When Brackman concluded his brief, the president decided to contact President Kalinin. His eyes went to one of the clocks on the far wall, with MOSCOW labeled beneath it. It was 8 a.m. in the Russian capital. The president stood. “I’ll call Kalinin from the Oval Office. Join me.”
Once in the Oval Office, the call was made to Moscow and the president switched on the speakerphone, waiting for President Kalinin to be patched through. As Kalinin offered introductory pleasantries, the president cut him off and relayed what he had learned.
When he finished, Kalinin replied, “I am not aware of any Russian forces attacking Americans, and I would be advised if we were even contemplating such action. However, I will look into it.”
“I’ll be happy to provide evidence,” the president said. “Where would you like the body bags shipped?”
“Do you have anything else to add?” Kalinin asked. The ice-cold tone of his voice was unmistakable.
“Not … at … this … time,” the president said, unable to conceal his anger.
After a brief silence, Kalinin replied, “I will call you when I find out what happened.”
There was a click on the other end, and the line went dead.
The president looked across his desk, first at Hardison, then Richardson.
“Let’s hope Kalinin is telling the truth,” Richardson said, “and this was a rogue operation.”
“Does it matter?” the president asked. “They almost pulled it off. If Michigan had been sunk instead of the Akula, the Russians would have stripped North Dakota and likely murdered the crew and everyone at the ice station.” The president’s anger was palpable.
The three men sat in silence for a moment before Hardison spoke. “Christine is at the ice station with the ONI team. Do you want them to board Dolgoruky once the crew has been rescued?”
The president answered with a cold hardness in his voice. “Absolutely.”
By the time Yuri Kalinin hung up the phone, he was fuming. Russian military forces had been committed without his authorization. He picked up the phone and dialed his minister of defense. When Boris Chernov arrived at Kalinin’s office, he denied everything.
“I assure you I was not involved in any way. If the American president is telling the truth, I will get to the bottom of it.”
“It should be easy to verify,” Kalinin replied, “if indeed one of our attack submarines has been sunk and two platoons of Spetsnaz killed or captured.”
Chernov hesitated before replying, “Do you want me to go through Ivanov and Lipovsky?”
Kalinin evaluated his defense minister’s question. Only Fleet Admiral Ivanov and Admiral Lipovsky, commander of the Northern Fleet, could issue orders to Northern Fleet submarines and Spetsnaz units. If Chernov wasn’t responsible, then it was either Ivanov or Lipovsky.
Kalinin replied, “Use the proper chain of command for this query. However, I want Ivanov and Lipovsky in my office by 6 p.m. tonight.”
Chernov nodded. Both Admirals would have to board flights, with Ivanov traveling from St. Petersburg and Lipovsky from his headquarters in Severomorsk.
“We have one additional problem,” Chernov said. “The directive I delivered to Ivanov four days ago. Although I can determine which unit was moved into place, I do not know what instructions Ivanov has issued.”
Kalinin asked, “Are we still monitoring ISMERLO communications?”
“Yes,” Chernov replied. “The Americans are keeping all members apprised.”
“How much longer before Dolgoruky’s crew is completely evacuated?”
“A few hours.”
After thinking things through, Kalinin replied, “Let Ivanov issue the final order, then have him report here with Lipovsky.”
89
Standing at the edge of the ice hole, Christine waited impatiently as the PRM returned from its final trip to Yury Dolgoruky, emerging from the water and rising toward the top of the LARS A-frame. The day had dragged on as Russian crew members were transferred from the PRM to the decompression chambers. The first two loads had gone into the starboard chamber, and the port chamber had been repaired and brought on-line just in time for the third load of crew members. The port chamber was filled to the gills, almost double capacity, but Commander Steel didn’t have a choice. The number of men who could decompress in each chamber was limited by the number of oxygen masks, so Steel decided to use the port chamber as a holding pen, while personnel decompressed in the starboard chamber in groups of thirty-two.
The PRM would deposit the last of Dolgoruky’s crew into the port decompression chamber, then take Christine, Brackman, and the ONI team to Dolgoruky. Brackman stopped beside Christine as the LARS shifted from the outboard to the inboard position, docking the PRM with the pressurized flexible manway. Stu Berman and Greg Hartfield joined them as the twelve-member ONI team emerged from their berthing huts. Each person carried a small duffel bag and a flashlight, and Berman handed flashlights to Brackman and Christine. Commander Steel emerged from the PRM control van a moment later and stopped in front of the group.
“The PRM is all yours,” he said. “Two attendants are standing by, along with an A-Gang Chief to monitor atmospheres.”
He led the group to the deck transfer lock, which provided access to the flexible manway. A few minutes later, Christine was seated inside the PRM with Brackman and the ONI team, along with the Auxiliary Division Chief and two attendants.
The aft attendant, Bob Ennis, closed the PRM hatch, sealing them inside, and it wasn’t long before the forward attendant, Art Glover, announced, “Standby for launch.”
The submersible was lifted into the latches, then lurched forward as the A-frame moved into position over the ice hole. The A-frame halted at a thirty-degree outboard tilt, and Christine could feel Falcon swaying in the air.
Once Falcon steadied up, Glover announced, “Coming out of the latches,” and the PRM began its descent. There was a gentle impact as the vehicle hit the water, and not long thereafter, Glover started calling out the vehicle’s depth as it descended toward Dolgoruky.
90
On the third floor of the Admiralty building, Fleet Admiral Ivanov waited at the back of the Operations Center, monitoring ISMERLO voice communications and the text messages scrolling down the nearest Michman’s display. The Americans were transferring Dolgoruky’s crew to the surface, and Ivanov learned that the submarine’s Commanding Officer, Captain First Rank Nicholai Stepanov, had been transferred off on the third load, the last to leave Compartment One. The Americans then shifted to the personnel trapped in the aft compartments.
Finally, the message Ivanov waited for appeared on the screen. He listened as the operator confirmed the report. “Understand all personnel have been evacuated from Yury Dolgoruky. Russia sends its appreciation.”
Ivanov pulled the draft message from his pocket and handed it to the Operations Watch Officer. “Transmit this message.”
The man’s eyes widened as he read it, then he looked up quickly at the Admiral.
Ivanov cut the man’s question off. “You have your order.”
The Watch Officer sat at the nearest vacant console, laying the paper beside the keyboard. He typed the radio message, then looked over his shoulder at Ivanov.