“Why not torpedoes?” Radford said.
“Because it is very difficult to unload torpedoes from an Akula-class boat. As you must know from experience with your Los Angeles — class boats, it requires reconfiguration of the submarine’s forward compartments and decks; being short of manpower, we try to avoid it. Sometimes we remove the detonators from the torpedoes, but not always.”
Stashinsky said, “I have personally approved the decision to permit our boats to retain their torpedoes while in port.”
“You’re certain that the K-363 only had torpedoes aboard when she put to sea?” Gordon said.
“Yes,” said Grishkov.
“Do you know how many are aboard?” Webster said.
“We think perhaps twelve, half her normal load out.”
“And none are equipped with nuclear warheads?” Gordon said.
“Of course not. Under START III we dismantled all of our nuclear torpedo warheads and put their fissile materials under international control. The torpedoes aboard the K-363 have conventional warheads.”
“What I meant was,” Gordon said, “is there any way a nuke warhead could have been lost in the shuffle and stuck on the end of a torpedo? One that’s aboard the K-363?”
“Are you suggesting, Mr. Secretary, that we are liars — that we have violated the START III Treaty?”
“Of course not. But given the situation we’re facing, we shouldn’t assume anything.”
“Mr. Secretary,” said Grishkov, “assume what you wish. We are confident all the cruise missiles aboard the K-363 have been accounted for, and that all of our nuclear torpedo warheads have been dismantled.”
Jack Webster said, “Admiral Grishkov, with all due respect, I believe that’s what you believe, but if your ordnance people are wrong and someone miscounted one of those babies, we’re in trouble.”
“So the only way to prevent a disaster,” Friedman said, “is to find Zakayev and sink him, and what I’m hearing is that the only way to do that is to flood the Barents Sea area with ASW aircraft and surface ships, right?”
“And submarines,” Ellsworth added.
“Why submarines?” Friedman asked.
“In a word, stealth.”
“Do you mean a submarine could find the K-363, sneak up on her, and kill her?”
“One of ours could.”
Friedman brightened. “Could a Russian sub do it?”
Ellsworth glanced at Webster. “Well, I don’t know about that….”
“Admiral Stashinsky?” said Friedman.
“Of course.”
Friedman was taken aback. “Then why in God’s name aren’t you deploying submarines to find the K-363?”
Grishkov looked at Stashinsky, whose gray face had turned to stone.
Friedman understood only too well. “There is no time for dissembling, gentlemen. We are facing a crisis. If you have something to tell us, then goddamnit, tell us!”
Stashinsky tugged his red nose. “Da.”
Grishkov nodded to Stashinsky on video, then said sadly, almost apologetically, “We have only ten SSNs — one Severodvinsk, six Akulas, and three Sierras — active in the Northern Fleet, and the K-363 is one of them.”
Radford and Friedman exchanged surprised looks. Only ten SSNs! How did that match what SRO intelligence had been reporting? Radford wondered, and made a note to find out.
Grishkov was saying, “Three SSNs are on Atlantic patrols. In Olenya Bay, three others are undergoing refits and two are in drydock. That leaves one SSN, the K-480, an Akula identical to the K-363, ready for sea. But the K-480’s commander, Sergei Botkin, is a young, inexperienced starshi leitenant, a senior lieutenant. And there is no way Botkin could find Litvanov before Litvanov would have him in his sights. It would take an experienced submarine commander to hunt Litvanov down, and, I am sorry to say, we don’t have one available in Olenya Bay.”
“Yes, you do,” Radford said.
Friedman seemed to be reading Radford’s mind; he pointed a finger of approval at the SRO director, the equivalent of a Situation Room high-five. Ellsworth had picked up on it too.
“Captain Jake Scott is in Olenya Bay waiting for orders,” Radford said. “He’s an experienced submariner — as good as they come, I’m told. He also speaks Russian.” He saw Ellsworth give a thumbs-up. “I say, put him aboard the K-480 and turn him loose on Litvanov.”
Stashinsky looked as if he had suffered a coronary. “Nyet, nyet!”
“Yes!” Ellsworth slammed the table in the Norfolk briefing room with the palm of his hand. “Do it and he’ll find that sub and sink it too.”
“Impossible, impossible,” Stashinsky shouted. “An American on a Russian boat? Impossible!”
“Can you hear us, Jake?” asked Ellsworth.
“Five-oh. Sorry to take so long to get back to you.”
Scott, in Titov’s headquarters, spoke over his armored cell phone patched through an SRO satellite to the White House Situation Room.
“Have you had time to inspect the K-480?” Ellsworth asked. “What’s her condition?”
“Not good, but not bad. She could use a refit but, all things considered, she’s still pretty well screwed together.”
“What about her crew?”
“We need a replacement in engineering. The chief engineer lacks experience with nuclear reactors.”
“Can Titov find a replacement?”
Scott glanced in Titov’s direction. The commandant, looking exhausted, was busy rearranging his desk again. “Maybe he can round one up from another boat.”
“What about this skipper, Botkin?” Ellsworth asked.
“Same, but I think with a little coaching he’ll be all right. Not so the engineer.”
“Do what’s necessary. Litvanov’s got a two-day head start on you, Jake. This is no sure thing.”
“Understood, Admiral.”
“Anything else you need.”
Scott looked at Alex and at Abakov, who was nervously massaging his bald dome. “Yes. I want Dr.
Thorne and Colonel Abakov cleared to accompany me on this mission.”
“Now look, Jake…” Ellsworth started.
“Sorry, Admiral, but that’s how it’s got to be. Dr. Thorne is a nuclear physicist and she understands the hazards of radiation, and since we don’t know what Zakayev is up to, I may need her expertise. Colonel Abakov knows Zakayev personally and worked with him in the old KGB. Plus, he’s been the lead investigator in Admiral Drummond’s death. ’Nuff said.”
“Have they agreed to this or haven’t you asked them yet?”
Scott met Alex’s and Abakov’s gazes. “They’re not keen on it but know how important it is.”
Ellsworth, after silently polling his confreres, said, “All right, Jake. They’re your responsibility.
Anything else?”
“Yes, Admiral, I want you to call David Hoffman, Dr. Thorne’s boss at the embassy in Moscow, and personally clear things for her.”
“Goddamnit, Jake, you know I can’t tell him what we’re up to.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Ellsworth made a face and said, “All right, I’ll take it under consideration. Now, how soon can you get under way?”
“Tonight.”
“Codes and comm specs?”
“We’ll reconfigure our communication pack for ELF and ZEVS.”
“Admiral Stashinsky has agreed to provide you with updates so you can coordinate your ops with them.”
“We’ll need all the help we can get.”
Radford sat alone in the Situation Room, worried that the Russians might change their minds. But how could they? Jake Scott was the only real chance they had to find the K-363 and Friedman had used up all his powers of persuasion on them. The national security advisor had departed looking drained.
Radford gathered his papers. He marveled at Scott’s confidence. He had no idea whether or not Scott could pull it off, but whatever had driven him to risk his neck in that damned Yellow Sea mission was driving him now.