Peter Sasgen - War Plan Red

After securing from battle stations, Scott had the messman break out tins of smoked sturgeon, black bread, and tea for the crew, followed by a small ration of vodka for each man. He toured the ship to praise the men for their performance during passage through The Sound. After conferring in the reactor control compartment with the chief engineer and main propulsion engineer on the status of the reactor and the repair to the main cooling loop, Scott headed to sick bay for a check on Botkin.

Alex caught up with him there.

“Jake, we have to talk,” she said hoarsely, looking at Botkin’s swollen profile.

“As soon as we get our communications traffic cleared up. Radioman’s working on it now.” “Goddamnit, Jake, I said we need to talk. Now.”

“I’m listening.”

“Not here. Plus, I want Yuri to hear what I’ve got to say.”

“If it’s about”—Scott jerked his head at Botkin—“there’s nothing to say.”

She slowly turned and gave Scott a searing gaze. “It’s not about him. It’s not about us. It’s about the K- 363. It’s about Zakayev and Litvanov. I told you, I've done some calculations.”

Another long moment passed before Scott said, “All right, get Yuri. We can talk in my stateroom.”

The room was small and they had to jockey around each other to fit inside. Scott hooked a metal chair leg with his boot and turned it around for Alex to use. He sat on his bunk while Abakov, arms folded, stood by the closed door.

“All right, I’m listening,” Scott said.

Alex put steepled hands to her mouth and took a deep breath behind them before starting.

“I don’t know if you'll both think I’m crazy or not, but I want you to listen carefully to what I’m going to say.” She hunched her shoulders and shivered.

“The huge unanswered question that has been dogging us is what Zakayev and Litvanov are planning to do once they reach the Baltic Sea. I tried to think like they would—like any dedicated terrorist would, especially ones who had stolen a nuclear submarine. It seemed there was only one possibility: launch a cruise missile at St. Petersburg. But we know that there are no cruise missiles on board the K- 363, only conventional torpedoes, which are not the kind of weapons a terrorist would use to attack Russia. So I asked myself: If Zakayev and Litvanov are not insane, what are they going to do?”

“No, they’re not crazy,” Abakov said. “They're totally rational.”

“And unpredictable, you said,” Alex added.

“That too.”

“And that’s what influenced my thinking. In other words, I tried to think in unconventional terms about what was possible.” Alex hesitated for a moment, then continued. “We witnessed what Zakayev and Litvanov are capable of when they torpedoed that LNG tanker. It was devastating. Ships were sunk and sailors killed, and the blast probably terrified people in Scandinavia and Europe. They must have thought the world was ending. The terrorists did it just to throw the Norwegians off their trail, and their actions prove they’ll do anything to carry out their plan.”

She stopped and took another deep breath. “Stupid me, remember, I was worrying about what would happen if the K-363 was torpedoed and her reactor blew up underwater—Wait, hear me out, Jake. Two days ago Botkin prevented a disaster when he SCRAMMED the K-480’s reactor. If he hadn't, the meltdown of the reactor core would have sent a plume of radioactivity over Scandinavia and northern Russia and, in time, around the world.

“Now imagine what would have happened if we had been in the Baltic Sea and had a reactor casualty we couldn't fix. Imagine there had been no Botkin to drop the quench plates, that the coolant loop couldn't be repaired, that a work-around couldn't be rigged, that the reactor overheated and that the fuel assembly melted through the bottom of this submarine and dropped into the sea like hot coals into a glass of water. But it didn’t happen because you, Jake, and Botkin and the engineers knew how to prevent it. Now imagine a different scenario. Imagine a scenario where someone deliberately shuts off coolant to a submarine reactor or blows up its pumps and piping system so it will over heat and melt the fuel. I thought about the terrorist attacks on 9/11 in New York City and the effect a relatively isolated incident in Lower Manhattan had on the nation, and then I thought of New York Harbor, or Baltimore, or Long Beach.”

Scott looked at Alex but said nothing.

“Sabotage?” Abakov said.

Alex, fists pressed to her forehead as if in physical pain, said, “For God’s sake, don't either of you see what I’m driving at?” She threw up her hands. “Zakayev and Litvanov don’t need any weapons aboard the K-363. The submarine itself is a weapon! Their target is St. Petersburg. And we have to warn Washington and Moscow—now!”

Her gaze bored into Scott and Abakov processing what she’d told them.

“Jesus Christ, don’t you two get it?” she said.

“Are you telling us,” Scott said as it started to dawn and his mouth went dry, “that Zakayev and Litvanov and the crew of that sub are on a suicide mission?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Alex shot to her feet. “They’re going to blow the sub’s reactor in St. Petersburg! Drive the boat right up the Neva into the harbor! The radiation released will kill thousands of people. Including the President of Russia and the President of the United States!”

Scott, Alex, Abakov, the starpom, and the senior watch officers huddled around a chart of the Baltic Sea on the navigation table.

“I’m no climatologist,” Alex said, “but, given the westerlies that blow over Russia from the Atlantic Ocean and North Sea, a radioactive plume released in St. Petersburg might even reach Moscow. Both cities will be uninhabitable for years.”

“We learned in school,” said the starpom, “that fifty million people live within a hundred miles of the Baltic Sea coast. It would be a disaster.”

Scott said, “As you know from experience, once a reactor is starved of coolant, it overheats very quickly. If coolant is not restored, the reactor core will melt down completely in about two hours. Set in motion, and past a certain point, there’s no way for the terrorists to stop it even if they were to change their minds. They’ll die within hours from gross radiation exposure. What is it, Yuri?”

Abakov, his bald head reflecting light from the pantograph lamp shining on the chart, said, “I agree, Zakayev will not waste time now that he is so close to his objective. But don't forget, he can only do what Litvanov allows. In other words, Litvanov is the consummate tactician and will not do anything that will endanger the mission no matter what Zakayev wants. We saw it when he torpedoed the LNG tanker, to get the Norwegians off his back. If we trap him, he may fight back like a cornered bear rather than hide.”

“I agree,” Scott said, “that we're in for a fight.”

He picked up and reread Radford's message that the persistent ELF transmissions had indicated was waiting for them on an SRO communication satellite:

SERIAL 291159SRO TANGO/ALFA

FLASH FLASH FLASH

FM SRO/LANTFLT

TO COMM/BADGER ONE

//QUERY ONLY//OPAREA BRAVO SIERRA//

1. BREAK RADIO SILENCE AND REPORT STATUS К-363/ REPORT K-363 COURSE SPEED AND POSITION IF KNOWN/ UPON CONTACT ENGAGE AND DESTROY REPEAT ENGAGE AND DESTROY.

2. REPORT OWN POSITION IMMEDIATELY/ UPDATE AT FOUR HOUR INTERVALS IF POSSIBLE.

3. SRO ADVISORY//RUSS NORFLT DEPLOYMENT KALININGRAD ASW OPS VS К-363/ NORFLT FORCE SIZE AND STRUCTURE UNKNOWN/APPROPRIATE PRECAUTIONS ADVISED.