Larry Bond - Cold Choices

“I said that we’ll be setting Condition Two momentarily.”

“Excellent, Captain. Thank you. Will you please have Ms. Parker and Mr. Adams meet me in the wardroom? We have another press announcement to make.”

“Certainly. May I ask what you have in mind?” inquired Baker.

“There is an old proverb that says if you can’t bring Muhammad to the mountain, then you bring the mountain to Muhammad. Well, I intend to try that with the Russians.”

Baker looked on as she left CIC, more confused by her answer than before.

Olga Sadilenko’s apartment, Severomorsk, Russia

Olga heard the commotion in the other room before Irina burst in. “They dropped depth bombs on the American submarine!”

The older woman was puzzled. “But isn’t it near Severodvinsk? The Americans said they were going to guide our ships to the right spot.”

“Not anymore. It’s all over the Internet that Seawolf was attacked by our Navy’s helicopters. She may have been damaged.”

Others had crowded into Olga’s bedroom now to hear the conversation. They all nodded as Irina read several articles from the news sites. She saw several women pull out tissues. With the strain they were all under, tears came quickly.

“So they dropped depth bombs on the American submarine, with our men trapped underneath.” Olga’s expression mixed anger with disbelief.

“But there’s more news,” Irina announced. I just got an email from Joyce Parker aboard Churchill. It’s a press release. They are going into the exclusion zone, and she says Rear Admiral Vidchenko has agreed to meet with them aboard Petr Velikiy. The Americans have vital information they wish to give our Navy, and they will also deliver that Norwegian to our ships.”

One of the women behind Irina snorted. “Right. Use a warship to deliver one person. If he’s even on board at all.”

“He is on board,” another young woman insisted. “The Norwegian company says he is aboard an American destroyer, and they sent him ahead to prepare for their rescue ship.”

Olga absorbed it all as quickly as Irina could tell her. “And our Navy has said nothing, of course,” she predicted.

Everyone nodded knowingly.

Irina answered, “Well, if the Navy will talk to the Americans, then perhaps we should talk to the Americans as well. Do they have that list of our men?”

“Yes, I sent it to them earlier today.”

“And our list of questions for Commander Rudel?”

“Assembled and ready for your final review.”

“Whatever they say, post their response to our questions on the website as soon as you get them.”

Northern Fleet Headquarters

The phone call was from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They weren’t in his chain of command, but reminding them of that hadn’t stopped their incessant questioning.

Vice Admiral Kokurin listened politely, but finally said, “Deputy Minister, I can only accept instructions from the Main Naval Staff. They’re in Moscow, the same as you. ”

He paused to listen, but his body language made it clear he didn’t like what he was hearing. “I’m sure the ministry’s expertise will benefit us in this situation, but you have to speak to Admiral Pucharin. His office can answer all your questions, as well.”

After another pause, he said politely, “I’m not authorized to discuss the rescue operation over an open line.”

Kokurin listened for a moment, then hung up. His deputy, Vice Admiral Baybarin, had sat patiently, if curiously, while his superior deflected the Foreign Ministry’s questions and suggestions.

“Boris, this is going to get messier. The deputy minister said the Americans have formally protested the ‘attack’ on their submarine, and at the same time they’re meeting with Vidchenko aboard Petr Velikiy .” He held up his hands, pleading. “Does this make sense to you?”

Baybarin laughed. “No. There was no attack. Did the Foreign Ministry agree to the meeting?”

Kokurin shook his head. “No, nobody will admit to it.”

“They do have Lindstrom,” his deputy pointed out.

“He could be transferred by helicopter while they stayed outside the exclusion zone. Instead, Churchill will rendezvous with our ships at the collision site, and there will be a meeting — aboard one of our ships!”

“What does Vidchenko say?”

Kokurin made a sour face. “I haven’t asked him. He has his orders. He will follow them.”

Baybarin waited for Kokurin to say something more, but when he didn’t, he asked, “What will you tell him to do about the American destroyer and the meeting?”

The fleet commander thought for a moment, pacing, then asked, “So you think I should instruct him?”

“We have information he doesn’t — about the American’s reaction to the depth bombs.”

“A distraction. I won’t let a rescue operation be influenced by diplomatic maneuvers.”

Babyarin offered, “They say they have vital information for us.”

“Whatever they have, AS-34 is there now, and their data is moot. With any luck, we will know all there is to know about Severodvinsk after his first sortie.”

“So you don’t think Vidchenko should meet with the Americans?”

Kokurin shrugged. “Only if it suits his purpose, and that’s his decision to make. I’ve given him the only order he’ll get from me: Find and rescue the crew of Severodvinsk.”

The White House, Washington, DC

The Oval Office was almost bursting, with the Secretaries of State and Defense, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Chief of Naval Operations, the Director of National Intelligence, Vice President Clemson, and Dr. Wright, the National Security Adviser. Most of their staffs had to wait outside.

Patterson would have been pleased with the attention Seawolf was getting now. The entire National Security Council was present. By rights, they should have met in the secure conference room. Huber had decided to have it in the White House to avoid making it an official NSC meeting, and perhaps because the Oval Office symbolized the authority of the president. That authority had been challenged, at least indirectly.

“Dr. Wright, please tell everyone in this room about your conversation with Dr. Patterson.” Huber’s tone wasn’t hostile, but it was formal, and very different from the easygoing air he usually affected.

Trying not to feel defensive, the national security adviser simply stated, “I’ve just been on the secure phone with Joanna Patterson. She issued the press release you’ve all seen to force the Russians’ hand.”

“Without any communications from them, or us.” That was from the Secretary of State. His tone was hostile.

“That’s the point, Mr. Secretary. They weren’t communicating at all. Has your department received any response to her messages?”

“None,” the secretary admitted. “But what if the Russians called her a liar, which would mean calling us all liars?”

Wright countered, “They’ve already accused us of far worse.”

The president asked, “But what is her goal? Why is she doing this? The Russians have made it pretty clear they don’t want us up there.”

“The sooner they start working with us, instead of depth-charging Seawolf, the sooner they’ll get their people back. Our obligation isn’t to the government of the Russian Federation, it’s to the men in that submarine.”

“Our first obligation is to Seawolf ’,” injected Admiral Forrester, the senior officer in the Navy. It made sense that he’d think of his boat and the men aboard her.

“Then we have two goals. And they’re not mutually exclusive.” Wright felt uncomfortable defending Patterson, but he was really defending their role in Severodvinsk’s rescue.