Yury Dolgoruky was equipped with a quiet electric drive propulsion system, able to propel the submarine at up to ten knots.
“No,” Stepanov replied. “Our advantage is that the American Captain does not know we have detected him. I don’t want to alert him.”
“You are going to let him trail us?” Pavlov asked.
“For the time being. We will let him work around behind us.”
“Then we engage the electric drive and deploy a decoy?”
“No.”
“I do not understand.”
“Patience, First Officer. Let us see what the American Captain does when we enter the Marginal Ice Zone, and then I will decide.”
Commander Tolbert studied the geographic plot. Dolgoruky was to the west, and North Dakota had worked its way around the Russian submarine. In a few minutes, they would be directly behind her. Thus far, there was no indication North Dakota had been detected; Dolgoruky remained steady on course and speed, headed northwest at ten knots.
Tolbert waited until North Dakota intersected Dolgoruky’s trail, then ordered, “Pilot, come to course three-two-five. Ahead two-thirds.”
North Dakota turned right and slowed, steadying up five thousand yards behind the Russian submarine, matching its course and speed. Tolbert was pleased with his crew’s performance. They had dodged a bullet, successfully skirting around Dolgoruky. He hoped their luck held out; the Russian submarine would conduct many baffle clears during its patrol. Each time, there was the potential they would detect North Dakota.
The Sonar Supervisor called out, “Possible contact zig, Master One, due to upshift in frequency.”
Lieutenant Commander Sites stood behind the combat control consoles, his eyes shifting between the displays. A moment later, he announced, “Zig confirmed. Set anchor range at five thousand yards. Master One has turned north and remains at ten knots.”
Tolbert examined the geographic display. In a few minutes, North Dakota would also turn north, staying in Dolgoruky’s baffles.
Sites turned toward Commander Tolbert. “If Dolgoruky continues north, she’ll enter the Marginal Ice Zone.”
Commander Tolbert nodded. “Where the Russians go, we go.”
5
The Moscow Kremlin — a “fortress inside a city”—spreads across sixty-eight acres in the heart of Moscow. Comprised of five palaces, four cathedrals, and the enclosing Kremlin wall with its twenty towers, the Kremlin has been the seat of Russian grand dukes and tsars since the fourteenth century, and today it is home to Russia’s presidential administration. The green dome of the triangular-shaped Kremlin Senate, the Russian version of the White House, overlooks Red Square to the east and the merchant district of Kitai-gorod in the distance.
On the third floor of the Kremlin Senate, inside a twenty-by-sixty-foot conference room, a polished ebony conference table capable of seating thirty persons was occupied by only four. On one side sat Christine O’Connor, America’s national security advisor, opposed by Maksim Posniak, director of security and disarmament in Russia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. An interpreter sat on each side of the table, though thus far they had not been needed. Posniak’s accent was thick, but his English understandable.
They were engaged in the first round of negotiations for the successor to New START, the current nuclear arms treaty between the two countries. As they approached the end of their weeklong negotiations, Christine’s mood could not have soured further. They had made progress while discussing long-range bombers and ICBM silos, but had reached a stalemate concerning Navy launch systems. Sitting across from her, Posniak was a formidable adversary — six feet, three inches tall and 250 pounds — almost a foot taller and weighing twice as much as Christine.
Nonetheless, Christine leaned toward him, adding emphasis to her response. “This is unacceptable.”
“Our position is firm, Ms. O’Connor,” he replied. “No inspectors will be allowed on our Borei class submarines.”
Christine pulled back. “Under the current treaty, we have authorization to inspect all nuclear weapon storage and launch sites. Our satellites detected the loadout of Yury Dolgoruky two days ago, which means we already have authorization to board her under New START.”
“We differ in the interpretation of the treaty,” Posniak replied. “The Borei class submarines were not operational when New START was signed and are not listed in the authorized inspection sites. We have no intention of adding them or including them in the follow-on treaty.”
“Then how do we verify the number of warheads on your Bulava missiles?”
“We will have to use another method. I suggest we count the number of launchers and eliminate warhead verification.”
“Launchers are only one part of the equation. How many warheads each missile can deploy is an essential element that must be verified.”
“This issue is not negotiable. Either we work around this stipulation, or there will be no follow-on treaty.”
“This is a deal-breaker for us,” Christine said. “President Kalinin publicly announced his intention to craft a follow-on treaty with the United States, further reducing the number of warheads in each country’s arsenal. I don’t think he’ll be pleased with our inability to craft a new deal. Is he aware of the stipulation you’re making?”
“He is aware.”
“I’d like to have a few minutes with President Kalinin. Is he available today?” Christine checked her watch. She was due to fly back to the United States in six hours. However, her stay could be extended to accommodate the Russian president’s schedule.
“You are in luck, Ms. O’Connor. President Kalinin plans to stop by this morning to see how negotiations are progressing.” It was Posniak’s turn to check his watch. “He should be here any moment.”
As Posniak finished speaking, the mahogany French doors behind him opened and two men entered. Christine recognized the man on the right as President Yuri Kalinin and the man on the left as Boris Chernov, Russia’s minister of defense. Christine and the three men at the table rose to their feet as Kalinin and Chernov entered.
Chernov eyed Christine oddly, the same way Posniak stared at her when they first met four days ago. Christine was used to stares from men, but there was something unusual about the way Posniak, and now Russia’s minister of defense, studied her. Christine’s attention turned to President Kalinin, and as their eyes met, he almost stopped in his tracks. His complexion paled as he continued into the room, leaving his eyes on her until he turned abruptly and headed toward one end of the conference room, with Chernov following behind.
Kalinin turned toward his minister of defense, looking over his shoulder at the American woman.
Chernov spoke first. “I am sorry, Yuri. I should have warned you about how closely she resembles Natasha.”
“That would have been wise,” Kalinin replied. “She could be Natasha’s twin.” He was silent for a moment as he stared at the woman. “What is her heritage? Is she Russian?”
“Her last name is O’Connor,” Chernov replied. “Irish descent.”
“She looks Russian,” Kalinin countered. “She could have Russian blood.”
Chernov placed his hand gently on the president’s shoulder. “I know how close you and Natasha were, and how difficult those last few months were. Do not let this woman’s likeness to her affect you. When you are ready, I will find you a suitable Russian woman.”