“You have got to know. He’s out with Sharon again. I’m sure they’re having a grand time yucking it up across DC.”
What was that saying about a woman scorned? “Honey, I’m sure they’re just working late. Nothing more. Plus, I though Sharon was like you.”
“Who fucking knows anymore? Who cares? A woman as beautiful as her can decide day to day what she wants. God, it pisses me off! That fucking spook of yours is ruining my life. He’s going to take Sharon. He’s all she talks about.”
It was becoming apparent to Levi that he might have another option. Beth was pissed. She would be quite cooperative in finding out Dan’s movements through Sharon again. Especially if Sharon ran at the mouth about what a great time she was having working with her boss again. All he had to do was convince her of this. “Beth, I can’t help you unless I know what Dan is doing. If I had something on him that could get him fired, I could help. Until then, he stays. Does Sharon say anything about what he does?”
“Not as much anymore. He’s been keeping her in the dark. She’s been trying to rally support for him to take the director’s chair.” Beth sniffled.
This incensed Levi, but he controlled himself. “Well, if you could distract her, that would be very helpful. If Dan doesn’t make the chair, then I can fire him. But only after I get in the chair myself.”
The news cheered up Beth a little. At least she now had some direction. Something she didn’t have before the phone rang. She was ready to deal with the devil to expulse Dan Archer from her life. “I’ll see what I can do, Levi.”
“Thanks, honey. If you hear of anything else, give me a call right away.”
“Okay.” Beth sniffed once more then hung up.
Levi put the phone down and swished the conversation through his head. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Jim walked the length of the boat as it moved through the water, trying to get a feel for her. Like a good race-car driver, he could understand his machine and knew when something was wrong by the way it rode. The torpedo had knocked that sensation out of him. He tried to rationalize why he was so passionate about the War Eagle. Possibly because it was clandestine. Possibly because the ship never had a skipper other than him. My personal multibillion-dollar toy. He grinned to himself.
He gave up pacing and returned to the CIC. Hopefully the feeling would return if he tried not to concentrate so much. Relaxing seemed to help. The bridge was quiet. The planesman held a steady depth and course as they raced to the last image point of the Saratov. Lincoln was in the back, sipping coffee and plotting routes.
Josh Brand finally pulled his butt from the RRCC, took a Hollywood shower, and went to his bunk to catch forty winks. McLeary and O’Neil were starting to complain about the way he smelled. They must have said something.
The crew had rotated, and the tension had subsided. Things were operating smoothly, except everyone knew what would be at the end of their journey. Miraculously, they still had the element of surprise.
Jim was contemplating hitting the bunk himself when Mikhail returned. “I’ve got something for you.”
“Good, Mik. Give me your best guess.”
Mikhail, weary and subdued, laid out pictures and maps of Russia in front of Jim. “I went back and started from the beginning, with the sub. I am convinced that Stemovich stole the Saratov because it serves a specific purpose. I looked at the pictures again, and I will say that Russia won’t see another as advanced as her for decades. He outdid himself.”
“You’re not saying he stole it for himself?”
“He has a clear purpose.”
“I would like clarity right now,” mumbled Jim.
“Next, I looked at the ship’s armaments. He’s going to use his nuclear capability.”
Jim was startled by the confidence with which Mikhail spoke. “Why?”
“A Russian does not take something that he doesn’t intend to use. It is in our culture not to waste. Stalin enforced that point upon us. He armed his ship first with missiles while a storm was breathing down his neck. The missiles had priority over the torpedoes. They are key to his success.”
“Success in what?”
“That I don’t know.”
“Do you think he has the United States targeted or some other country?”
There seemed to be pain in Mikhail as he answered. “I don’t believe so. If his intent was to harm another country, then he has taken a strange course. His risk of detection is great if he ventures out of Russian waters. He has stayed extremely close to the coast. It makes me believe that he won’t sail very far away.”
“A city in Russia then?”
“Moscow, perhaps.”
“Moscow? He’s headed the wrong way for Moscow.” Jim pointed with his finger. “In fact, he’s got to make a hell of a journey to get in position to launch on Moscow.”
“I know. He’s coming back.”
“What’s he doing in the meantime?”
“I believe we can call it running an errand. I don’t know what it involves, but he’s got to do something or get something before he can continue with his plan.”
Jim felt one of those tension headaches coming on. “Why Moscow then?”
“I don’t think it has anything to do with terrorism. Andri is too professional to succumb to that. I had to think about what could happen if a missile were to blow out the city. The worst case would be that the severed communications with the satellite provinces would send them into a panic and start World War III. Yet I find that unlikely. What I had to examine was the event, along with the man who was going to create that event. I can extrapolate that Andri is a devoted navy man. No engineer would remain in the Soviet military, much less strive to become a captain, if he didn’t like it. Secondly, the navy, more than any other branch of the military, has passionate ties to the October Revolution and the existence of communism. It was the naval branch that embraced Lenin first. All branches of the Soviet war machine benefited from communism, but the navy received most of the perks. Then I asked myself not what Andri would get from destroying Moscow, but what would the navy gain?”
“What could they gain from it?” returned Jim. “Moscow is hundreds of miles inland. It’s the heartbeat of Russia in dealing with commerce. Other than that, it’s like DC, loaded with bureaucrats and government.”
“Exactly,” replied Mikhail. “Destroy the government—”
“And you get a new government,” finished Jim.
“Not a new one,” said Mikhail, holding up his finger. “You get an old one. Probably located in Saint Petersburg.”
“But you start World War III.”
“I don’t know how he will get around that. We have to assume his strategy takes that into account.”
Jim glared at Mikhail. “Assume he doesn’t nuke Moscow? Really?”
“He is a Russian, not a jihadist. He is not doing this for himself or for God. He’s doing it for his people. The people of Russia.”
“We can rule out money as the motivating factor.”
“Money was the decoy. Even the CIA thought money was the best explanation — possibly the only explanation. It wasn’t even in the equation for him, so no one looked at him thoroughly. There was no secondary thought put toward his motivation. We all missed this.”
For argument’s sake, it all sounded very appealing to Jim. Some scrap of sense in an insane situation. Still, at best, it was only a hypothesis. “What do you have to support this position?”
“I am Russian. So is Andri. If I were Andri, it would be what I would do. There isn’t a world large enough for him to hide from a bullet if he were to turn over that machine to Kuwait, but in the new Soviet Union, he could be celebrated as a hero.”