Carter lay in his bunk in the darkness for a long time before sleep came. There was a very good chance that this operation would fail, that they would all be killed tomorrow night. There was no way around it, though. They would never find the hidden chip in Tokyo. Nor did he think diplomacy would work. The Soviets were about to deploy a new, extremely effective weapons system. All the Geneva conferences in the world would not stop them from using it. The advantage had to be evened out before disarmament talks would succeed.
When he finally drifted off he dreamed about Kazuka. She and Major Rishiri were getting married in a Shinto ceremony. The dream was disturbing to Carter, and yet he knew he was dreaming.
In the morning, after breakfast, a portable computer terminal was set up in the wardroom. Hansen and Forester went over the models they had developed of the base and the submarine. But the details were sketchy in spots, and were based, both men admitted, on little more than guesswork.
"We think this is the way it is," Forester said at one point. "But it's possible that everything we've set up could be entirely wrong. There's no way of knowing from here."
"An educated guess is better than nothing," Carter said.
The map of the submarine base was up on the screen. Barber sat forward and looked closely at it. "What have you got in mind, Nick?" he asked.
"Have you got silencers for your Mac tens?"
Barber nodded. "Yeah, but it cuts down on their accuracy."
"Coming in from the sea is out. It would be too rough, and their security is bound to be tight that way. To the north is the MiG base, and to the west are the troop barracks."
"Which leaves the woods to the south," Barber said.
Carter nodded. "We should be able to get at least to the edge of the turning basin at the end of the canal."
"Security will be extremely tight there, especially if a Petrograd sub is in one of the pens."
"Right," Carter said, staring at the map. He reached back and picked up the ship's phone, then punched the button for the executive officer. Addison came on immediately.
"Exec."
"Mr. Addison, this is Carter. I'm in the wardroom."
"Yes, sir?"
"Do you have a UDT man aboard this boat?"
"Yes, sir. That would be Chief Petty Officer Morgan. Shall I send him to the wardroom?"
"Please," Carter said. "And thanks."
Barber was nodding. He pointed to the southern edge of the turning basin. "We can go in here with scuba gear, make our way into the correct pen, get aboard the sub, steal the chip, and get back out."
"Something like that," Carter said.
Forester had a horrified look on his face. "I can't swim," he said.
"You and Hansen will cover our way back out," Carter said. "Who speaks Russian?"
"I do," Hansen said. "But I'd rather go in with you."
"Barber and I are going in. You and Forester will keep our escape route open. We'll take out whatever guards are in our way. If they're equipped with communications, someone will have to stand in."
"Yes, sir," Hansen said.
"We might even be able to do this in one evening," Carter said, though he secretly doubted it. "If we can get ashore without trouble at around eight in the evening, and can make it up to the base by nine, in by ten, out by eleven, and back to the rendezvous spot by midnight…"
Barber grinned. "One can always hope."
Someone knocked at the wardroom door.
"Come in," Carter said.
A bulldog of a man came in. His neck looked as big around as a normal man's thighs, and his biceps were equally as large. "Someone wanted me here… sir?" he said.
"Morgan?" Carter asked.
"Yes, sir," the UDT man growled.
"Do you have oxygen rebreathing gear aboard this boat?"
"Sure do, sir. But where it goes, I go."
Twelve
The Silver Fish lay at periscope depth less than two miles off the Soviet coast north of the city of Svetlaya. The weather had worsened over the past twenty-four hours or so, and now at eight in the evening a blizzard raged outside.
There wasn't much to be seen through the heavy snow and storm-tossed waves. Carter looked away from the periscope.
"It doesn't look very good out there, Carter," the skipper said.
"They won't expect anyone coming ashore in this."
McDowell looked through the periscope. "You'll be okay out here, but as soon as you close with the shore you're going to have your hands full." He looked up. "One wave catches you just right and tosses you against the rocks, and it'll be all over but the shouting — and there won't be much of that."
"How about Morgan?" Carter asked.
"He's a good man," the captain said. "But I don't mind telling you that I don't like this. I don't like it one bit. We're a submarine crew, not a bunch of spies."
"Order him to remain behind."
"Don't you need him?"
As much as Carter didn't want to admit it, Morgan would be a great help once they were inside the sub pens. Even so, he still would have preferred to go it solo. Alone he had no one else to worry about; he could move faster and more quietly, and he would not have to stop and explain himself to anyone.
"We can use him," Carter said.
The captain nodded. "With him, at least you'll have a chance of getting ashore in one piece. Have you got everything you need?"
They had spent the afternoon reviewing their plans and getting their kits together. Morgan had been a big help with that as well. "Yes," Carter said. He glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes before eight. "Bring us in as close as you can and we'll get out immediately. Listen for our signal tonight at midnight."
"Will do," McDowell said. He shook hands with Carter. "Good luck."
"Thank you, Captain," Carter said. He left the control room and made his way back to the aft torpedo room where the others were waiting.
"Is it a go?" Forester asked. He was very nervous.
"Yes," Carter said. "The skipper will bring us in a little closer, then surface so the afterdeck is just out of the water. But listen to me — it's very rough out there. Eight- and ten-foot waves offshore, then breaking onto the rocks."
"We're all wearing arctic survival suits," Morgan said. "That way if anyone falls in the drink, you'll at least have a chance of making it."
"Last chance to back out," Carter said. "I'd rather none of you came along."
Forester shook his head, Hansen busied himself helping Morgan with the survival suits and the big life raft, and Barber shrugged. "We've come this far, Nick. We're not backing out."
"Right," Carter said.
The survival suits were made of thick black rubber lined with a space-age insulation material. They would protect a wearer in or out of the water. Ashore they would also be wearing parkas, thick nylon trousers, and insulated boots.
In addition to their weapons and extra ammunition, they each carried high-energy, self-heating rations and other survival gear. Hansen carried one of their radios and Forester carried the other. Barber and the UDT man, Morgan, carried the oxygen rebreathing gear, including fins and masks for three of them, and Carter carried the heavy computer chip carrying case.
Their plan was to come ashore a couple of miles north of the fishing village, where they would hide the rubber boat in the rocks. From there they would hike north to the base and take out as many guards as needed to get to the sub pens. Then Morgan, Barber, and Carter would go underwater to the Petrograd sub. Aboard they would remove the computer chip from its machine in the electronic countermeasures room, secure it in the carrying case, and return the way they had come.