Kirov II: Cauldron of Fire

for it. I was only informed this morning.”

“Then it must be a French ship,” said Syfret. “They’ve been goading the Vichy Fleet to Join Admiral Darlan for some time.”

“That was my opinion as well, but Admiralty isn’t sure. A few things add up. If it was a Vichy French ship it might be likely to take a shot at anything that came in range. That much makes sense. Then again, it might be a renegade ship and crew making a run out of Toulon. Nobody knows for sure, but we do know one thing, this ship is heading our way, and we’re to see that it gets nowhere near Gibraltar.”

“Well if it drove off a pair of Italian battleships it would have to be the Dunkerque, Strausbourg, or perhaps even both. Then again, Dunkerque took quite a pounding at Mers-el Kebir. Ark Royal put a torpedo into her a few days later for good measure. It would have to be Strasbourg. She got clean away in that incident, and was still seaworthy. Probably the only ship the French still have that might have a chance against the Italians like that.”

“This is what I suggested, but Admiralty isn’t sure.”

“What do you mean they aren’t sure? What else could it be?”

“They haven’t been able to get a long range reconnaissance flight over Toulon to see if all the eggs are still in the nest, and until they do, well, you know the routine.”

“Too well, I’m afraid.”

“Right then. They’ve given this ship, or ships, a codename—calling it Geronimo. That is to be kept close to your vest and not shared with anyone without this nice thick stripe on his cuff.” He pointed to his own cuff insignia, the thick gold base braid that indicated Admiral. “This ship appears to be heading our way, and they want us to find it and say hello. We’ll have company soon. Admiral Tovey is at sea this very moment with Home Fleet.”

“I see…” That last bit surprised Syfret. “Do you think that is really necessary? I certainly hope we won’t have another incident with the French, Sir Bruce. Wasn’t Mers-el-Kebir enough of a thumb in their eye?”

“If it comes down to it, your orders are to stop this ship, by whatever means. It may be running for Dakar, but it is not to approach Gibraltar. Supposing it is a renegade French ship, we have yet to know who’s side it might end up on. Strausbourg has eight big guns, all forward, and it seems to fit the general profile of this Geronimo—one main tower amidships, and a smaller one behind. I’d hate to see those 13 inch guns lobbing shells at Gibraltar. If we do have a disaffected captain out there, he may be looking to stick us one for Mers-el-Kebir.”

Fraser was referring to the regrettable but necessary decision by Admiral Somerville to order the British Fleet, Force H out of Gibraltar in fact, to fire on the French fleet at Mers-el-Kebir on Aboukir Bay when they refused to surrender.

“Some feel that the French may have even gotten wind of this Operation Torch, and that this might be some sort of preemptive action against Gibraltar, or even an attempt to reinforce their forces in North Africa.”

“I see, “ said Syfret, thinking for a moment. “Strausbourg can run up near thirty knots, Sir Bruce. You’re aware of the situation with Rodney. We’ve been lucky to make eighteen knots today.”

“And it’s likely we’ll have to trim that to fifteen knots. Those boilers are insufferable, but we’ll have to keep pushing on as best we can. It’s imperative that we get the cork in the bottle before this ship breaks through to Gibraltar.”

Fraser had put the best possible explanation to the mystery, and if he knew any more than he said, he wasn’t prepared to share it at the moment. Yet he reinforced the one message he had come to deliver here, leaning in to emphasize his point. “We’re to sink this ship if she won’t heave to, Admiral.” The added formality made it plain that this was an order.

“Very good, sir. If we get in front of them I think Nelson and Rodney can handle the matter.”

“Right you are.” Fraser’s tea was cold and he stared listlessly at the half empty cup. He knew that Tovey was heading south as well with a lot more firepower to throw in, though he couldn’t imagine why if this was, indeed, the Strausbourg as he suspected. It seemed entirely too much bother for a lone French battleship, but there it was. The Admiralty obviously knew, or at least believed, that this Geronimo was more of a threat than it seemed in his own mind. The fact that they cancelled Operation Jubilee was one surprise. Now he reasoned that the potential threat to the Operation Torch landing may be behind it all. If this French renegade were to add steel to the Vichy bastions on the North African coast it could become quite a problem. Still, this business about the rocketry was dangling like a badly tied shoe at inspection. He sighed heavily, sitting back in his chair.

“The world is going to hell, Neville. The whole bloody world is mixed up in this war now.”

“Sadly so, sir Bruce,” said Syfret, reaching for the tea pot to warm his friend’s cup. “But at least we’ve got our tea.”

Part IX DESERTION

“Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape.”

~ William S. Burroughs

Chapter 25

At 18:00 hours Orlov got the word he had been waiting for. They wanted the KA-226 scout helo rigged for takeoff and mounted with the new Oko 901-M early warning radar panel. The Oko, or ‘Eye,’ was first deployed on the older KA-31 around the turn of the century, and the 901 model was a more compact panel that was mounted on the underside of the fuselage and could be deployed by the pilot to a assume a vertical position in flight. It would rotate slowly, and provided a 360° azimuthal coverage. The surveillance range against a fighter aircraft target was up to 150 kilometers, and for ships this range could extend to 200 kilometers.

Apparently someone on the bridge wanted to have a look around, he thought. When he heard the work order come down, he rushed to his quarters under the pretense that he was going to get the proper tools to rig the device, inwardly rubbing his hands together, and sure that this was his one last chance to do what he had planned.

Back in the helicopter bay below the flight deck he supervised the installation of the Oko panel, as he had many times in the past, occasionally taking a tool in hand and making adjustments. The two able seamen also assigned to his engineering detail pretty much wanted to stay out of his way, and no one said anything when he blustered about their sloppy work and claimed he was going to have to board the helo for the mission to make sure the damn thing deployed properly. He pointed a spanner at Ludvich, always finding a scapegoat first unless something really went wrong. Then he donned a flight jacket and helmet, muttering to himself as he boarded the helo. The pilot looked over his shoulder, surprised to see Orlov in the rear compartment.

“What are you doing, Lieutenant? There’s supposed to be a Marine guard aboard.”

“Don’t call me Lieutenant, Pratkin, you stupid oaf. Haven’t you heard? I’m in the Marines now, so get moving. Our baby faced Captain wanted this helo up ten minutes ago. If you want to make sure your damn radar panel deploys, be glad I’m here with my tools. Those idiots used the wrong control cables and I will have to work on it in