“Mr. Prime Minister, we at SVR are becoming convinced the Red Chinese and White Chinese are making moves toward reunification. We have no timeline on this, but conferences are scheduled in Geneva in the upcoming weeks.”
“I’m surprised,” Melnik said. “How many millions of people died in their first civil war? How many tens of millions in their second one?”
“That was a generation ago, sir,” Lilya said. “Those wars were fought by the fathers and grandfathers of those in power now. Their senior government officials are liaising with each other. And we know their intelligence agencies have begun to collaborate. As can be seen with today’s problem.”
Melnik nodded. He looked at Kuzma Zima, the former prime minister before Melnik, who was now the foreign minister.
“Minister Zima,” Melnik said, “I want to see the ambassadors of Red China and White China in my office in three hours. And I want an emergency session convened in front of the U.N. Security Council by the end of the week.” He looked back at Lana Lilya. “Madam Lilya, I want a special meeting convened this evening to go over covert options for a counterstrike at both Beijing and Shanghai.”
“Yes, sir,” Lilya said. “We’ll be prepared.”
“Now, I want to go over where we are with the Omega submarine and the Poseidon torpedoes. Minister Konstantinov, what can you tell me?”
Defense Minister Marshal Radoslav Mikhail Konstantinov sat up straight in his chair. “Mr. Prime Minister,” he said, his voice gravelly, his hand shaking as he poured tea for himself, “The Belgorod fired a Gigantskiy nuclear torpedo at the ice wall obstructing her progress eastward toward the Bering Strait.”
“That was six hours ago,” Melnik said, anger in his voice. “What’s happened since then?”
“The nuclear detonation created a very large bubble field, sir, which is impenetrable to Belgorod’s onboard sonars. She had to wait for it all to calm down. She then proceeded to the ice wall and found open water on the near side from the explosion. The target of the torpedo was blown up, but the ice structure continues, perhaps for miles. So continuing on the previous path is not possible. Her captain surfaced at the open water and transmitted a status report. Apparently, the explosion caused some ship damage. Only one side of his engineroom is working, so he’s maneuvering on one screw. He reported a fire in his torpedo room compartment, requiring him to jettison all his conventional torpedoes. He still has one supercavitating Shkval torpedo and one Gigantskiy nuclear torpedo, but that is all he has left. He said he sees no viability in continuing his present track. He requested to take a path south to the Russian coast, outside the icecap and marginal ice zones, and proceed east that way, or preferably, to abandon the eastward passage and simply turn around and return west to the Arctic Circle of the North Atlantic Ocean and go to the American east coast that way.”
Melnik glared at the defense minister. “I thought the Navy was worried that going that way into the North Atlantic would alert the Americans with their sonar tripwires laid on the ocean floor between Iceland and England.”
“They were, sir, but Belgorod reported that they have been followed into the Arctic Ocean by an American submarine. So their stealth is already lost. The secrecy of the mission is compromised.”
“This whole scheme was ridiculous,” Melnik said. He shook his head in disgust. “If President Vostov asks, I never said that. Minister Konstantinov, aren’t these Poseidon torpedoes self-guided? They’re autonomous? Isn’t that why we spent billions on the program?”
“Yes, sir, that is correct.”
“So why do we need our giant sub and its mini-sub to deploy them?”
“Well, sir, they are autonomous, but not all that smart. They may deploy themselves in locations that won’t have optimal results.”
“No one is talking about blowing up American harbors,” Melnik said sharply. “This was all sold to us on the basis of it just being a bargaining chip with the Americans, and to show strength domestically. So who the hell cares if they are in the quote, non-optimal, unquote locations?”
“There’s another factor, sir, which is, if they self-deploy, we won’t know their exact location if we need to withdraw them. Or God help us all if we have to detonate them.”
“You’re telling me you might lose these things?”
“Well, they do have a way to respond to a sonar signal that is seeking their location. If hit with a particular sonar signal, they can ping back to indicate their location. We’d use that module if we needed to withdraw them. If we needed to detonate them, we’d just broadcast the command detonate sonar signal until the Poseidon heard it. Not very reliable, and the commandos pinging the weapon could be apprehended by the American Coast Guard or Navy.”
“Gentlemen, it’s time to end this madness,” Melnik said. “Transmit a message to the Belgorod to launch the Poseidons from where they are now.”
“What about the American submarine following them?”
“Didn’t the Americans just sink three of our submarines this summer? They wouldn’t have much of a leg to stand on, diplomatically, if we were to sink their submarine. Tell the Belgorod captain to sink the goddamned American. Then transmit a message when the Poseidons are launched at their targets and the American submarine is destroyed, and when he does, tell him to return to base.” Melnik looked at Lana Lilya. “I’m so tired of this stupid operation. God alone knows what Vostov was thinking.” He looked at Defense Minister Konstantinov. “You got that directive, Minister?”
“Yes, Mr. Prime Minister,” Mikhail Konstantinov said, frowning. “But I am not sure now is the time to hit this panica knopka—this panic switch. I believe we can continue the mission without engaging in the act of war of sinking an American submarine. All they have done is snoop on us. They show no hostile intentions. The Belgorod can turn to the west and prepare to enter the North Atlantic to shoot their Status-6 torpedoes. The Status-6 transit speed is much higher than any American or NATO sub. So, there is no need to engage the American submarine.”
Melnik’s face got beet red. He stood, pointed at the defense minister and he raised his voice. “Minister Konstantinov, as acting president of the Russian Federation, I gave you a direct goddamned order. You will follow my order or I will have you placed under arrest and give the order to your deputy. Am I fully understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Prime Minister,” Konstantinov said, his face suddenly red. “I will be calling Admiral Zhigunov as soon as we adjourn here.”
“Very well. This meeting is adjourned,” Melnik said. “I’d like the foreign minister to stay behind.”
Vice President Michael Pacino frowned at the gathered military and civilian officials in the Situation Room. Four hours before, the twenty-fifth amendment to the U.S. Constitution had been invoked. The attorney general had handed him the official document that officially installed Pacino as head of state until Carlucci was well enough to take over, and the chief justice had sworn him in as president, but he’d be damned if anyone would address him as “Mr. President.” The first time that had happened, he had glared and said that he was only keeping Carlucci’s seat warm and ordered the staffer to call him the vice president. After that, he’d convened what Carlucci called the “Poseidon Committee,” but he’d added the secretary of state to the attendance list.