Buglione waited patiently while Pittsburgh moved in behind the Russian submarine again. But Sonar’s next announcement changed everything.

  “Conn, Sonar. Torpedo launch transients from Master one!”

  Buglione’s thoughts went in several directions at once. Under normal combat conditions, the response was clear: evade the incoming torpedo and counterfire. But Kazan couldn’t possibly be firing at Pittsburgh. There was no indication Pittsburgh had been detected, aside from the sudden maneuver to the east, plus the United States and Russia weren’t at war—and counterfiring might start one. If Buglione and his crew misinterpreted the sounds and sank the Russian submarine when it intended no harm, there’d be hell to pay. But if Kazan had really launched a warshot torpedo and Pittsburgh didn’t evade …

  He needed more data, but couldn’t delay. “Helm, hard left rudder, steady course two-seven-zero. Ahead full.”

  Buglione would normally have ordered ahead flank, but the submarine’s screw would have cavitated at maximum propulsion, spinning so fast in the shallow water that it’d serve as a sound beacon, giving away Pittsburgh’s presence. Buglione was still hopeful they’d somehow misinterpreted things, so he’d ordered ahead full, hoping to move out of the torpedo’s path without giving Pittsburgh’s presence away. In about thirty seconds, he’d know where the torpedo was headed and could increase speed to maximum if required. In the meantime, he prepared to counterfire.

  “Firing Point Procedures, Master one, normal submerged presets. Tube One is primary, tube Two is secondary.”

  As Pittsburgh swung to the west and increased speed, Buglione focused on the bearings to the incoming torpedo. They were drawing slightly aft, which told him the torpedo wasn’t aimed directly at Pittsburgh. But modern torpedoes weren’t like the World War II straight runners, which had to be aimed perfectly to get a hit. Today’s torpedoes were artificially intelligent, with their sonar and search algorithms turning on at a predetermined point. It would then scour the surrounding water to find its target, then adjust course and increase speed, closing on its prey until it was close enough to detonate.

  Buglione’s crew prepared to counterfire, delivering the expected reports:

  “Solution ready!” the Executive Officer announced, informing Buglione that a satisfactory target solution had been calculated and that the parameters—course, speed, and range—had been sent to the two torpedoes.

  “Weapons ready!” the Weapons Officer reported. The torpedoes had accepted the target solution and search presets.

  “Ship ready!” Lieutenant Cibelli announced, indicating the torpedo countermeasures were armed and ready to launch.

  Pittsburgh steadied on its evasion course and speed. There had been no additional torpedo launches by Kazan, so Buglione focused on the single incoming torpedo. It was still drawing aft and would approach acquisition range—the distance at which its sonar could detect Pittsburgh—at any moment. As Buglione contemplated pulling the trigger, firing a warshot torpedo at Kazan, Sonar interrupted his thoughts.

  “Conn, Sonar. Hold a new contact on the towed array, designated Sierra two-two, ambiguous bearings one-seven-zero and three-five-zero.” A moment later, Sonar followed up, “Conn, Sonar. Sierra two-two is classified submerged.”

  Buglione examined the sonar display on the Conn. There was a second Russian submarine in the area, to the south of Pittsburgh, with Kazan to the north. Pittsburgh was bracketed. He shifted his attention to the torpedo bearings. They continued drawing aft, giving no indication the torpedo had detected Pittsburgh. The torpedo was headed south, toward—the second Russian submarine.

  Then everything clicked. Pittsburgh had unwittingly stumbled into the middle of a Russian TORPEX—torpedo exercise—and Kazan was firing an exercise torpedo at its adversary to the south.

  “Helm, ahead two-thirds. Right ten degrees rudder, steady course zero-three-zero.”

  With the torpedo drawing aft, away from his submarine, Buglione slowed down and turned toward Kazan, attempting to slip into her baffles again.

