Evtimov studied Butrin's stunned face. The man was a self-proclaimed liberal who loved Western ideals. Now for America to prick all that idealism by murdering Butrin's precious orphans – it was worth the price of a billion rubles.
"What do you suggest we do, Vitaly?"
This was a good sign. The Ukrainian was using first names now.
"Joint cooperation between our great nations, Vlaclav. We need each other now more than ever."
"Dah." Butrin nodded. "And what do you suggest?"
"May I suggest Ukraine take charge of search-and-rescue efforts? Perhaps some of these dear orphans got off the ship. I suggest that Russia oversee military aspects of this operation."
"Dah. Of course." Butrin nodded again. "And how are we to stop this submarine?"
"The Americans are not invincible. The depth charge is the oldest, most primitive antisubmarine weapon ever used. After World War II, most nations eliminated them. The Russian Navy, I am now happy to say, did not.
"I have ordered hundreds of them dropped all over the area near the engagement between Alrosa and the enemy submarine. This is the functional equivalent of carpet bombing the sea depths.
"We are also dropping hundreds of sonobuoys all over the area. Not a single whale or dolphin will swim an inch without us knowing about it.
"In addition to that, I am deploying the entire Black Sea fleet in a line just south of the spotting. The American submarine will never make it through alive."
The Ukrainian president did not respond.
"Vlaclav, in the name of these twelve orphans, justice will be served.
We will sink that sub, or force it to the surface."
CHAPTER 23
The USS Honolulu
Black Sea depths
The images of the orphans burned his conscious as if emblazoned there by a nuclear flash.
The bleeding.
The crying.
The shaking.
The sight had driven him into his stateroom – and driven him to his knees, where before he could even beseech the Almighty, his thoughts turned to Hannah and Coley.
Something wasn't right about all this. All Masha Katovich's talk about meetings with the presidents of Ukraine and Russia sounded bizarre. Was she credible? She spoke of valuable cargo on board the ship. Plutonium would qualify as that. What if the plutonium had been transferred to an Egyptian freighter?
Ping.
Ping.
His orders were clear. "Do not surrender under any circumstances." Orders or not, as a sub commander he was inclined to stand fast and fight – to fight his way beyond the thicket of ships and mines just to his south.
Ping.
Ping.
But the odds of surviving that scenario were not good. Maybe twenty percent if he were lucky. And if the information were correct – that the plutonium had been transferred to another freighter – then Washington needed that information – and fast.
He could float a communications buoy and try to get a signal off, but that would make the sub a guaranteed bull's-eye for ASW torpedoes. The best way to get that information into the right hands would be to surface the sub, and then somehow, some way try to get that message back to Washington.
Ping.
Ping.
If he disobeyed his direct orders and surfaced, he faced a court-martial and could start a war with Russia. But what about the children he now had on board?
If he were to stay and fight, would they die a terrifying death with cold seawater pouring into their undersea compartment, rising to their ankles, then their knees, then their necks?
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping…
Would they reach desperately for the last few inches of air near the ceiling before the sinking sub became a cold, watery grave? This was a death that he and his men were prepared to face. This was part of the bargain that all submariners understood may happen one day. The men on this mission especially understood.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping…
An explosion rocked through the water. From its sound, Captain Miranda estimated it to be a mile away.
Another explosion. This one was closer.
Depth charges.
He opened the Bible that he had brought with him and read two verses from the book of James.
"If any of you lacks wisdom, then ask God who gives to everyone liberally… and it will be given… But ask in faith, not wavering. For those who waver are like a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and tossed."
Pete closed the Bible and spoke aloud.
"Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm hath bound the restless wave, bestow wisdom to thy servant, for thou are the captain of my soul and I am the captain of this ship. Now, my responsibility as captain is not only for these men, but for these children and this woman as well."
Another underwater explosion shook the submarine.
He opened the Bible once more to a passage in James. "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress…"
The sub shook from a fourth explosion. They were getting closer.
Pete closed the book. His intercom sounded.
"Captain, sonar reports dozens of depth charges being dropped in the area. We're going to be in for quite a shaking, sir."
"Have the SEAL team leader report to the conn immediately."
"Aye, Captain."
"I'll be right there, Frank."
Ka-27 Chopper Number 3 Above the Black Sea
They crisscrossed the skies over the Black Sea like hovering dragonflies. They were Ka-27 helicopters from the 297th Russian helicopter squadron out of Sevastopol.
Junior Lieutenant Igor Pavalov, a chopper pilot just assigned to the 297th, looked out of his cockpit to the west, where other squadrons of Ka-27 and Ka-28 ASW helicopters buzzed over the water.
They flew over a two hundred mile line out west from Sevastopol. Long-range Bear bombers had already joined in the hunt, swarming the afternoon skies in a great aerial cage around the submarine's last reported position.
Pavalov had never participated in such a massive exercise. Nor had he released a live weapon in anger against a live target.
Hovering at fifty feet over the surface of the massive sea, he looked out in amazement at the sight before him. Thousands of parachutes filled the air, plopping sonobuoys into the water below.
Hundreds of depth charges were splashing into the water now.
Some would explode at one hundred to two hundred feet under the surface. Others would detonate at deeper depths. Eight hundred feet. One thousand feet.
If the depth charges did not destroy the enemy submarine, they would impose the ultimate weapon in psychological warfare.
And if the depth charges somehow missed the sub, the sonobuoys would find her and relay their signals to the dozens of Bear bombers circling the area with sonar-guided torpedoes ready to drop into the water.
A static-filled transmission burst into Pavalov's headset.
"Blue Light Leader to Blue Light Three."
"Blue Light Three."
"Release ordnance."
"Very well." Pavalov reached down to a simple switch in his cockpit and flipped it. "Releasing ordnance now."
The pilot looked down and saw a large metal canister splash down into the ocean and disappear under the water. This charge was designed to explode at a depth of one hundred feet.
Pavalov watched for a few moments.
A large, circular, white mushroom of water rose to the surface.
Whatever was down there stood no chance.
The USS Honolulu Black Sea depths
The captain has the conn!" Frank Pippen announced as Pete reentered the control room.
"All ahead stop."
"All ahead stop, aye, Captain."
The Honolulu's propeller disengaged, sending the sub in a forward drift. Disengaging the propeller eliminated the sound of churning water. The idea was to make the sub a harder target for passive sonar to detect.