Seawolf End Game (15 page)

Kristen realized none of this could possibly be coincidental. Brodie had known they were being followed. The question she couldn’t answer was why he’d allowed their tail to stick around this long. He could’ve submerged hours earlier and shaken off the trailing submarine then. She leaned forward, as if willing the hydrophones to give her more information, then turned and reported,
“Sierra Nine
has seven blades, classify target as
Akula
fast-attack boat.”

“A fucking
Akula?”
Miller asked in disbelief and checked the printer. Thus far the computer had been unable to do much more than verify the trailing contact. “Are you certain?”

Kristen turned back to her console and nodded. “Yes, I’m certain.” She bristled slightly at the realization he still doubted her. But a moment later the computer finally finished classifying the target, and she heard the printer come to life.

A few seconds later, after the computer had verified her conclusion, he reported the contact to the control room. “Con sonar, classify
Sierra Nine
as
Akula III
Russian fast-attack boat, range about two thousand yards. Contact is below the thermocline.”

“Con, sonar,”
Kristen heard Brodie. “
Keep your ears open, we’re coming around. Let me know what he does.”

“Aye, Skipper,” Miller replied and leaned over her. “Stay on him, Lieutenant,” he whispered.

Kristen wrinkled her nose at the pong of chilidogs and cigarettes, but she put her disdain aside as the
Seawolf
began a slow turn to starboard. The faint sound was intermittent now as the towed array swung around slowly. Just how Brodie knew there would be an
Akula
stalking them, Kristen could only guess, but this was clearly no coincidence.

The
Akula III
was the latest and deadliest Russian fast-attack boat with a thick double hull even a MK-48 ADCAP would have a hard time penetrating. The CIA had reported the sale of three
Akula IIs
to India a year earlier. But she’d seen recent reports that the Russians, even though the submarines had been built for the Indian Navy, pulled out of the deal at the last minute. Since then, the CIA had released no new information Kristen was aware of indicating where the three submarines had ended up.

Kristen lost the Russian, then picked him up a minute later and nodded her head in confirmation of the earlier report. “He’s definitely an
Akula,”
she reported confidently. “Classic plant noises.”

The three sonar operators looked at one another as if she might be joking, and one asked, “Just what is a ‘classic’
Akula
plant noise, Miss?”

Kristen answered without looking over at them. “Starting with their
Akula II
boats, the Russians started using a 190 Megawatt OK-650B pressurized reactor with liquid metal instead of water to transfer the reactor heat to the steam turbines. The liquid metal allows for extreme reactor temperatures, although it’s a bit unstable by our standards. Anyway, this increased heat requires powerful cooling pumps.” She glanced over at them briefly, finishing the lesson. “The water being pushed by those pumps was the loud flushing sound we heard.”

One of the sonar men leaned next to his companion beside him and whispered softly so no one would hear him, “Did she just make that up?”

The other man shrugged his shoulders, not certain.

They were both rewarded with gentle slaps on the back of their heads by Miller. “Get back to work you two,” he snapped. He then reported to Brodie that the
Akula III
following them had not detected the
Seawolf’s
turn.

“Just the same, keep your ears on,”
Brodie ordered.
“I’m taking her down, Chief.”

The
Seawolf
was now moving south in the same direction they’d come from, and for the next two hours Brodie conducted a methodical sensor search of the entire area around the submarine, making certain they weren’t being followed. The boat moved through the depths, changing course constantly and following a straight and level course only long enough for the towed array to straighten out, the sonar shack to search the area, before repeating the entire evolution over again. Finally, after a lengthy detailed search, Brodie was satisfied, and the
Seawolf
settled on a course due south, away from the Sea of Japan where everyone had assumed they were heading.

The boat stayed on ultra-quiet operational status, and all off duty officers were summoned to the wardroom. Kristen, with a splitting headache after over two hours of supreme concentration, gave up her seat and slipped out of the sonar shack. She headed for the wardroom and ran into Charles Horner along the way. “What’s going on, Charlie?” Kristen whispered as they took a down ladder to the lower deck. As the communications officer, he saw virtually everything sent electronically to the
Seawolf,
so he always knew what was going on.

