Ultra Deep (17 page)

“And this whole thing don’t go hog-goddamned-wild?” Kontas asked.

“For two reasons. One is the moderator. To slow down the reaction, the core contains a moderator. In the United States, water is generally used. In an accident situation, such as occurred at Three Mile Island, the water tends to serve as a coolant and helps to restore stability. In Russia, Bull, the core cylinders are made of blocks of graphite which is used as the moderator. When Chernobyl Four got out of hand, the graphite moderator burned and didn’t help to cool it down.

“Beyond the moderator, water is normally used as the coolant, and it transmits the heat to the boilers or turbines that are used to generate electricity. The old boys at Los Alamos think the Russian reactor aboard the rocket uses freon as the coolant.”

Bull Kontas was not interested in moderators or coolants. “What about the goddamn dogs?”

“That’s the second reason. In the reactor core are a series of control rods. When they’re raised, the reaction begins. When they’re lowered, like that fence between the dogs, the atoms can’t see each other, and the fission process cools off. The experts tell us that, when the rocket launched, the control rods were probably most of the way down, with almost no energy output. That’s what they call subcritical. When the rods are raised enough to allow one fission reaction to produce one more fission reaction, they call it critical. When the A2e crashed, the experts think that automatic controls were probably damaged, and the control rods may have been raised. That allows the reactor to go supercritical.”

“So it goes boom?”

“Well, not like an atomic bomb, no. The heat and the pressure keep building until it reaches the meltdown stage and has to release its gasses somewhere. At Three Mile Island, they were released into a containment facility, so not much radioactivity got into the atmosphere. At Chernobyl, effective containment was lacking when the coolant system exploded. That lack of safety has been a major criticism of Russian reactor designs.”

“Same thing here, huh?”

“Maybe. Our experts think that, because of its lightweight design, and because of Russian design history, the Topaz Four doesn’t have effective containment. If the reactor runs wild, and the coolant system breaks down, the pressure may build enough to blow out the containment compartment. It will then release its radioactivity into the ocean currents, where it will slowly spread throughout the sea. Additionally, it will take around thirty years for the uranium fuel to lose its radioactivity. While it’s not quite as bad as a release into the atmosphere, where it spreads widely, it’s still not good. Water tends to dissolve the radioactive waste, but we’d still have a hell of a lot of dirty water following the Pacific currents. The problem isn’t a major explosion, Bull. The problem is thirty years of dissipating radioactivity.”

“That’s what Chernobyl’s doing?”

“No. At least, it’s not spreading the radioactivity. They went in afterward and poured concrete all around reactor number four. That sealed it, but it was a little too late. Thirty-one people died, and I suspect a lot more are at risk. In this case, we’re worried about the effects on marine life — fish, seals, seaweed, everything.”

“It could spread, huh?”

“I think so. It might envelope the entire ocean. And that means ecology, people, fishing, tourism, mining, drilling.”

“You’re going to seal this one?”

“We’ll try to retrieve it before it blows, and then we’ll let the big boys decide what to do with it.”

“You need any more help, Chief, I ain’t been doing much lately.”

“I appreciate that, Bull. If I need you, I’ll yell.”

The low sun reflected off the windows of the coast guard station on Point Loma, to their left. On the right, Brande could distinguish some movement on Coronado Beach. Sunbathers and swimmers who did not care about radiated surf. Or who maybe wanted to get in as many sun days as they could before something happened to spoil their avocations.

The long trip in from Harbor One had not eased Brande’s impatience. It was often that way. He suspected that his lazy, hazy days of youth, when the major activity of the year was the week the custom combiners came through to harvest the wheat, was the reason he had learned to crave action. The harvester gangs were to be envied. They were on the move, going somewhere, doing something, if only a brawl in a local, but strange, saloon. Brande’s hyperactivity was confined to driving a truck alongside a combine, accepting the discharge of golden wheat, and delivering the load to the grain elevator. In the evenings, he would take out the fifteen-foot, aluminum runabout with the 35-horsepower Evinrude that had been his first boat.

In the years after leaving Minnesota, Brande had gotten involved with snow skiing, skydiving, hang gliding and sports-car racing, in addition to his scuba and deep-sea diving. Anything that pumped the adrenaline a little faster. Most of his avocations had fallen by the wayside as his involvement in Marine Visions became total. He gave up a Shelby Cobra that he used to drive in road rallies in favor of the Pontiac Bonneville.

Brande stood in the small pilot house, his feet braced wide against the sway of the deck, and thought that he would have made the attempt on the Topaz Four by himself if he had had to do it that way.

He just needed to be doing something.

*

1216 HOURS LOCAL, VLADIVOSTOK

The
Timofey
Olʼyantsev
put to sea even before the submersible
Sea
Lion
was fully secured to her stern deck, aft of the stern gun turret. By the time the patrol ship cleared the breakwater and drove into Peter the Great Bay, it was making its top speed of thirty-two knots.

The skies were still overcast, a dead gray cement that pressed down inexorably on spirits. At any moment, Oberstev expected them to begin spitting snow particles.

Col. Gen. Dmitri Ivanovich Oberstev, as befitted his status, had been given the captain’s quarters aboard the ship, and the captain had displaced his first officer. Oberstev’s aide, Colonel Cherbykov, had been assigned to share the second officers’ quarters. Lt. Col. Janos Sodur had been placed in a second bunk installed in the engineering officer’s cabin.

He had, in fact, suggested that Janos Sodur wait in Vladivostok with Chairman Yevgeni and Admiral Orlov, but the chairman had insisted that, “Colonel Sodur is assigned as a liaison to my committee, General Oberstev. It is appropriate that he accompany you.”