  As Buglione worked his way behind Kazan, he realized they’d stumbled into a gold mine. His eyes canvassed the Control Room displays—the Sonar and Combat Control Systems were recording every facet of the Russian torpedo exercise. Once the details were transmitted to the Office of Naval Intelligence, experts would analyze every aspect of the exercise: Russian submarine engagement tactics and torpedo characteristics—speed, sonar frequencies, and homing technique.

  Buglione focused on the submarine Kazan had fired at. It remained steady on course and speed, giving no indication it had detected the incoming torpedo. Sonar reported the torpedo had acquired its target and was homing—increasing speed and the frequency of its pings—calculating a more accurate intercept solution. But the target Russian submarine still did not evade.

  He considered the unusual situation. Maybe the target was an older submarine with an antiquated sonar suite, and the crew hadn’t detected the incoming torpedo.

  “Conn, Sonar. Mechanical transient from Sierra two-two. Consistent with weapon impact.”

  Buglione scratched his head. What the hell … Not only did the Russian submarine not evade, but the exercise torpedo hadn’t turned away once it had closed to a range which would guarantee a hit. American and Russian exercise torpedoes had safety features built in so they didn’t smash into their targets. No need to waste a three-million-dollar weapon each time—they floated to the surface after each run and were then refurbished.

  Even more important, the safety features existed to prevent the torpedo from damaging the target submarine. While a broadside hit wasn’t a concern, a torpedo closing from astern could get sucked into the screw or propulsor, causing tens of millions of dollars in damage to the precision-machined blades, requiring a complete screw or propulsor replacement.

  The Executive Officer announced, “Possible target zig, Master one and Sierra two-two due to change in bearing rate.”

  A moment later, he confirmed the zigs, reporting that both contacts had turned to the south, toward Kola Bay. It looked like they were headed home. Another surprise, calling it a day after a single torpedo firing.

  Buglione maneuvered Pittsburgh into Kazan’s baffles again, then returned to his chair on the Conn. He tried to make sense of today’s bizarre exercise. Only one torpedo had been fired, the target submarine hadn’t evaded, and the torpedo had smashed into the target. Zero-for-three when it came to typical TORPEXs.

  And where in the hell did that second submarine come from? The intelligence summary received this morning listed no other Russian submarines in the Barents Sea or making preparations to get underway.

  Buglione called out to the open microphone in the overhead. “Sonar, Conn. Have you classified Sierra two-two?”

  “Conn, Sonar. Negative. It doesn’t match anything in the database. If we had to make a call, we’d say it’s a Yasen class, but it’s got several tonals never observed from either Severodvinsk or Kazan.”

  Buglione acknowledged Sonar, then his thoughts returned to the unusual Russian exercise. He had questions, but no answers. Maybe the analysts back home would figure things out, poring over the data once Pittsburgh transmitted its message with the TORPEX details.

  CHAPTER 3

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  In the backseat of a black sedan speeding down South Capitol Street, National Security Advisor Christine O’Connor sat beside the president’s senior military aide, Marine Corps Colonel Bill DuBose. As their car crossed over the Anacostia River, headed toward Maryland, she opened a folder on her lap and reviewed the outline for today’s meeting. The topic was one she wasn’t looking forward to.

  Russia.

  America’s war with Russia had been short but intense, and the casualties hadn’t been limited to the soldiers and sailors involved in the conflict. Christine had done her part, a pawn in the effort to checkmate the Russian president, and had paid a price. Since her return to the White House, she hadn’t spoken about what happened to her in Russia; how she’d been handcuffed to a pipe above her head and tormented by the director of Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service. Christine had provided the details to her CIA debriefers and she was sure the president and his chief of staff had read the report. But thankfully, neither man had brought the topic up.

  The cuts around her wrists where the handcuffs had dug into her flesh were hidden by her business suit and blouse sleeves, but the thin slice across her cheek remained faintly visible beneath her makeup. Although no one seemed to notice the scar, she saw it each time she looked in the mirror.