But not this time.

He shook his head. “I don’t have a clue. The captain was called to the communications center on Sasebo for three different classified teleconferences yesterday, and it was after those he came back with our sailing orders.”

Kristen knew it was useless to speculate, but one thing was certain—their purpose for staying on the surface for so long was to make everyone who might be keeping tabs on the
Seawolf
believe she was heading back to resume monitoring the Korean crisis. But for those now looking for the
Seawolf
in the Sea of Japan, they would be disappointed. They’d already passed back through the Tsushima Straits and were entering the East China Sea, moving further and further away from the crisis on the Korean Peninsula.

Kristen entered the wardroom and found that everyone else was just as puzzled as she. Before leaving port, they were told they were returning to the Sea of Japan. But now it was clear this had been disinformation for whatever spies were working against the Americans in Sasebo. Kristen came in, thanking Terry for holding her seat for her, and sat down as Gibbs entered with some hot coffee and tea.

The conversation around the table was devoted to speculation about where they were going. The reigning theory was the south coast of Hainan Island where the Chinese Navy had their underground submarine base. The US Navy had kept the comings and goings of the base under constant surveillance with at least one fast-attack boat always off the coast. Kristen preferred not to speculate, having never guessed the entire time she’d been on the sail with Brodie that it had all been part of an elaborate ruse.

The door opened and Brodie came in with the XO right behind him. Brodie was unusually abrupt and all business. There was no pleasant hello or any of his usual repartee. Instead, Graves clicked on the overhead projector while Brodie connected a laptop computer to the video port for the projector and interactive screen. Gibbs stepped out discreetly, apparently wise enough to know that whatever was about to be discussed was more information than he wanted. Kristen felt a sudden increase in the tension around the table as Brodie sat down and started the briefing with a large satellite image of the Sea of Japan and the Korean Peninsula.

“Okay, let’s get down to it,” Brodie began. “Currently in Japan or in the waters around Korea, there are three carrier battle groups, seven fast-attack boats, three guided missile boats, and two marine amphibious readiness groups.” So far he’d said nothing they didn’t already know. “This represents the greatest concentration of US Naval power anywhere in the world as of this moment. To achieve this massing of combat power, we’ve stripped forces from other theaters, sending carriers from the Mediterranean and the Persian Gulf to reinforce the Pacific Fleet.”

Brodie then gestured toward Kristen, but there was no hint of a smile or the slightest familiarity in his voice or eyes. “Thanks to our own Lieutenant Whitaker, the National Command Authority is now convinced this recent atomic saber rattling by the North Koreans has nothing to do with national pride or a desire to reunite the two Koreas. But is in fact a ploy to secure permanent energy concessions from the Russian Federation.” The map changed to a greater map of Asia, centered on Russia.

“It’s believed this entire façade was orchestrated by our Russian friends in order to draw our attention, as well as our carrier battle groups, away from somewhere else and force us to do exactly what we have done, leave the rest of our vital interests stripped of their normal naval support.”  Brodie paused for a moment, letting everyone consider this possibility.

“Now, the information Lieutenant Whitaker was able to provide after her brief time with the late Dr. Dar-Hyun Choi, was corroborated by a CI working for the CIA in Kaliningrad. The CI has since been arrested by the Russian Federal Security Service, which is the latest name for our old friends the KGB…”

“Excuse me, sir?” Martin interrupted.

“Yes, Mister Martin?”

“What’s a CI?” Martin asked nervously.

“Confidential Informant.”

