Moments later, an explosion emanated from the speaker selected to broadband sonar, and Sonar determined the explosion came from operating area Delta. Further analysis indicated that another Akula had been sunk. The southernmost of the three engagement areas was now clear of Russian submarines, with the third Akula still lurking in operating area Echo and Krasnoyarsk in Foxtrot.
Then another explosion rumbled from the Conn speaker.
Sonar analyzed the remaining acoustic frequencies in that area, then reported, “No longer detect U.S. submarine tonals in operating area Foxtrot. Yasen-class tonals remain.”
Wilson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Krasnoyarsk had sunk the U.S. fast attack. It now had a clear lane to approach Theodore Roosevelt. The fast attack in the adjacent area to the south would not be able to engage, since it was still dealing with the third Akula.
In normal situations, U.S. submarines could not enter a friendly submarine’s operating area without permission and a stratum separation scheme. However, today’s engagement was not a normal situation. Wilson had no order or authorization to do so, but made the call.
“Helm, ahead standard. Left full rudder, steady course two-eight-zero.”
He was taking his submarine into operating area Foxtrot. For Krasnoyarsk to approach within firing range of Theodore Roosevelt, it would have to get past Michigan.
79
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
Darkness had fallen by the time Khalila’s car ground to a halt on Pendleton Street, just before the right-hand curve leading to Harrison’s destination, a warehouse built on the bank of the Potomac River. There were no pedestrians in sight, and no cars either at the moment, now that darkness had enveloped the city.
“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Khalila asked.
“You heard Mixell,” he replied. “This is between me and him. Promise me you’ll stay out of this.”
Khalila nodded solemnly. “I’ll wait here. Call if you need me.”
Harrison pulled his pistol from its holster as he stepped from the car, then moved swiftly along the curve in the road, where Pendleton transitioned to North Union Street. Not far from the warehouse, he stopped in the shadows across the street from the building.
A single door and several multi-paned windows spanned the side of the building facing Union Street. Harrison checked the warehouse for evidence of a security system — cameras or motion detectors — but didn’t spot any telltale signs.
As he prepared to cross the street to engage Mixell, his thoughts drifted back to a scene in his house in Silverdale, Washington. Christine had just departed after offering him a job at the agency.
After he closed the front door, Angie leaned against the wall, tears in her eyes.
“I know you have to take this job,” she said. “Lonnie will eventually come after you, and the sooner he’s back behind bars or dead, the better. But be more careful this time. Maddy and I can’t afford to lose you.”
Tears fell down Angie’s cheeks.
Harrison wiped them away. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. We’ll find Lonnie and either kill him or put him in prison again, and this time he won’t get out.
“I’ll be safe. You and Maddy will be safe. I promise.”
The memory left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had failed Angie. He wasn’t going to lose Christine.
Harrison crossed the street and stopped against the building, then peered into the nearest window, hoping to get a clear shot on Mixell and end tonight’s ordeal quickly. The window was too filthy to see through, so he wiped most of the grime away with his sleeve, enough to get a decent look. The interior was filled mostly with stacks of crates, plus the blue Ford Taurus that Mixell had switched into while in the I-395 tunnel. There was no sign of Mixell or Christine, however.
He moved to another window, and then another with the same result. The only items visible were the stacks of crates and the Taurus. Mixell must have positioned himself and Christine, or perhaps the crates as well, so that Harrison wouldn’t have a clear shot from outside the building. While looking through the next window, however, Harrison spotted a rope tied to a ceiling beam, rising from behind one of the stacks of crates. The rope was taut and swayed slightly on occasion, and Harrison concluded that Christine was tied to the beam.
Harrison completed his survey of the warehouse from the remaining windows, and Mixell and Christine were hidden by the crates from every vantage point. He would have to deal with Mixell the hard way.
He approached the warehouse door and tried to open it, but it was locked.
Pulling the cell phone from his pocket, he called Mixell.
“I’m here,” he said when Mixell answered. “The door is locked.”
“I’ll call you when I’m ready,” Mixell replied, then hung up.
80
USS MICHIGAN K-571 KRASNOYARSK
The atmosphere in Michigan’s Control Room was subdued, with orders and reports being calmly passed between operators and supervisors as Wilson’s crew focused on refining a target solution for the Russian guided missile submarine. Designated Master one, Krasnoyarsk was a quiet submarine indeed, held only on tonals detected on Michigan’s towed array, which added to the difficulty of developing an adequate firing solution, due to having to wait several minutes after each maneuver for the array to stop snaking back and forth.
Complicating the matter, Krasnoyarsk was maneuvering frequently as it headed toward Theodore Roosevelt. Whether it was because Krasnoyarsk’s crew had counter-detected Michigan or was maneuvering prudently in the vicinity of the American fast attack in the operating area to the south, Wilson didn’t know. Either way, each time Krasnoyarsk maneuvered, it invalidated the firing solution Wilson’s crew had been developing, since the Russian submarine’s new course and speed were unknown.
Being the first submarine to fire was normally an advantage, and Wilson considered firing with a poor target solution. However, if Krasnoyarsk hadn’t yet detected Michigan, Wilson would be throwing away a significant advantage he held over his adversary. Additionally, if the firing solution turned out to be inadequate, the torpedo would need a steer command from Michigan’s crew to turn it onto an intercept track with the target. Unfortunately, the guidance wire sometimes broke during launch or while paying out as the torpedo sped toward its target, so Wilson couldn’t count on being able to send a course update to the torpedo after launch.
After considering the matter, Wilson decided to side with patience — continue to prosecute Krasnoyarsk until he had an adequate firing solution.
In Krasnoyarsk’s Central Command Post, Captain Second Rank Gavriil Novikov moved from supervisor to supervisor, checking on his crew as they traveled through the perilous water toward the ultimate prize, the American aircraft carrier trapped between the Russian submarines and the minefield blocking the Strait of Hormuz. It was obvious that a path had been cleared through the minefield for American submarines. However, it must not have been large enough to allow passage of the one-hundred-ton aircraft carrier, since it remained in the thin sliver of water on the Persian Gulf side of the minefield. For the time being, it was still trapped.