Chernov suppressed a smile.
North Dakota was America’s first Block III Virginia class submarine, armed with the latest tactical systems.
It could not have been more perfect.
24
After a short flight from Moscow, Boris Chernov entered the office of Fleet Admiral Georgiy Ivanov, prepared to discuss not only the directive he was carrying in his suit pocket, but another, more dangerous effort that would require the Admiral’s cooperation.
Chernov settled into the chair across from Ivanov. “These are difficult times,” he began. “Another Russian submarine has sunk, and the challenge we face is more difficult than Kursk. We do not know where Dolgoruky is.”
Ivanov replied, “You are not telling me anything I don’t already know. Get to the point.”
Chernov was taken aback by the Admiral’s brusque response, which he excused, given the circumstances. “I have discussed the situation with President Kalinin,” Chernov replied, “including what to do if the Americans reach Dolgoruky first.” He pulled the sealed envelope from his pocket and handed it to the Admiral.
Ivanov opened the envelope and read the instructions.
“I understand,” he replied. “I will draft the order myself and send it today.”
Chernov held out his hand. There could be no record of what Kalinin had ordered.
Ivanov hesitated, then folded the directive and placed it back in the envelope. “I could destroy it for you,” he said as he returned it.
Chernov said nothing as he slid the envelope into his pocket. There was a strained silence before he broached the second, more sensitive topic.
“There is something else I wish to discuss with you, Admiral.”
Ivanov said nothing, waiting for Chernov to continue.
“The American submarine that sank is their first Block III Virginia class, outfitted with their newest tactical systems. If we reach it first and evacuate the crew, we can harvest the submarine’s technology.” Chernov leaned forward in his chair. “We cannot let this opportunity slip through our fingers.”
Admiral Ivanov stared at Chernov dispassionately, giving no indication he was moved by Chernov’s plea. “What do you want, Boris?”
Chernov took a few minutes to explain his plan, finishing with, “If we are successful, all will be forgiven.”
The Admiral considered Chernov’s proposal. The assets required for the operation were under Ivanov’s command. If he failed, it would be his head on the chopping block.
Chernov tried to assure Ivanov there was no threat of incarceration. “I believe there is no risk to you other than your career. If things do not turn out well, I have no doubt Kalinin will fire you. But that will be the extent of the ramifications. Whether we succeed or fail, Kalinin will publicly deny our involvement while assuaging the Americans.”
After a long silence, Ivanov replied, “You are correct. We cannot let this opportunity pass. I will give the necessary orders.”
25
Captain Second Rank Josef Buffanov made his round through his submarine’s Central Command Post, stopping to review the last entry in the Deck Log.
Course: 000, Depth: 100 meters, Speed: 35 knots
Severodvinsk had been in the Barents Sea, headed to the Mediterranean for deployment, when Buffanov received new orders. They were now headed north at maximum speed, preparing to slip beneath the polar ice cap in search of Yury Dolgoruky.
K-329 Severodvinsk was a fourth-generation nuclear-powered submarine, the first of the new Yasen class. Built as a replacement for the Project 971-A attack and 949-A guided missile submarines, dubbed Akula and Oscar by the West, Severodvinsk’s technology was state-of-the-art. Outfitted with a new spherical array sonar, Severodvinsk was also equipped with upgraded flank arrays on the hull and more capable towed arrays. While the sensor suite of the Yasen class submarine was vastly improved, so was her armament. With ten torpedo tubes and eight vertical launchers, each of the latter carrying five antiship or land-attack cruise missiles, Severodvinsk was a formidable ship.
Severodvinsk’s First Officer, Captain Third Rank Anton Novikoff, entered the Command Post, joining Buffanov at the navigation table. Severodvinsk was approaching the Marginal Ice Zone, and they had to slow and set the ice watches before proceeding.
Captain Lieutenant Dmitri Ronin, the Watch Officer, approached the two men, addressing the submarine’s Captain. “I intend to slow and set the Ice Detail,” he said.
Buffanov gave his concurrence and Ronin ordered the submarine to slow to ten knots. As Severodvinsk slowed, its streaming antenna floated toward the ocean’s surface and they regained sync with the message broadcast.
“Command Post, Communication. Have received a Commanding Officer Only message.”
Buffanov entered the Communications Post and stopped by the two printers. “Ready.”
The radioman hit the print button and a message emerged from the left printer.
Buffanov read the message, then reread it. He glanced at the radioman, who was processing the rest of the messages they had downloaded. Buffanov folded the paper and slid it inside the breast pocket of his coveralls.
“Senior Michman,” Buffanov called out. The radioman turned in his direction. “Have we received new waterspace assignments?”
The radioman scrolled through the messages on his display. “Yes, Captain.” He selected the message and hit the print button, and a second sheet of paper slid from the printer.
Buffanov took the message and returned to the Command Post, without revealing his emotions. No doubt, his First Officer and the watchstanders were wondering about the Commanding Officer Only message. The time would come when he would reveal Severodvinsk’s new mission. Meanwhile, they would loiter just outside the Marginal Ice Zone.
“Watch Officer, slow to ahead one-third. We will not be heading under the ice.” He turned to his First Officer and handed him the new waterspace assignment. “Have the Navigating Officer plot our new operating area.”
As his First Officer reviewed the message, Buffanov reflected on their new order. Until a few minutes ago, he had planned to put Severodvinsk’s new sonar systems to use, scouring the ocean for Yury Dolgoruky. Now, his submarine’s armament was being called into service.
26
Lieutenant Mark DeCrispino swung the periscope around, then steadied up for another observation on the contact of interest.
“Iceberg off the port bow. Bearing, mark!”
As Captain Wilson watched from his chair on the Conn, DeCrispino pressed the red button on the periscope handle, sending the bearing to combat control. Petty Officer Chris Malocsay, manning one of the combat control consoles, determined the range by setting the iceberg’s speed to zero and analyzing its bearing rate.
“Range, five thousand yards. CPA range — three thousand, two hundred yards.”
Malocsay had calculated the iceberg’s Closest Point of Approach as it passed down the port side of the submarine. It would remain sufficiently far away; no course change was required.
USS Michigan was in the Marginal Ice Zone just north of St. Lawrence Island, headed toward the polar ice cap. Before slipping under the ice, Wilson had ordered his submarine to periscope depth for a final GPS fix for their inertial navigators.