Майкл Ридпат - Launch Code

‘Because it was assessed that the Russians don’t really believe that we would launch a first strike.’

‘That makes sense to me,’ said Craig. ‘Why would we? That’s not the kind of thing the United States would do. They should know that, they’ve got their own spies.’

‘It’s the spies who are the most wary. Now that Andropov is in charge, the Kremlin is run by the KGB. According to the CIA, he believes that President Reagan is setting up the US to be able to launch a decapitation strike on Moscow. He thinks that’s why we are deploying Pershing missiles in Europe. They can reach Moscow in six minutes, before the Soviets have time to respond and order a counter strike.’

‘I still don’t see why we would do that,’ Craig said.

‘We know we wouldn’t do that, but the Soviets don’t. They are paranoid. Or at least some people in our intelligence community believe they are. So when they see Able Archer 83 going into action, they will put their own forces on alert.’

The XO hesitated, glancing at his captain. Driscoll gave another discreet nod.

‘They may even decide to get their own strike in first.’

‘Is that’s what’s happening here?’ I asked.

Robinson shrugged.

Driscoll interrupted. ‘We don’t know, Bill,’ he said. ‘All we can know is that it might be happening. We need to be ready.’

Ready for what? was the question we all wanted to ask, but we didn’t because we all knew the answer.

Ready for nuclear war.

‘Thank you, XO,’ Driscoll said. ‘Very well, gentlemen. I’m just going up to the conn.’ He glanced at the clock on the bulkhead. ‘We start the movie at 2015.’

The captain left, followed by the XO and the other three officers, leaving Craig, Lars and me.

‘Jesus,’ I said.

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Craig. ‘The Russians wouldn’t be that stupid. That’s the whole point of us, isn’t it? They launch a first strike, we finish them off. They know that.’

‘Yeah, but...’ I hesitated. ‘Wars sometimes start with people being stupid. Misunderstandings.’

‘Not nuclear wars,’ said Craig.

‘If there’s going to be a nuclear war, that’s how it would start. One side misunderstanding what the other side plans to do.’

‘But there’s not going to be a nuclear war.’

‘What about the First World War?’ I asked. It had always worried me, the First World War. The major powers of Europe had blundered into a war by accident and millions had died. If they had done it once they could do it again.

‘My point,’ said Craig. ‘It wasn’t a nuclear war. Then nobody in charge knew how bad a modern war could be. Now they all do.’

‘That’s true,’ I admitted.

But I wasn’t convinced. And Craig could tell I wasn’t convinced.

‘Has Donna been getting to you?’ he said.

‘No,’ I replied.

‘You mean she never spoke to you about this shit?’

‘Not much,’ I said. ‘We avoided the subject. We respected each other’s points of view.’

‘Remember the FBI came around to ask us about her?’ said Craig. ‘Her and some woman named Pat Greenwald. They said Donna was a serious peacenik. Maybe more than that.’

It was true: two FBI agents had arrived at the base just before we flew out to Scotland to ask the three of us about Donna. I had told them we had broken up, and I would probably never see her again. And I had had no idea who Pat Greenwald was.

‘I heard her getting worked up in that bar in New York,’ said Lars.

‘Well, maybe we did discuss it once,’ I admitted, remembering our conversation in Mystic. ‘She asked me if I would go ahead with a nuclear launch if I was ordered to. I said I would.’

‘I hope so,’ said Craig. ‘Because I’m the weps on this boat and you’re the assistant weps and I need for you to obey my orders.’

‘Hey, of course I will,’ I said, realizing I was straying on to difficult territory. ‘And I told her that. Even if I think the order is an error, I said I would obey it.’

‘Good,’ said Craig. He seemed comforted.

‘Even if you think it’s an error?’ Lars asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We have to, don’t we? We have no way of confirming.’

‘Won’t happen,’ said Craig. ‘There are too many checks in the system.’

‘But what about Three Mile Island?’ I said. ‘There were a load of checks there. They failed.’

‘That was a bunch of badly trained civilians making sloppy decisions and cutting corners,’ said Craig. ‘That could never happen in the Navy. Right?’

He was glaring at me. Both as a friend and, much more importantly, as my senior officer. There was really only one answer I could give him if I wanted to stay in the Navy.

‘Right.’

We watched The Magnificent Seven . Yul Brynner and his crew saved the Mexican village and saw off the bandits, and the captain was happy.

Later, Lars and I were in our racks in the JO Jungle; Matt Curtis, our roommate, was on duty in manoeuvring. I had been trying to get to sleep for an hour, and failing. This was bad. If things got hairy it would be important to be well rested.

‘Bill?’

It was Lars from the middle rack just beneath mine, a coffin six-foot six-inches long and two-foot six-inches high, in which he was wedged during his sleeping hours. Mine wasn’t any bigger; the enlisted men’s quarters were even smaller.

‘Yeah?’

‘I think the XO is wrong. Even if they do think we might launch a first strike, it wouldn’t make sense for them to launch theirs first. We would still obliterate them and they know that.’

‘I hope so,’ I said. ‘But people screw up.’

‘Yeah,’ said Lars. ‘People screw up. Man, I’m more worried about someone giving us a launch order by mistake. Donna was right about that. I know we have all those checks, but they had those at Three Mile Island. I think if there is going to be a nuclear war, that’s how it will start. Someone giving the wrong order to someone else who presses the button.’

I got a grip. ‘Donna was wrong. If we all keep our heads and do our jobs there’s not going be a war. There can’t be. It’s madness.’

Lars didn’t answer.

Saturday 30 November 2019, Norfolk

By the time Toby got down to breakfast it was half past eight and most of the family were already there; only Brooke and her husband were absent.

‘How did you sleep?’ said Bill, mixing politeness with genuine interest.

‘Not well.’

‘And how’s your head?’ said Megan, with a chirpy glee that was not at all polite.

‘Not good,’ Toby said, exercising his right to British understatement.

He was getting old. Not only were the hangovers getting worse, but he was also finding it harder to sleep, especially after too much red wine. It wasn’t true what they said about expensive wine causing less damage the morning after.

His wife being locked up in a police station hadn’t helped.

When he had first got to bed, he had shared Justin’s anger with the Guth family and their secrets. The Guth family including Alice.

There was stuff she knew that she wasn’t telling him, and he was quite sure she wasn’t telling the police. Stuff about the submarine. Stuff about Craig. Other stuff, no doubt. He found himself blaming her pig-headedness for getting herself in jail.

Was Justin right that Craig’s death back in 1983 had something to do with Sam’s? If so, why would Alice care? Although he could see why Justin might.

But as Toby had lain in bed and stewed, the anger had shifted shape into concern. He had no idea what a police cell was like. Was it like one of those American drunk tanks you saw on TV? Was Alice alone? Was she asleep? What was she thinking? What was she thinking about him?