  Christine studied the document on her lap, trying to focus on the upcoming meeting. Although the president’s intelligence briefings, which included an update from Christine, were short, it took extensive preparation to generate the condensed nuggets of information presented to the president. Each week, Christine met with representatives from one of America’s sixteen intelligence agencies. She’d asked Colonel DuBose to accompany her today, since today’s meeting would have a military flair—Navy to be exact—as they would be briefed by members of the Office of Naval Intelligence.

  Tasked with maintaining a decisive information advantage over America’s adversaries, ONI focused on naval weapons and technology. The read-ahead on Christine’s lap contained the agenda for today’s meeting: an update on the Russian Navy and especially its submarine fleet, which remained a potent threat despite America’s recent victory. Of particular interest was K-561 Kazan, Russia’s newest and most advanced nuclear-powered attack submarine, which had been withheld from the intense battle for some reason.

  The sedan pulled to a halt at a guarded gate just off Suitland Parkway, and after security credentials were reviewed, it was waved into the forty-two-acre compound housing the National Maritime Intelligence Center. After the sedan stopped in front of the four-story building, Christine slipped the folder into her leather briefcase and stepped from the car, joined by Colonel DuBose. Waiting inside the lobby was Carmen Aguirre, a senior supervisor in the three-thousand-member organization.

  “Good morning, Christine,” Carmen said as they shook hands. “It’s good to see you again.” Her eyes went to the Marine beside Christine.

  “Colonel Bill DuBose,” Christine said, “the president’s new senior military aide.”

  Carmen escorted Christine and DuBose to a third-floor conference room occupied by eight men and women. Carmen made the introductions, informing Christine that today’s brief would be led by Dave Harrelson and Eric Mason, with the supporting cast present in case additional details were required.

  As Christine took her seat at the head of the table with DuBose beside her, Carmen explained, “Dave Harrelson is our senior expert on Russian torpedoes. Eric Mason oversees Russian submarine technology.”

  Harrelson was the first to brief, handing classified presentations to Christine and DuBose. “Last week,” Harrelson began, “one of our submarines in the Barents Sea was fortunate enough to witness a Russian torpedo exercise. After reviewing the data, it became clear this wasn’t a normal training exercise. We believe the Russians are testing a new torpedo.”

  “Why do you think that?” Christine asked.

  “Two reasons. The first is that the target submarine didn’t evade, which means its sole purpose was to serve as a target, and the second is that the Russians employed set-to-hit shots, which means they let the torpedo smash into the target instead of activating the usual safety features. American and Russian exercise torpedoes usually employ a turn-away feature or run the torpedo at a different depth from the target to prevent damage to the torpedo and submarine.

  “On occasion, we employ set-to-hit shots to verify the final homing and detonation phases, but only when we’re testing new torpedoes or significant upgrades to our current inventory. Set-to-hit torpedoes have dummy, instrumented warheads so we can verify the exploder mechanism sends the fire signal, with the data sent back to the submarine over the torpedo’s guidance wire.”

  Harrelson went on to explain that modern heavyweight torpedoes had thin guidance wires attached to the torpedo while they pursued their target, over which the submarine crew could send new commands and the torpedo could send back target and torpedo data.

  “Which gets me to the exciting part,” Harrelson said. “We believe Russia has developed a new torpedo, and we know where it smashed into the target submarine and went to the bottom, which means…” Harrelson paused for effect, and Christine ventured a guess.

  “We can retrieve it.”

  “Exactly,” Harrelson replied. “We’re coordinating with COMSUBFOR staff, arranging a pickup. USS Jimmy Carter has the requisite equipment, but just entered dry dock for a three-month-long maintenance period. A viable alternative is USS Michigan. The water depth where the Russian torpedo exercise occurred is shallow enough for the SEAL Delivery Vehicle aboard, and the SEALs have buoyancy devices they can use to lift the torpedo from the bottom. The only challenge is finding the torpedo. Fortunately, Russian exercise torpedoes, like American ones, have end-of-run pingers which help locate the torpedo if it goes to the bottom or starts to float away on the surface while it’s waiting to be retrieved. USS Pittsburgh returned to the area where the Russian torpedo went to the bottom and verified that its pinger is operating.

