“That was a most unfortunate decision by Mitra,” growled Dhankhar quietly. “A senior Russian naval officer with submarine experience could be a significant risk to our plan. What did this Petrov tell the SVR agent?”
Singh ran down the list of questions and responses about Chakra’s refit during the meeting. It was clear that Petrov thought that the refit’s priorities were skewed and there was a lot of work to do in very little time. Singh then concluded with some of the agent’s personal observations. “He noted that Mr. Petrov seemed particularly whiny about conflicting work requirements and safety issues, and that he was visibly angry about those aspects of the refit.”
“All that means is that Petrov is a competent engineer and manager. His concerns about the refit have been echoed by many of my own people,” remarked Dhankhar. “They aren’t pleased with the changes I’ve made as well. Any indication Petrov is aware of the true nature of Chakra’s modifications?”
“No, sir. Nothing leaps out from the report; he seems to be mostly concerned with managing the entire confused effort — very much a big-picture man. Although, our agent was not happy with the SVR officer when he went beyond the prearranged plan. He showed Petrov a picture of a Russian national, who apparently is supporting the refit. Petrov didn’t recognize the photo, but he was familiar with the name: Evgeni Orlav.”
At the mention of Orlav’s name, Dhankhar’s blood ran cold. The SVR agent’s presence demonstrated that the Russians suspected something, but what? Did they know about their plan? Had they somehow managed to track down Kirichenko or one of his minions? For the first time, Dhankhar felt fear. This couldn’t be just a coincidence, could it? The Indian admiral struggled to keep his cool as he asked, “What did Petrov say?”
“That he hadn’t seen Orlav, nor was it likely he would given his duties. Petrov didn’t seem concerned about the man because he hadn’t heard any complaints from Orlav’s Indian supervisor. Petrov claimed he didn’t have the time to deal with issues that didn’t require his attention. However, the SVR officer did ask Petrov to keep his eyes open. There was an implicit request by the SVR agent to contact him if he came upon anything.”
“I see,” replied Dhankhar quietly. “Thank you, Shiv, for this information. I’d appreciate a copy of the official report as soon as it is completed. Oh, and please alert the four councilmen of this incident. They should be aware as well.”
“Yes, sir. I will do so immediately. Good-bye, Admiral.”
As Dhankhar put his smart card away, he realized his hands were cool and clammy. His heart was beating at a rapid pace. The possibility of discovery when they were so close to completing their task was unnerving and unacceptable. Their goal was vital, but the situation was hazy and unclear. The Russians were asking dangerous questions, but the casual manner of the interrogation suggested they didn’t really know what was going on. Could it just be a coincidence after all? He really didn’t know much about Kirichenko and his people. An overreaction now could be just as deadly as doing nothing at all.
Dhankhar looked at his watch and then picked up his cell phone. It was time he made another call.
7
INVESTIGATORS
Petrov sat with Anton Kulik, one of the technicians working on the sonar system upgrade. Today he’d been installing new signal-processing boards for the main hull array. Since the sonar cabinets were located in the first compartment, Kulik was one of the few team members who actually interacted with Orlav, as he sometimes worked in the torpedo room, located on the deck above.
“When he’s there at all,” Kulik explained as they ate their lunch. They were in Chakra’s mess deck. Because of the refit, the galley itself was closed, but the Russians had made sure the air conditioning aboard the boat still worked. Even in March, the air outside was a sticky eighty-five degrees Fahrenheit. The mess was sized to feed forty men, so there was plenty of room for the small group of Russian technicians to eat their “tiffins,” boxed lunches bought from vendors or restaurants on the way to work. The British had started the practice in the colonial era and invented the word, but it had become a habit for many Indian workers, and the Russians had quickly adopted the practice. Curried vegetables, rice, and flatbread made a satisfying lunch, especially since most of the Russians either were bachelors or had left their wives back in Russia.
“I’ve brought Orlav a takeout dinner every night for two weeks now.” Working in the same compartment, they were on speaking terms, but Kulik said that Orlav wasn’t really close with any of his countrymen.
“He’s been working that hard? And nobody’s helping him?”
“We’re all busy,” Kulik replied, “but at the last planning meeting Shvetov asked Captain Mitra about Orlav’s progress and his deadline. By rights, Orlav should be reporting to Shvetov, or at least Commander Gandhi. Shvetov is the team leader, after all, but Mitra told Shvetov that Orlav wasn’t his concern, and that his work was a ‘separate project.’ That’s got to be their new missile, the Sagarika.”
“Sagarika is a ballistic missile,” Petrov answered. “You can’t fire it from a torpedo tube.”
“Then they’re using their new Nirbhay cruise missile, or perhaps one of the missile types we’ve supplied to them, like the Klub, and gluing a nuclear warhead on the front. The Klub is fired like a torpedo.” Kulik brightened. “That makes sense. We have to give them technical help on so many other things, so they hired Orlav to do that. What have you found out?”
The question caught Petrov off guard. “Me? What have I found out?”
“Come on! You’ve been pumping me about Orlav the entire meal.” Kulik shrugged. “I don’t mind, but fair’s fair. You have to tell me what you’ve discovered.” He noticed Petrov’s hesitation. “It’s all right. I know you’re curious about what he’s working on. So am I. Everyone on the team is, although we may be the only two who have actually figured it out,” he added with a conspiratorial air.
Petrov hadn’t realized his inquiries had been that transparent. That worried him a little bit, but meanwhile Kulik was waiting for an answer.
“I am curious,” Petrov admitted. “I guess I’m a little concerned about what it means if you’re right.” That was at least half true.
“I’ll tell you what it means,” Kulik answered confidently. “Karachi? BOOM. Hyderabad? BOOM. Quetta? BOOM.”
“If the Indians were to use nuclear weapons, the Pakistanis would as well,” Petrov argued.
“Don’t I know it!” Kulik agreed. “And Vizag would be a great target — a major naval base, and catch Arihant while she’s still being repaired. Since the bomb went off in Kashmir, everyone’s been on edge, with good reason. Something’s going to happen, and it won’t be good. The instant we’re done here, I’m on the first plane going anywhere west. Not east. I don’t want to be caught in the fallout pattern.”
After finishing their meal, they both returned to their work, and even though he was busy, Petrov kept running the conversation over in his head. He’d learned nothing new. What occupied his mind was that his interest in Orlav had been so obvious. He’d tried to be subtle, but obviously failed miserably.