Christine slapped his hand away. “I’m not Russian. I’m American.”
The Spetsnaz commander smiled and said something loudly in Russian, and several of his men laughed.
“I like you,” he said in English.
He pointed the pistol at her head. “Unfortunately, Miss American, you will be dead by the time I count to three if I do not get the assistance I need.”
Christine realized she hadn’t thought things through, and her impulsive nature had gotten her in trouble again.
“One.”
She looked at Brackman and then Commander Steel, then back to the Russian. “I don’t have the authority,” she said, hoping the Russian would understand.
“It does not matter,” he said. “If someone gives the order, I will spare your life.”
“Two.”
Things were moving too fast. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she searched frantically for a way out of her predicament.
“I will give the order.”
The pistol fell away from her head as the Spetsnaz commander turned to the man beside her. Peter Tarbottom had spoken.
Tarbottom added, “Most of the operators are civilians who work for me. They will follow my direction.”
The Spetsnaz commander examined Tarbottom’s name tag. “A wise decision, Peter. How long until you are ready to deploy the submersible?”
Tarbottom replied, “Fifteen minutes.”
“How many men can the submersible carry?”
“Eighteen, but two of them are attendants. They’re normally Navy divers, but I have two men who can operate the equipment and gain access to the submarine.”
The Spetsnaz commander shouted in Russian again, and sixteen of his men assembled into a group while Tarbottom gave orders to his men. Each contractor who departed was escorted by one of the remaining Spetsnaz soldiers.
“I need assistance with one more item,” the Spetsnaz commander said. “I need someone who can operate your underwater communication system.” His eyes scanned the remaining men and women in the group. “Anyone?”
He waited a few seconds, then placed the pistol to Christine’s head again.
Scott Walworth, one of the RATS operators, raised his hand. “I can help.”
Another soldier escorted Walworth to the command hut, and the Spetsnaz pulled plastic tie wraps from their pockets and tied the hands of the remaining Americans behind their backs. The Spetsnaz commander holstered his pistol and turned Christine around roughly, then her wrists were bound by one of his men.
The Spetsnaz divided the Americans into groups of eight and led them toward the berthing hooches. Christine was in the last group, comprised of only her and Brackman. They were likewise led to a berthing hooch, where one of the soldiers shoved her inside. She tripped over the door threshold and landed hard on her side, then a tie was placed around her ankles. The door was shut, enclosing her and Brackman in darkness.
62
Commander Tolbert was in his stateroom, catching up on paperwork when the ICSAP beeped. He picked up the handset. “Captain.”
Lieutenant Molitor was on the other end. “Captain, Officer of the Deck. We’re receiving underwater comms. Request your presence in Control, sir.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Tolbert hung up and headed to the Control Room, entering as another transmission was received. “North Dakota, this is Ice Station Nautilus. Repeat, Vice Admiral Dahlenburg from Fleet Forces Command is on his way down. Do you copy? Over.”
One of the sonar technicians handed Tolbert the WQC microphone.
“Ice Station Nautilus,” Tolbert replied slowly, so his words would be heard clearly over the underwater comms, “this is North Dakota. Understand all. What is the purpose of the Admiral’s visit? Over.”
“North Dakota, Ice Station Nautilus. Admiral Dahlenburg desires a tour of your submarine, and a review of any damage you have sustained. Over.”
“Ice Station Nautilus, North Dakota. What is the Admiral’s E-T-A? Over.”
“North Dakota, Ice Station Nautilus. One-five mikes. Over.”
Tolbert glanced at the nearest clock. The Admiral would arrive in fifteen minutes.
“Ice Station Nautilus, North Dakota. Understand Admiral will arrive in one-five mikes. Which hatch will the submersible attach to? Over.”
“North Dakota, Ice Station Nautilus. Wait.”
Tolbert waited patiently for whoever was on the other end of the WQC comms to run down the desired information. A minute later, the WQC comms resumed.
“North Dakota, Ice Station Nautilus. Falcon will attach to the forward escape trunk. Out.”
Tolbert slid the WQC microphone into its holder and retrieved the nearest 1-MC mike. “XO, COB, lay to Control.”
Lieutenant Commander Sites was the first to arrive, joined a few seconds later by Master Chief Murgo. Tolbert explained the Vice Admiral’s pending arrival, leaving it to the XO and COB to have appropriate personnel at the forward escape trunk and the officers and chiefs standing by in their respective spaces.
“Close the hatch.”
Standing inside the PRM with the other fifteen Spetsnaz, Captain Second Rank Gleb Leonov ordered the attendant beside him to shut the forward hatch. The attendant, Bob Ennis, nervously closed the hatch, sealing himself inside with sixteen Spetsnaz soldiers and another attendant. At the other end of the rescue vehicle, Art Glover sat at a control station where he monitored the submersible’s atmosphere and communicated with the pilot topside.
Between the two attendants, fifteen Spetsnaz sat; eight on one side and seven on the other. Leonov settled into the final seat, fingering the pistol inside his jacket pocket. There would not be much space to maneuver aboard the submarine, and each man carried a PSS Silent Pistol, along with additional magazines in their parka pockets. Underneath their parkas, PP2000 close-combat submachine guns hung from slings, as backup for the small-caliber pistols.
“Standby for Launch,” Glover announced.
A moment later, the submersible lifted upward, then came to a halt with a loud thunk as the bayonet spikes locked into the A-frame. The PRM lurched forward as the massive A-frame arms began pivoting outboard, coming to a halt once the A-frame reached a thirty-degree tilt. Falcon swayed in the air directly over the ice hole.
Once Falcon steadied up, Glover announced, “Coming out of the latches.” Leonov felt the bayonet spikes retract, and the PRM began its descent. There was a gentle impact as the vehicle hit the water, followed shortly by the high-pitched whine of the PRM’s hydraulic pumps. Not long thereafter, Glover began calling out the vehicle’s depth. Leonov located a video display above Glover’s left shoulder. The submersible’s lights were energized, and the camera on the vehicle was panning back and forth, illuminating the water below them.
As the submersible descended, Leonov reviewed the plan in his mind. In a few minutes, the PRM would attach to the American submarine and its hatch would open. He would leave one Spetsnaz behind, guarding the attendants in the PRM, leaving him with fourteen men for the assault. The main issue was entering the submarine quickly enough, before the American crew could arm themselves. His men would have to climb down through the hatch one by one, then gain control before the crew was alerted.