Refreshed, Reed dried his face and ran a comb through his hair. Staring back at himself in the mirror, he wondered if perhaps the decisions had already been made for him, though it wasn’t of great concern if they had been. The first thing he would do would be to make final contact with Snow. As he sauntered down the passageway to the control room, he could sense the up angle of the deck. The captain had certainly anticipated him. If Danilov was already searching for them, they wanted to hover just under the ice. No need to give the other guy the advantage.
Hal Snow studied the red numbers on the digital display — one seven nine degrees four six minutes west, eight eight degrees five six minutes north. Imperator was just to the east of the International Dateline and would soon be on the other side of the North Pole.
“Captain, we just got a call from Houston.”
“Patch it into the number three speaker.”
“No need yet, Captain. Admiral Reed just requested us to close him near a polynya about twelve miles to our west.”
Reed’s instructions were simple when they talked between the communications buoys. They followed his original plan of sending Houston out on what was assumed to be Danilov’s flank. Imperator would continue directly toward the pole. Weather data indicated a fair area in the region ahead and that it should remain the same for the next forty-eight hours. Olympia was expected to be approaching from the opposite flank within the next twelve hours. There was no need for further discussion. The stage was set. As they severed communications and each submarine submerged, they were on their own.
Carol Petersen entered the control room just as Snow was about to call her. “My sixth sense tells me that you are planning to wear out Caesar in the next day or so.” Her smile was friendly and professional.
Snow forced a thin smile in return. “I’m going to use the hell out of him. Come on over here.” Without explanation he directed her to the chart table, where he picked up a pencil to outline what he was about to say. “Admiral Reed should be about here right now. I want to get a reasonable position on him as soon as you’re back below. Insert a course about like this.” He drew a rough of Houston’s projected course, and jotted down an average speed for a submarine operating just below the ice. “You’re going to lose him from time to time and I want Caesar to know where to expect him to reappear.” He drew a circle near the pole. “Danilov ought to be somewhere in that sector. Sonar has a tape on every possible sound a Russian Alfa ever made. Plug that into Caesar if you haven’t already. Danilov’s going to be hugging the ice, too, but we might pick up a chance peep of some kind before he wants us to hear him.”
“Back to the old needle-in-the-haystack approach?” Snow shrugged. “No choice. He’s got the upper hand for the time being. What Andy asked me to do is toss out some of those new noisemakers of ours. Since Danilov knows we’re coming after him, he’s going to have to sort us out of a number of different contacts.”
“Can’t he figure out where we are just from the sound patterns of those noisemakers?”
“We’re going to run a little zigzag for a while. And have Caesar insert time delays on most of them so they won’t begin to radiate until we’re well away from them.” She nodded, saying nothing.
“Olympia should be coming up here.” He marked an area to indicate where the other submarine would be approaching. “I can’t take a chance on sinking her… because”—he enclosed Olympia’s circle with an even larger one—“the Russians have another half dozen probably moving in somewhere beyond the pole. Alfas, Victors, Sierras, Akulas… they all produce different signatures from a 688-class.”
“That’s one thing you can bank on. Caesar knows the difference.” She bit her lower lip before adding, “Captain, why don’t you come below with me to see how I’m going to go about telling Caesar everything that he’s supposed to do.” Frustration had replaced the pleasure and excitement of just a few minutes before. Hal Snow could be so damned condescending!
Snow glanced at the fingers of his right hand beating a tattoo on the chart table. What the hell made her talk to him like that? The answer was evident even before he looked up. “You’re right. Nerves… can’t imagine why Caesar didn’t tell you that was my problem,” he added weakly. His thin-lipped grimace was replaced by a slight grin. “Why don’t you just tell me whenever I’m asking too much… which I don’t think will happen.”
“Great,” she answered. It was admittedly a weak, meager apology. “There’s got to be more… right?”
Snow was amused by her flip response. She reminded him a lot of himself in years past. “Sure. There’s no way I can use missiles anymore. Even if I found a hole up there to fire through there’s no chance I could hope for it to come back down on anything but solid ice. I’ve reloaded every tube with torpedoes. Since I’d much rather fire too soon than too late, I’ll expect firing solutions on any sound we come up with, even before we identify it. But don’t let me fire too soon…” His voice trailed off at the end, almost as if he anticipated the possibility of crossing over the fine line of self-control. It seemed more difficult to maintain each day.
“Between these people”—she indicated his fire control party—“and Caesar, you’ve got everything under control. The only thing that can happen is if you try so hard to confuse the Russians that you do the same to Caesar.”
“Understood, ma’am.” The wry grin playing at the comers of his mouth was completely out of character compared to the touches of anger he had shown only moments before. “Can Caesar provide me with a visual on the ice above us from the inputs from sonar?”
“Just call me when you need it. I can put it on the holograph.”
“I’m going to need contacts plugged in there, too.”
“I can handle all that, and more. What I’m more curious about is how do you plan to creep up on Danilov when you’re driving four football fields of submarine.”
“On cat’s feet,” he murmured softly. He tore the paper off the chart table and handed it to her. “On cat’s feet…”
Abe Danilov’s hand ran up and down the shiny chrome support pole on the platform overlooking the fire control suite. He could feel the adrenaline surge through his system — once again he felt like a young Turk rising through the ranks of the Soviet submarine force! In those days, it seemed that nothing could stop him, and today he was equally invulnerable. They would make contact with the Americans today, and he could hardly wait. He was imbued with a sense of invincibility.
Such anticipation also convinced him of the necessity of placing his concern for Anna in proper perspective — that much he owed to Seratov’s crew! Before he dropped off to sleep, he was positive that he was once again spiritually in contact with her, and he slept happily because she understood he would not be back until his mission was complete. When he awoke four hours later, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so rested. For the first time on this cruise, he never considered the doctors’ orders a burden. He felt so good that he was positive he would feel even better by following their instructions.
He’d stretched until every muscle seemed to tingle throughout his body. Sitting up on his bunk, he breathed deeply, his mind alert to the day ahead. He realized he wasn’t the least bit concerned about the purpose behind it all. Abe Danilov was going to show his seniors that he still had a long way to go in the service. As he shaved, checking the messages that had come in during the last burst, he admitted that he felt even better because he had followed the doctors’ instructions.