Brodie advanced to another image. It was a satellite photograph of a naval base. “For those of you youngsters who missed the Cold War, this is the Russian base at Polyarny, near Murmansk on the Barents Sea.” He directed their attention to several slender images of submarines tied up alongside the piers. “This image was taken a year ago and shows the majority of their submarine forces tied up and rusting alongside the wharf. It gives us a pretty good image of the various subs the Russians have built over the last thirty years.” Brodie then used his finger to direct their attention toward several different types of Soviet Era submarines. “We’ve got a smattering of about everything they ever built here. There are some old
Echoes, Deltas,
a handful of
Oscar
guided missile boats, as well as some old
Sierra
flight
Ones
and
Twos.”

The XO advanced the slide and they saw the same view a few days later, “This image was taken from another KH-12
Ikon
surveillance satellite during an over flight less than a month after the previous image.” He directed their attention to a series of piers, previously empty, now filled with submarines. “Notice there was some repositioning here. We initially believed they were recycling some of their boats because these piers have been used to decommission and break up older Soviet Era boats.” Brodie signaled Graves who advanced the image once again.

The next image showed a close up of the pier Brodie had drawn their attention to. He then proceeded to point out various pieces of equipment and vehicles on the pier. “As you can see, these piers are swarming with activity which could be dismissed as the Russians decommissioning or stripping these boats prior to recycling except for two significant facts…” Brodie looked at everyone questioningly.

“Those aren’t old submarines,” Ski offered, his expression turning sour. “Those are
Akulas
and
Typhoons.
”

Brodie nodded toward his engineering officer. “Very good, Ski. Why on earth would they break up or decommission the latest technology when they have an entire yard of hulks less than a hundred yards away they need to dispose of before the reactor cores fall through the bottom of their rust-ridden hulls?”

Kristen adjusted her glasses slightly, feeling a sudden sinking feeling. Nothing Brodie said sounded very good, and she could see nothing to indicate this would get any better. “They were refitting them and getting them ready for sea,” she whispered thoughtfully, not even aware she’d spoken.

Brodie nodded in agreement. “That’s the conclusion the CIA and Naval Intelligence came to as well, Lieutenant. Except it took them about three months longer than you,” he replied grimly. “Similar activity has been observed in other yards including Vladivostok over the last twelve months. It indicates a resurrection of the Russian submarine forces with regard to readiness and activity.”

“What about their surface navy, sir?” Walcott asked. “Have they been refitting as well?”

Brodie shook his head. “Nope, their surface ships have been sitting pier side collecting dust and seagull crap just as they have for the last fifteen years with no sign of any change in status.” Brodie looked around the room and then added, “Also, there’s no indication the Russian Army has increased their activity either. Just their submarines.”

Kristen took a sip of her tea, watching him closely. She knew she would learn far more by how he reacted to the news, the inflection in his words, and the look on his face than by anything she might be shown from KH-12 spy satellite photograph. She’d come to trust him unconditionally with her deepest and most exclusive secrets and realized the gravity of the situation would be revealed more by his interpretation of the facts than by any black and white photographs.

Brodie nodded to Graves and another image appeared. This one was not quite as clear as the previous ones. Although taken by a satellite, the image was taken at an angle and showed what looked like a long building on the edge of the water.

“This is the Number Seven building at Polyarny,” Brodie told them and tapped the image, directing their attention to something ominous barely visible through the open doors of the building. “This is believed to be the
Borei
,” he told them. “Formerly known as Project 955. It’s the lead boat of a new class of boomers meant to replace their
Typhoons.”

Andy Stahl interrupted, “Excuse me, sir. But I thought they cancelled the 955 program about ten years ago?”

“So did the NSA, the CIA, British Intelligence, and every other intelligence agency I can think of,” Brodie answered bluntly. “Apparently the Russians weren’t reading the same intelligence estimates we were,” he offered with sarcasm in his voice.

Again the image advanced to show the same building from a slightly different angle, except now the ominous looking bow section of the submarine was no longer visible.

“The 688 boat,” he explained referring to a
Los Angeles
class fast-attack submarine, “we had monitoring Polyarny reported the
Borei
launched nine months ago and moved to a covered fitting out wharf.”