  “Michigan should receive orders today. We’re hoping the Russians aren’t interested in retrieving their smashed torpedo or aren’t in a hurry to do so. Once we have it, we’ll send it to one of our undersea warfare centers for analysis.”

  Harrelson finished with, “Any questions, Miss O’Connor?”

  Christine looked up from her notepad as she finished adding a comment. “I think I understand everything.” She queried Colonel DuBose, who shook his head.

  Harrelson turned to Mason. “Eric will discuss a more perplexing issue.”

  Eric Mason handed copies of his brief to Christine and Colonel DuBose. “The target submarine in the Russian torpedo exercise took everyone here by surprise. It’s Alexander, the third Yasen class submarine.”

  “Why were you surprised?” Christine asked.

  “Because Alexander hasn’t been completed yet, or so we thought. Our latest intel indicated she’s at least a year away from completing construction. Then we spotted her pulling into port with her sister ship, Kazan, the day of the torpedo exercise. The Russians must have gone into around-the-clock shiftwork at least two years ago, and they apparently implemented a firm security lockdown because none of our sources near the Sevmash shipyard where Alexander was being built gave us a heads-up. Alexander was also launched in complete secrecy, pulled out from the covered construction facility and launched at night, so we wouldn’t detect the launch via satellite. That begs the questions—why the accelerated construction schedule, and why the secret launch?”

  Mason flipped a page on his presentation, revealing a satellite picture of a submarine tied to a pier. “What’s even more interesting is Alexander itself. At first, we didn’t know which class of submarine we were looking at, because it’s sixty feet longer than the two previous Yasen class submarines. Upon close examination, however, we realized it is a Yasen class, except it’s got an extra sixty-foot-long hull section inserted between the reactor and forward compartments.”

  “Like Jimmy Carter?” Christine asked, referring to the Seawolf class submarine and its secretive additional compartment.

  “That’d be a good analogy,” Mason replied. “But it’s unlikely Alexander is Jimmy Carter’s counterpart. That honor belongs to Podmoskovye, a modified Delta IV. Alexander’s extra compartment isn’t long enough to handle the equipment the Russians have developed for use with its Jimmy Carter version. So why was the hull extended?”

  Mason added, “We’ve requested additional reconnaissance satellites be brought to bear on the issue, and we’re pressing on the human intelligence front. The CIA has their hooks into several high-ranking Russian Navy officials, and they’re going to see what they can find out.”

  Carmen informed Christine, “This concludes our briefs. Is there anything else we can help you with today?”

  Christine spent a few minutes reviewing what remained of the Russian surface navy, which had been devastated by the American task force two weeks earlier, as well as the status of the five aircraft carriers and their escorts participating in the attack. All five carriers had been heavily damaged and only two were currently operational, with the other three on their way back to shipyards for repair.

  After the update, Christine asked Colonel DuBose, “Do you have any questions?”

  DuBose shook his head. “None from me.”

  Christine thanked Harrelson and Mason, along with the others around the table, then turned to Carmen. “Inform me if you discover anything significant about Russia’s new torpedo or modified Yasen class.”

  CHAPTER 4

  USS MICHIGAN

  USS Michigan was headed east across the Pacific Ocean, approaching the end of its communication broadcast window. Standing on the Conn in the submarine’s Control Room, Lieutenant Clif Bradley lifted his hands in the darkness, rotating the periscope ring above his head.

  “Raising number two scope.”

  As the periscope slid silently up from its well, Bradley held his hands out near his waist on each side of the scope barrel until the periscope handles hit his palms. When the scope finished its ascent, he snapped the handles down and pressed his face against the eyepiece, checking the periscope settings. With a flick of his left wrist, he tilted the scope optics skyward. But there was only darkness.

  Bradley called out to the microphone in the overhead, “All stations, Conn. Proceeding to periscope depth.” Sonar, Radio, and Nav Center acknowledged, then Bradley ordered, “Dive, make your depth eight-zero feet.”

 

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