Voyage of the Devilfish

“Nonetheless, Colonel, given his high station, he should easily convince his leaders that this deployment is an exercise. Remember, the Americans themselves conducted an exercise such as this will seem in 1984. And remember that first we thought it was a preemptive strike and then realized it was a drill. They will react the same way now.” Dretzski did not like it but realized there was little more he could say in opposition, except to ask the admiral how he planned to give instructions to his fleet once deployed. The answer, as he suspected, was that the molniya, the “gocode,” would be issued by the admiral from the Kaliningrad. Below them, the massive caisson door at the seaward end of the drydock was being pulled open by a tugboat now that the level of water in the dock matched the level in the channel. Soon the giant ship would be able to be towed out of the dock to a waiting pier.

“That is how we avoid detection,” the admiral went on. “I will take this ship north to the polar icecap while my fleet heads to the Atlantic. There I will be invisible, hiding a quiet submarine among the noise of the shifting and creaking ice. I will remain undisturbed and untouchable. The Kaliningrad is a fortress flagship. When it is time, I will surface through the ice and transmit my messages to Washington and Moscow. And, if it becomes necessary, I will send the molniya.” Tugboats now began to pull the Kaliningrad out of the dock. Novskoyy held out his hand to Dretzski, who ignored it.

“I don’t like this. Admiral. It is terribly risky—” Novskoyy dropped his hand and nodded gravely.

“Of course, you are right, Ivan Ivanovich. But it is all that has been left to us. Come, I will walk you to your car.” As Dretzski followed Novskoyy to the security building, he took one last look at the gigantic Kaliningrad being towed out of the dock to the deep water channel beyond. At that moment he hated the ship, and the man who would command her. And what of himself, of Colonel Ivan Ivanovich Dretzski? How did he feel about him…?

CHAPTER 3

MONDAY, 13 DECEMBER, 1545 EAST

THIMBLE SHOALS CHANNEL, CHESAPEAKE BAY

Directly astern of the port side of the Devilfish’s control room, in the centerline passageway of the upper deck of the operations compartment, Pacino sat in his stateroom facing a fold-down desk and a stack of paperwork — shovelling the currency of the Navy’s overweight bureaucracy being the price Pacino had to pay for operating their prize possession, the Devilfish. He had been up most of the night chasing the Allentown, and now the combination of paperwork and the ship’s gentle side-to-side motion was making him drowsy. He had called for coffee and had just taken his first sip when the bridge speaker-box hissed and crackled to life.

“CAPTAIN, OFF’SA’DECK, SIR.” Pacino flipped a toggle switch and spoke into the communication console between his desk and a table at the opposite wall.

“Captain.”

“CAPTAIN, OFF’SA’DECK, SIR. RADIO REPORTS RECEIVING AN IMMEDIATE MESSAGE FROM COMSUBLANT, SIR. IT’S MARKED PERSONAL FOR COMMANDING OFFICER.”

“Anything else?”

“YESSIR. CONTACT SIERRA FOURTEEN, OUTBOUND TANKER, IS PAST CLOSEST POINT OF APPROACH AND OPENING AT TEN THOUSAND YARDS. NEW CONTACT, SIERRA FIFTEEN, OUTBOUND MERCHANT VESSEL, HEADING OUT OF THE NORFOLK TRAFFIC SEPARATION SCHEME, RANGE TEN MILES, BEARING DRIFT RIGHT.”

“Off sa’deck. Captain aye. Keep an eye on him, he may not see us. Where’s the Allentownt Pacino had given orders to get ahead of her and run flank speed into Norfolk. The victor got the best spot on the pier with no waiting. The loser waited until the pier crew was done mooring the first boat.

“ALLENTOWN S ASTERN, CAPTAIN, OUTSIDE VISUAL. RADAR HAS HER AT BEARING ZERO NINE FIVE, RANGE 25 MILES.”

Pacino smiled. “One more thing,” he said. “You got the Jolly Roger flying up there?”

“YESSIR. FLYING TALL AND PROUD, SIR.”

“Captain aye.” Pacino flipped off the toggle switch, leaned back in his chair and yawned. At ten feet square the captain’s stateroom was by far the largest private space on board. Pacino’s desk was beside the entrance door, a fold-down stainless steel sink behind it. Against the far wall a table and two chairs folded into a bunk. The aft wall had a display of remote instruments showing ship’s course, speed and depth, a TV monitor that could be patched into the periscope or a VCR, and a door to the stainless steel-panelled bathroom Pacino shared with the XO.

The only decoration on the stateroom’s imitation wood Formica panelling was a large flag in a mahogany frame with a glass cover — a grinning white skull and crossbones, the Jolly Roger.