The trawler drifted to a halt before moving forward again, its bow swinging around; Manis had left the engines running and the ship was still on autopilot, returning Serendipity to base course and speed.
Manis took a deep breath as his pulse began to slow.
That had been a close call, one that could have ended in disaster.
Manis praised Murphy and Lojko for their excellent response during the emergency, then relayed the same to Metzger once the bilge pumps went quiet. As Manis returned to the bridge, he realized that despite the trawler’s name, this hadn’t been their lucky night.
Then another thought occurred to him. He had definitely won the under/over bet on the largest fish they’d catch.
54
K-561 KAZAN
Aleksandr Plecas stood in the Central Command Post, arms folded across his chest, waiting for the watch section to complete preparations to proceed to periscope depth. It had been three hours since Kazan became snared in a trawler’s net, and Plecas had been waiting until conditions were right — no contacts nearby that could spot the Russian submarine on the surface. It was still dark outside—1 a.m. local — and Kazan wouldn’t energize its navigation lights, so the odds of the black submarine being spotted in the dark water were low. Plecas was being cautious, nonetheless.
Kazan’s Watch Officer, Captain Lieutenant Urnovitz, ordered, “Hydroacoustic, Command Post. Report all contacts within ten thousand meters.”
“Command Post, Hydroacoustic. Hold no contacts.”
Urnovitz turned to Plecas. “Captain, request permission to proceed to periscope depth.”
Plecas approved the request, with a modification to the normal procedure. “Hover to periscope depth.”
The change in procedure was required because the trawler net had become wrapped around Kazan’s screw, which not only interfered with efficient propulsion, but resulted in numerous loud tonals and broadband noise being transmitted into the surrounding water. Kazan was at all stop, and could not proceed on its mission without cutting the net free.
Fortunately, Russian submarines, like American ones, had crew members trained as divers, who came in handy during emergency situations such as this. Two divers were waiting by the hatch in Compartment One, standing by to egress from the submarine once it surfaced and Plecas verified there was no risk of taking water down the hatch.
“Raising forward periscope,” Urnovitz announced.
The scope rose slowly from its well, and Urnovitz placed his eye against the facepiece, then ordered the ascent.
“Compensation Officer, hover to fifteen meters.”