Just then the door opened and a waitress brought in a tray of soup.
‘Carrot soup,’ the PM announced. ‘My mother’s recipe. I do hope you like it.’
The two men made polite, appreciative noises, and reached for their spoons. The waitress closed the door quietly behind her.
‘Do continue, Admiral. You were interrupted.’
‘Thank you, Prime Minister. Our main task is to provide an anti-submarine force centred on the carrier HMS Illustrious. With four escorts, she provides a screen ahead of the US strike fleet — the Eisenhower group. Our carrier will keep well away from the Russian coast, but two of her frigates will steam into the Barents, together with two of our submarines.’
‘But Truculent had a special mission. Those new mines.’
‘Exactly. She was due to break away from the exercise, to try to slip through the Soviet defences and get to the sort of position where the mines would have to be laid if war threatened.’
‘Inside Soviet territorial waters?’
‘Er…, yes.’
‘And the Americans are doing the same?’
‘Further east, Prime Minister.’
‘And the mines themselves? They’re a great advance on anything we’ve had before?’
‘Very much so. Anglo-American development. Launched from a torpedo tube in deep water. Very difficult for the enemy to detect. It’s a two part device, with a sonar sensor — very clever — which can be programmed to look out for one particular type of ship or submarine, and the explosive bit which is really a high speed homing torpedo that gets launched once the target’s been designated. And the whole thing can sit on the bottom for up to a year, doing nothing, then be activated or reprogrammed by sonar signal from up to forty miles away.’
‘Right. We know what Truculent was meant to do — what is Commander Hitchens really going to do, Admiral?’
Waverley sighed uncomfortably.
‘We just don’t know, Prime Minister. We’ve had no response to any signals. He’s ignoring orders, but appears still to be heading for the Kola Inlet. An RAF Nimrod picked up his track off Norway this morning, but lost it again. There was a Soviet submarine in the area, too.’
‘But what about the rest of his crew? Are you telling me they’re also ignoring orders?’
‘Certainly not! But you see, Prime Minister, Hitchens could well say he’s acting under secret orders issued to him personally. Often happens. Submarines operate in extreme secrecy. Frequently most of the crew haven’t a clue where they are or why.’
The colour began to drain from the Prime Minister’s face. She turned to Sir Nigel. Their looks met, each realizing for the first time the full implications of what Waverley had said.
‘What… ah… what could he actually do?’ Sir Nigel asked, clearing the frog from his throat.
‘At worst, he could sink about a dozen Soviet warships…’
‘Christ Almighty!’
‘But that’s improbable. To launch torpedoes and missiles he’d need the co-operation of his crew. He’d have to convince them war had broken out. Impossible, I’d say. But he has got those mines on board, four of them. It’s just possible he could lay them…’
The Foreign Secretary put his hands up to his face.
‘Just when Savkin’s accusing us of undue aggression!’ he groaned.
The Prime Minister tapped nervously on the table-cloth with her fingernails as she thought of what had to be done. She reached under the table and pressed a bell-push.
‘Your soup’s gone cold, Admiral. We’ll go on to the next course.’
The waitress returned with her tray. While she cleared the plates and served them a main course of roast pork, the three remained silent.
‘Now, Stewart. You obviously have a plan. What is it?’
‘We’ve got about three days in which to find Truculent…’
‘It’s no good finding her if you lose her again,’ the PM chided.
‘Our submarines are designed to avoid being detected, Prime Minister. Twice he’s passed through waters we were monitoring anyway, but keeping track of him when he doesn’t want to be tracked is another matter.
‘It’s not going to be easy. The RAF are searching round the clock, but our best chance lies with HMS Tenby. Another SSN. A Commander Tinker, who knows Hitchens and is fully briefed on the problem, is flying to north Norway to join the Tenby. We have a good idea where Hitchens will go, and if Tinker can pick up his trail, he should be able to communicate with Truculent and stop him in good time.’
The Admiral had spoken in the most confident voice he could muster, but the Prime Minister had not been taken in.
‘What if Truculent’s not listening?’
‘Then we have a very difficult decision to take.’
‘To do what?’
‘Well, if we can find her, to stop her by force.’
‘How would you do that?’
‘Attack the Truculent with a torpedo. Try to cripple her without loss of life.’
‘That’s an appalling prospect. Is it possible?’
The Admiral shrugged.
‘We’ve never tried it. Our weapons are designed to destroy boats, not wing them.’
‘How many are there on board?’
‘’Bout a hundred.’
They fell silent again. None of them felt disposed to eat.
‘There must be some alternative?’ the PM suggested.
‘We could tell the Russians what’s happened,’ the Foreign Secretary remarked. ‘Warn them to keep clear of the mines until we can deal with them.’
‘And give them a propaganda triumph of unimaginable proportions, Nigel. Just what they need to justify their claim that our manoeuvres are provocative. That’s a ridiculous idea!’
‘The earlier we pick up Truculent’s trail, the better,’ Waverley pressed. ‘And the more resources we put into the search, the sooner we’re likely to find her. Sounds obvious, Prime Minister, but we’ve got precious few vessels in the right place. If we got some help from our allies — the Americans, the Norwegians, it could make all the difference.’
‘No! I don’t want any other nation to know about this. The name of the Royal Navy is held in the highest regard by friend and foe alike. What would people think if they learned that one of our submarine commanders could jeopardize the peace of the whole world? That our command structure has failed to prevent a madman going on the rampage in charge of one of Her Majesty’s ships?’
Her eyes bored accusingly into the Admiral’s.
‘I assume you’ll be examining your personnel selection procedures as a matter of urgency, Admiral?’
‘That’ll be our second priority, Prime Minister,’ Waverley bristled. ‘The first is to find the boat.’
‘There’ll come a time when our allies’ll have to know,’ Sir Nigel interjected gloomily. ‘If you don’t stop Hitchens in time, and he’s about to blow up the Soviet Navy, it’d be better if our friends know before it happens rather than after.’
‘That’s a sound point, Nigel. President McGuire is difficult enough to handle as it is.’
She began to pick at her food and the two men followed suit. She frowned in concentration.
‘Do you think you’ll find him in time, Stewart?’ she asked suddenly.
The Admiral swallowed some mineral water before replying.
‘The chances are less than even, I’m afraid. Our best hope is that his officers twig what’s going on.’
‘What do you think he intends to do? What are we in for?’