Eckert studied the chart. “You know,” he said, his voice rising slightly, “this set-up isn’t that much different than the last time we worked with Devilfish off Iceland, when we made a dummy attack on that missile sub, what was her name? Saint Louis, that was it.
“In that exercise Devilfish was out ahead of the target and she went to full speed. The Saint Louis heard her and turned to starboard, toward us, and we went to full bore and the skipper in the Saint Louis had to turn away from us. While we were doing that Devilfish closed the range and fired the rocket grenades and got two simulated hits.” His forefinger traced a line on the chart.
“Now it’s us ahead of the target and Devilfish off on his starboard side. If we go to full bore and close the range he’ll sure as hell hear us and the odds are he’ll turn away to starboard. He doesn’t know Devilfish is out there, and he’ll make a run for the coast of Portugal, to get into their territorial water. If he does that and Devilfish goes after him he’ll have to turn away, just as we made the Saint Louis turn away.”
Reinauer sat, absorbing what Eckert had said. “Yeah. If he sank Sharkfin and if he hears us closing on him at full speed he’s going to be nervous. If I were in his shoes I’d run for Portugal at high speed. Then if Devilfish picks up the cue and goes after him he’s boxed, he’s got to turn away. If Devilfish reads this as we do.”
“I think Captain Miller will read it that way,” Eckert said. “If he doesn’t, Carmichael sure as hell will. He’s as sharp as a damned tack.” He looked at Reinauer. “What weapon will you use, sir?”
“SUBROCs,” Reinauer said. “I don’t want to get too close to that bastard. If he sank the Sharkfin he might have some long range torpedoes aboard. Sharkfin was a good ship, good crew. If we can hit him I don’t want to leave anything the Russians can find.” He pushed back his chair and stood up.
“Let’s get started. Get off a receipt for the message. Just say ‘Message received. Orders will be followed.’ Pass the word to the crew that we’re on a special tactical weapons firing exercise with the Devilfish and we’ve got to beat her so everyone sharpen up.
“Supposing Iron Mike has blown his ballast, gone crazy?” Eckert’s saturnine face was dark. “If we sink a Russian submarine God only knows what will happen to us, to you and me.”
“I’ve thought of that,” Reinauer said. “We’re trained to fight a war if it ever comes. We’re trained to obey orders. That’s all we have to think about, all we have to do, obey orders, Mister.” He picked up an eraser and rubbed out the “R” he had penciled in to show the Soviet submarine’s position and wrote in a “T.”
“ ‘T’ for target,” he said. “Send the crew to Battle Stations.”
The sonar operator on watch on the Soviet submarine stared at his video screen and reached for his telephone.
“Contact! Bearing three five five. Contact sounds like a submarine. Closing fast!”
Captain Nikita Kovitz threw a switch that energized the sonar display screen in the Command Center. He looked at the small white dot on the face of the screen and turned to his Navigator.
“I don’t know who that is but I’ll bet he’s not a friend. Right rudder, fifteen degrees. Increase speed to thirty knots.” He pulled the Navigator’s chart over in front of him and studied it.
“Give me a course and distance to the coast. Set Battle Condition One.”
The Soviet submarine heeled hard to starboard as her helmsman put the rudder over fifteen degrees and the ship picked up speed. The crew, stumbling and reaching for the handholds built into the ship’s hull for such purpose, scrambled to their battle stations. Captain Kovitz acknowledged the Navigator’s course change to head for the coast of Portugal and watched the white dot on the video screen.
“Let me know if the contact changes speed or course to follow us,” he said. The Navigator picked up the telephone and spoke quietly to the sonar operators.
“Sonar reports the contact is definitely a submarine and closing range rapidly, sir,” he said to Captain Kovitz. “Sonar requests permission to echo-range on the target to get a precise range, sir.”
“Permission not granted,” Kovitz snapped. He watched the relative bearing of the contact gradually open. “Ah, he’s not turning to chase us,” Kovitz said. He raised his head slightly as a voice came out of the loudspeaker in the overhead.
“Sonar reports that the contact is steady on course.”
“Maintain a sonar watch all around,” Captain Kovitz said. “Increase speed to eighty percent of maximum reactor output.” He bent his head and looked at the course the Navigator had penciled in on the chart. “Good,” he said. “The contact is running at high speed, he probably didn’t hear us. We’ll head for Portuguese territorial waters and wait this out and see what happens. Once the contact has cleared the area we’ll get back on course and find out about those sonar buoys.”
“Contact! Second contact!” the loudspeaker bellowed. “Bearing zero two zero. Second contact appears to be a submarine that is now coming to high speed!”
“Damn!” Kovitz snapped. “Another one out there! Right full rudder. Maintain emergency speed. Make depth five hundred feet. Make course one six zero.”
The Soviet submarine commander stood at the table in the Command Center, watching the Navigator draw in the relative positions of the two contacts and his own ship.
“I don’t like the looks of this,” he said in a low voice to the Navigator. “Two submarines. It looks as if they were waiting for us. Get me as accurate a bearing as you can on the first contact. Let’s see what we can do to outfox those people out there.”
“Americans, I’d guess,” the Navigator said glumly. “Waiting for us to come back to where we fired at the target. That was a mistake, to order us back here, Comrade Captain.”
Captain Kovitz ignored the remark. He studied the sonar display screen. Both contacts were clearly visible on the screen. The first contact was out on his starboard bow, the second almost directly astern.
“Cat and mouse,” he said in a low voice to the Navigator. “If we could outmaneuver this second contact astern we could get to Portuguese water. But how do we get past him? As they used to say in the old sailing ships, he has the weather helm on us. He can cut us off before we reach the coast.” He looked again at the video screen.
“Get me one echo-range reading on the first contact. Once we know how far away he is we’ll go to one hundred percent of the reactor output. If our engineers are right we will be faster than he is and we can outrun the bastard.”
“Range to the first contact is fifty thousand yards, five and four zeros, sir. Bearing to the first contact is now zero nine zero, sir.”
“Come left to course one nine eight, hard left rudder, all ahead, full output,” Captain Kovitz snapped. “We can outrun this hunting dog and get back to the Strait of Gibraltar. This second contact,” he put his finger on the chart, “the second one is too far off to close with us.” He clutched at the table as the submarine heeled sharply to port and he felt the vibration in his feet and legs as the nuclear reactor went to full emergency power.
“Bearing on the second contact is now two five five, sir. Lateral display triangulation indicates range to the second contact is sixty thousand yards, six and four zeros, sir.” The loudspeaker vibrated slightly as the sonar operator stopped talking.