And, therefore, Yevgeni had his ears close to Oberstev’s mouth.

Oberstev’s decision to board the patrol ship and accompany it to the area of operations had come after hours of sitting around the table in the converted Vladivostok officers’ mess, listening to the reports coming in, listening to Yevgeni attempt to overrule Adm. Grigori Orlov’s decisions, and twiddling his thumbs.

With the
Olʼyantsev
ʼs captain, Leonid Talebov, Oberstev, Cherbykov and Sodur left the bridge and went down one deck and aft to the Combat Information Center.

In the semi-darkened compartment, the duty operations officer pointed out on the electronic map the positions of various ships.

The submarines
Winter
Storm
and
Tashkent
did not appear because no one knew where they were. There were a few guesses, but they were not displayed.

There were now two new symbols on the screen, not identified.

“Lieutenant,” Oberstev asked, pointing out the targets, “What are these?”

“Our agents in Japan indicate that the
Eastern
Flower
, a new oceanic research vessel, has departed Sagami Bay, Comrade General. It is said to have a completely new deep-diving submersible aboard. Then, in addition to the naval research vessels
Bartlett
and
Kane
, the CIS Consulate in San Francisco reported that the vessel
Orion
has left San Diego. Both positions on the map, General, are currently estimated since we have not yet had a satellite pass over either.”

“And in the AO?”

“A variety of shipping,” the duty officer said. “Sightseers, very likely, in addition to two U.S. Navy surface vessels.”

Oberstev removed his glasses and polished the lenses. Every new piece of information proved more dismal than the last. It was a circus that was gathering, and he foresaw that there would be accidents.

Accidents, barriers, obstacles he did not need, not if he were to recover from this incident and get the
Red
Star
project back on course.

“Captain Talebov, what is your best estimate for our arrival in the AO?”

“It will be four days, General. On the morning of the seventh of October.”

“And the Americans?” Sodur asked. “When will they reach the area?”

“The
Bartlett
and the
Kane
may arrive by evening on the third,” the operations officer said.

“We are going to be too late,” Sodur lamented. “The Americans will steal our technology.”

Ignoring the pessimistic officer, Oberstev turned to his aide. “Alexi, what do we hear from Plesetsk?”

“Director Piredenko, with assistance from the nuclear laboratory, devised a computer model of the impact, General. The scientists believe that, no matter which side the payload compartment landed on, it is likely that...” — Cherbykov consulted his notebook — “the F-two-six module, which controls the solenoids that operate the control rods, would have been severely damaged. The computer model suggests that the control rods may have been moved to the ninety-six percent open position”

“Which means?” Oberstev asked, impatient at the details.

“The nuclear mass will rise to a supercritical state. The freon coolant, providing that the pumps continue to operate, may alleviate the heat for several days.”

“Give me a date, Alexi. Please.”

“No earlier than 1800 hours, September eight, General.”

“And?”

“No later than 2400 hours, September nine,” Cherbykov reported.

To the obvious chagrin of every person in the combat information center. They all stared at Oberstev.

“Perhaps,” he said, “it is time to tell the world. The ships in the affected area should be warned.”

“I disagree, Comrade General,” Sodur said. “We have a great deal of time available to us, as yet. We will recover the reactor and neutralize it.”

The patrol ship’s captain cleared his throat and said, “I am not certain that you understand the difficulties involved, Colonel Sodur.”

“Our Navy has always vaunted its expertise,” Sodur countered.

“Our ability to make the recovery is not in question,” Leonid Talebov said, “but the amount of time in which to do it certainly is.”

“Then we should communicate with Chairman Yevgeni and listen to his recommendation.”

Oberstev was not the only one to stifle a sigh. They all knew what Yevgeni would say.

At most, they would have two days!

*

1630 HOURS LOCAL, HAWAII

The telephone rang in Overton’s room, jarring him from a nap that had been encouraged by three Mai Tais.

He rolled over on the bed, his bare back prickling from the stiff breeze pouring through the open French doors to the balcony, and grabbed at the phone.

“Wilson.”

“Ned, Will. I’ve got you a ride.”

“Plane to Midway?” Overton asked, hopeful.

“Nope. No boats available at Midway,” Nelson explained. “We managed to charter a cruiser out of Maui called the
Oversight
. Fitting, huh?”

Suspicious, Overton asked, “Who’s ‘weʼ?ˮ

“Well, it’s tough, finding boats that will go into the area. Expensive, too.”

“Come on, Ned.”

“Bunch of us got together, to share the cost.”

“Bunch of who?”

“Couple newspapers…”

There went his exclusive coverage.

“Couple radio stations … ”

And the immediacy.

“And three network camera teams.”

“Goddamn it!”

“Sorry, Will. You know how it is.”

Overton slammed the phone down.

*

1938 HOURS LOCAL, 32° 56' NORTH, 128° 39' WEST

Curtis Aaron was at the helm of the
Queen
of
Liberty
. Sometimes, he liked to take control.

The horizon ahead still carried the red hues of sundown, though the sun had disappeared some time before.

The seas were running smoothly, and the
Queen
, a sixty-foot wooden-hulled Chris-Craft that had been built in 1959, cut through them nicely.

Next to him on the flying bridge, under the canvas sun shield, Dawn Lengren studied the radar screen, her forehead pressed against the hood that protected the screen. She was wearing cut-off jeans and a skimpy halter top. Her leaning position gave him an instrument panel-lit view of her small cleavage, the shadows moving erotically over her skin. Aaron was aware of stirrings, and he was beginning to think about retiring for the night. Let someone else steer the barge for the next eight hours.