“What’s new since the nuclear explosion?” he asked. He looked at Margo Allende, who had deep, dark circles under her eyes. It was likely she hadn’t slept in two days, he thought, but then, neither had he.
“We received a situation report from the New Jersey,” Allende said, “which she transmitted by secure radio buoy at the open water formed by the explosion.”
“Let me see it,” Pacino said, glancing down at his pad computer. He read the message, then reread it. “So the Omega shot a nuke at the ice, then jettisoned his weapons, at least the ones inside his hull. He surfaced in open water. Probably to radio home to report on his damage. Maybe to ask if he should continue on with this odd mission. New Jersey says their periscopes are out of commission and the radio masts won’t come out of the sail. They think their VLF receiver is still functional. But they reported they themselves are making noise now with every shaft revolution. Damage from the explosion. Their own-ship noise reportedly got worse with time.” He paused, thinking some unpleasant and dark thoughts. New Jersey must have taken a bad hit to their thrust bearing, and not only was that something that couldn’t be fixed at sea, it could prove catastrophic by immobilizing the sub under thick ice. “Admiral Catardi, let’s consider options. One is to order the New Jersey to break trail and return to the UK base at Faslane.”
“Mr. Vice President,” Rob Catardi said, “if we do that, we lose sight of the position of the Belgorod. If New Jersey can manage, I’d like her to try to stay in trail of the Omega until we can get her relieved on-station by one or more relief submarines. We no longer can count on President Carlucci’s — and your — relationship with Vostov. This new guy, Melnik, he’s a hotheaded hawk. He could order Belgorod to turn around and take the short route to the east coast and deploy these Poseidons much sooner than we’ve previously estimated.”
“Admiral,” Pacino said, frowning, “seeing as how these Poseidons are vicious weapons of war, on their way to American shores, a second option is if I were to order the Navy to just shoot down the Omega. How would that scenario play out?”
Catardi’s jaw clenched. “Mr. Vice President, before the Magnum explosion, I would have advised you to make the order to shoot down Belgorod, but that nuclear bomb changes everything. Sir, my worry is for the safety of the New Jersey. Shooting torpedoes under ice is risky business on a good day, and we don’t know if all New Jersey’s systems are fully functional. We’re not even sure her VLF loop radio will receive an ELF order to shoot the Omega. And we don’t even know if New Jersey’s torpedoes are okay — the Magnum detonation could have damaged them, in a way the crew can’t detect, and one of them could blow up in the torpedo tube or in the torpedo room, or even circle back on the New Jersey. Those scenarios are catastrophic. And even if we’re successful shooting a torpedo at Belgorod, the Russians will hear it and react with a Magnum counterfire. We’re fairly certain the weapon jettison operation only ejected conventional torpedoes, so we believe the Omega has one more Magnum. After the damage of the first Magnum, New Jersey simply can’t survive a second detonation. It would be a ship-killer. I’m sorry, Mr. Vice President.” Catardi looked down at the table, obviously miserable. “I know we were all gung-ho to sink the Belgorod, but with the New Jersey so damaged, it’s too risky. We need to dispatch other submarines to the ice to sink the Omega.”
“Admiral, what do you think about the idea to have New Jersey send the sonar signal to detonate the mines that the SEALs placed?”
“Those mines probably fell off and are on the bottom, sir,” Catardi said. “I doubt the shock wave from a nuke was something they could survive.”
“We could try.”
“Sir, if New Jersey pings on the Belgorod with the mine detonation signal, the Belgorod would definitely counterdetect her. Same problem as if New Jersey shoots a torpedo.”
“New Jersey’s shaft rub problem has probably already given them away. You remember what a ‘PCO waltz’ is, Rob?”
“Yes, Mr. Vice President.”
Pacino cursed to himself. If only President Carlucci had accepted his recommendation to sink the Omega before, they wouldn’t be in this situation. He was still tempted to force the Navy to order New Jersey to fire on and sink the Omega, but Admiral Catardi’s words rang in his ears. New Jersey was limping and barely alive. She couldn’t be counted on to survive an attack on Belgorod. At least, he thought, he’d be saving Anthony by holding back on ordering a torpedo attack on the Russians.
“Okay, people let’s reconvene this meeting in four hours,” Pacino said. “Between now and then, Admiral Catardi, I want you to equip and mobilize two attack submarines and send them to the Arctic Ocean, to the last known position of the New Jersey. And get Navy and Air Force search-and-rescue aircraft overflying the area of the Belgorod and New Jersey positions twenty-four hours a day until further notice. That’s all people. I’d like the CIA director to remain behind.”
As the crowd left the room, Pacino buzzed the wardroom for a carafe of fresh coffee. When the coffee came, he looked across the table at Allende.
“Do we know anything about Carlucci’s would-be assassin?”
“Red Chinese national,” Allende said. “It’s unfortunate he died, but even if we hadn’t hit him with bullets, he’d be dead. We found a broken ampule of potassium cyanide in his mouth.”
“I’ll be talking to Red China’s ambassador with Klugendorf tomorrow,” Pacino said, but he had doubts about the secretary of state, who seemed too conciliatory.
“My people are working on options for something to even up the score on the Red Chinese. When would you like that presented to you?”
“Any time tomorrow,” Pacino said. “But a tit-for-tat on this is a waste of time. I know, we have to do something. Let’s just see what your options look like. Meanwhile, what do you know about the hit attempt on Vostov?”
“It’s not good, Patch. A helicopter drone was employed, engineered by Shanghai and manufactured by Beijing, also operated by a White Chinese national whom the Russians captured — alive, if our intel is correct.”
“That’s not good.”
“The drone’s AI system was driven by human brain cells,” Allende continued. “Organic AI. Didn’t you try doing that with that Tigershark torpedo?”
Pacino shook his head. “We didn’t use human brain cells. We used canine neurons. The resulting Tigershark brain couldn’t be controlled. A Tigershark torpedo just tries to kill anything in its seeker window. It was a suicide weapon.”
“Probably the Chinese drone was controlled with conventional AI to get it in position, or just by human control, and then the organic system kicked in to target Vostov and kill him. But one of the two guns on the drone jammed. If it had worked, we’d be living in a different reality.”
“Talk about a different reality. Tell me what you think about the idea of attacking the Omega, even with the New Jersey damaged.”
“Patch,” Allende said, putting her hand on his forearm, “if it were my decision and my son were on the New Jersey, I’d go with Catardi’s recommendation. Let the New Jersey linger there and keep an eye on what the Omega is doing until a relief submarine arrives on-station. I know you want that Russian sub on the bottom, but the cost is too high. He’s far away from where he’d need to be to deploy the Poseidons. We have time. We can get other subs there before this crisis gets any worse. We just need to hope the New Jersey can hold out until the cavalry arrives.”