John Schettler - Fallen Angels - 9 Days Falling, Volume II

Then he remembered that pulse pounding jump from the helo when he saw the S-300s coming up for him. They were trying to kill me! They did not want to take the risk of leaving me at large. That was surely Karpov. This must be Fedorov, he realized now. He’s the only one prissy enough to fuss and bother over his history. He was probably afraid I would do something here and spoil the show.

A sullen anger returned to him and, as he brooded over it, he was paying no attention to the Sergeant from his truck when the man yammered at him to get a move on and head for the prison entrance with the others.

“You hear me, you big oaf! Get moving!”

Orlov felt a hard shove on his shoulder and he turned, glaring at the Sergeant, vast and threatening. “Touch me again and I will kill you,” he said clearly, and the Sergeant’s bravado seemed to melt under Orlov’s menacing stare. Then Orlov turned and headed for the gate.

Let Fedorov try to find me in here, he thought. What will they do, land a helicopter in the courtyard and send in a few Marines? This place looks like a fortress. Troyak had a twenty man Marine contingent aboard, but they would not be nearly enough to get inside this prison and control it long enough to conduct a search, particularly since I won’t have my jacket for very much longer.

He thought about that, recalling Svetlana’s whispers in his earbuds, words that could make him the most powerful man alive in this pitiful situation. He would be the man who knew tomorrow. That knowledge would certainly make him rich. Yes, they will take the jacket, and it will likely go to the Commissar, given its unusual quality and workmanship. In fact, I’m counting on that. It will make the man very curious. It will get me very close. I will kill him, and then I will call Fedorov and see what we can do.

The sound of the helicopter receded now, high overhead, and he knew they had gained altitude to avoid being seen. They know where I am, he thought. Well enough. I have work to do here before they come for me, if they dare.

TheAmerican submarines dove to 150 feet and hovered silently in the deep, unaware that Kirov’s sophisticated sonar was still listening. A diesel-electric boat can be very quiet, but not by the standards of modern sonar systems, and the men that operated them. Tasarov had listened intently to the movement of the subs, giving Karpov easy course and speed guidelines to avoid contact. For his part, Karpov was no longer concerned about the undersea threat. Admiral Golovko was a superb ASW frigate on his starboard flank, and Orlan was steaming off the port quarter. Each had a helicopter in the air to keep a close watch on potential threats. He was confident that nothing would get close enough to cause any harm, particularly given the short range of torpedoes of this era.

Now his Fregat mind swept south, like a watchful radar, trying to ascertain what the Americans were up to. His KA-226 had them under surveillance, a little over 150 kilometers to the south, just beyond the surface range of the ship’s systems. The contacts were piling up and he was representing the situation on the optical Plexiglas screen, which was now cluttered with contact points. His battle in 2021 had been against a single US carrier and a handful of escorting ships. Now he was facing a real armada, upwards of 60 discrete contacts reported, and more massing to the south.

Rodenko seemed very edgy about it, watching the threat grow beyond the far horizon with obvious worry. The Captain’s demonstration had produced nothing more than silence from the enemy. Thus far the American fleet had not attempted to close, but Karpov had stubbornly remained in place, cruising in a wide circle as he sized up the situation.

The Captain could see Rodenko’s restrained concern, and he stepped to his side. “Well? What is it Rodenko? Why the long face?”

His new Starpom shrugged, and he spoke in a low voice so the other bridge crew would not hear. “Steep odds this time, Captain. That’s a very big force out there.”

Karpov folded his arms, saying nothing for a time. Then he turned to Rodenko and confided in him. “I’ll admit this silence is somewhat unnerving. I would have expected at least some response to the message we sent.”

“I’m afraid we will have their response soon enough,” said Rodenko. “Those fleets will move on us soon. You can count on it.”

“You think they would dare attack us again after what I just showed them?”

“I do, sir. I think we have only stiffened their resolve. Why else would they refuse to answer our radio calls for negotiation?”

Karpov considered that. Then asked another question that Rodenko did not expect. “What would you do, Rodenko? How would you handle the situation if you were the Americans?”

Rodenko raised his eyebrows, surprised Karpov would solicit his opinion this way. “Well, sir. I think I would have no other option than a single massed attack, on a very wide front, widely dispersed. They know that if they attempt to concentrate we can inflict heavy damage, so they will have to disperse.

“And how would you react to such a tactic?”

“Get further east. Given the present position of their battlegroups to the south, I would want to be able to access the Pacific if necessary. The KA-226 is getting returns from the west as well, beyond Hokkaido in the Sea of Japan. I think we will soon learn there are forces moving up behind us there.”

“Access the Pacific?”

“To be on their right flank, sir. The disadvantage of a dispersed line formation is that we can maneuver to its flank, leaving the bulk of the line too far away to effectively close the range when we attempt to break through. We just can’t sit here and sail in circles. They have enough ships to form a pretty good net if they sweep north suddenly. Remaining in the center of the line like this is dangerous.”

“Yes, but they will regret trying to pull these fish in. We have three fast sharks here, Rodenko, with teeth sharp enough to bite through that net if they get so bold.”

“Agreed, sir, but if we move east we have other options. We retain the advantage of maneuver, and our speed and endurance come into play as well. We also move away from their forces to the southwest, thinning the odds somewhat. It’s a big ocean out there. If we have to fight, we can move, hit, move, like a skillful boxer.”

“And the Americans will try to get us on the ropes,” Karpov pointed to the Plexiglas screen now. “They will try to force us back on the Kuriles and into the Sea of Okhotsk.”

“I believe so, sir, at least if we stay here.”

They did not have time to continue the discussion. The KA-226 radar feeds were now indicating a significant change. “Sir, AEW One reports new movement from the Halsey Group, now steaming north at 25 knots.”

Rodenko gave Karpov a knowing look. “It’s begun. They are coming. I have little doubt we’ll see movement from the Sprague group within ten minutes as well.”

“Radar, how many discrete contacts on that new heading?”

“I’m reading eighteen surface contacts, extended on a wide front now, sir. Three contacts are leading that group some fifteen kilometers ahead.”