AK 239: The Enemy Is Already Here

“Then we’re in agreement.” Says Anderson cheerfully, “You will say privately to the Iranians that the Americans destroyed their sub and we shall privately confirm this. That way you can remain an ally with Iran.

After a very long pause Alexeev begrudgingly says,

“Agreed.”

“And we agree upon the exact location?” says Anderson.

Alexeev, now seething in anger wants something else,

“Directly above the Russian flag only!”

Anderson, after a long pause,

“Always with the symbolism, eh Andrei?”

Alexeev, ignores the slight,

Alexeev continues, “And Admiral Perchinkov wants to see the captain face to face.”

Anderson again a little too cheerful, “I’m sure Captain Vasili wouldn’t want it any other way!”

Geographic North Pole

82.7° N 114.4° W

July 4^th

^{Seven months later}

A quiet, beautiful, perfectly clear day for an arms transfer at the North Pole.

And when I say, at, the Russians insisted:

AT: 82.7° N 114.4° W to be more precise.

The ice is pure white, almost bluish in some thinner spots, as in a movie. The air temperature was exactly that of Moscow in the dead of winter — 0°C but this is July!

The deal almost didn’t happen as the Americans insisted on some symbolism of their own. The exchange must take place only on the 4^th of July and the Russians finally agreed.

Geo North, or G. North, as it’s sometimes referred, was laid claim by the Russians in 2007 when they were the first country in the world to plant their flag on the seabed 13,980 feet below this very spot.

That’s almost three miles underwater!

Quite a feat!

No one had ever travelled to the bottom of the poll and done that before.

After they planted their flag the Russians then proceeded to brag to everyone in the world about what they’d done.

“You might have planted a flag on the moon first but we Russians planted our flag on the seabed at the North Pole first,” exclaimed Olga Kasparov, Russia TV-12 anchor reading from her teleprompter.

It was the line that the state had ordered her to say.

The Russian expert Olga interviewed said,

“The estimated value of just the minerals in the Arctic is worth up to two trillion dollars.”

“And this doesn’t include ninety billion barrels of oil or 1,669 trillion cubic feet of natural gas, about one quarter of the world’s known gas reserves.”

Western and Russian newspapers have pointed out that:

“All of these rich resources are the reason Russia had gone ahead with their promise and have begun building ten airfields in the Arctic. Russia’s Federal Agency for Special Construction (Spetsstroy) had promised some time ago to build military facilities on six Arctic islands.”

G. North sometimes has ice thick as ten feet! No sub in the world could punch through that much ice.

This year, however, the ice is only about six feet thick (two meters) which is about the maximum a sub can penetrate.

Suddenly, the quiet of nothing is interrupted by the massive nose cone of TK-20.

I’m the first person to climb out of the front hatch. Message traffic from the admiral said I could wear my Navy dress whites for the occasion.

I help Captain Vasili onto his hull for one last look.

Then I help Admiral Baker onto the hull.

We are all in our Navy dress.

I’m standing next to Captain Vasili.

All three of us stand in amazement at the beauty of this pristine place.

“May I ask you a question, captain?”

Captain Vasili quickly replies trying to act American, “Shoot!”

“Why do you always stand so close when you speak to me?”

The captain smiles, “A Nebraskan asked me this at the feed store. All older Russians do this. Habit I guess. When we were ruled by dictators last time you wouldn’t want a Soviet agent overhearing what was, likely, complaining about the government.

The captain takes a step back.

I quickly smile and say, “No, no. I don’t mind. You have a fascinating culture, captain.”

Vasili thinks then says, “I’ll always be Russian but my heart is now in America.”

It seems like an eternity passes as we stare across hundreds and hundreds of miles of nothing but Arctic ice.

“Are you gonna miss her?” I finally ask.

“I’ve been missing her since I left St. Petersburg.”

Vasili is obviously referring to his wife.

He looks like he could care less about this old bucket of rusting bolts.

Admiral Baker, “It’s none of my business, Agent Denning, but what did you say to Agent Tavana on my ship at breakfast that made her grab your hand. You guys made every man in that room jealous.”

I’m actually embarrassed and that’s pretty hard to do.

“I just said, Jen, what are you doing for dinner?”

The admiral sees there is definitely something going on here beyond his pay grade, so he smiles and wisely shuts up.

Russia’s newest SSBN, the Borei class sub, Knyaz Vladimir, recklessly crashes through the ice immediately next to us, making all of us, Vasili, the admiral and myself have to catch ourselves.

A Russian sailor immediately pops the front access hatch and steps onto her hull.