some inward thing in a far off corner of his mind. “I’m getting old, Dmitri,” he said sullenly. “I thought I would finish out my days at home with my grandchildren on my knee and a nice garden. Now here I am with the fate of the world on my shoulders, and that home I imagine no longer even exists, just as you say. This is somewhere in the mind and soul of every man aboard this ship, and younger men are adventurous. They are hungry. They see the days ahead as something to be discovered, something gained, and not as something to be settled and given a proper balance, not as a place to find rest and ease of mind. They have not yet lived, and they are reaching, planning. Me? I am tired. I want to sit down under a palm tree with a good glass of wine and read. Yet I do not think any of us will find that island you spoke of once, with all the pretty Polynesian girls. Things are coming to a boiling point soon. We cannot sail about taking shots at any ship that comes near us. At some point this must resolve. It has to be settled.”
“Resolve to what, Leonid? What are you going to do?”
“This business at Argentia Bay-the Atlantic Charter. Perhaps I can put some jam and honey on the table for the Russia that emerges from this war.”
“How? You mean you intend to go there yourself and speak your mind with Roosevelt and Churchill after what Karpov has done?”
“I considered it. Stalin was not invited, but they are bringing all their admirals and generals. I am Grand Admiral of the Russian Northern Fleet, or so you tell me.”
“Yes, I tell you that, but can you tell that to Churchill and Roosevelt? This is risky, Leonid. Assuming you convince them of who and what we are; where we have come from-assuming they believe what you tell them, then would they not see you as a valuable asset?”
“Of course, that was my hope.”
“But think…If you were at war in our day, and had a man here who knew the history yet to come, every battle, every mistake made, would you not keep him close?”
“You are suggesting I would be taken prisoner?”
“That is a likely outcome should you place yourself in a situation where you cannot easily regain your freedom.”
The Admiral considered this, nodding. “I had come to this reasoning myself some time ago,” he confessed. “But I just wanted to see what you might think of the prospect and I think you are correct. A visit with Churchill and Roosevelt sounds appealing, even exciting. But it would be most unwise. I gave it some thought, for a long time, perhaps too long.”
“Is this why you have allowed the ship to remain on this course?” Zolkin questioned him further. “You were thinking of joining this meeting? I’m afraid that Karpov may have other thoughts about this situation. Mark my words-he intends a show of force, and if the Allies gather in strength, he will meet fire with fire. And so, old man, if you ever do want to sit under that palm tree and read, you had better get yourself back up to the bridge. I certify you as healthy and fit for duty. It’s Orlov’s watch now. Karpov has been prowling around below decks, but I think you should get there soon.”
Volsky sighed. “I suppose you are right. I do feel much myself now. Thank you, Dmitri.”
“And Admiral…Should you need an ally, you know you can count on me. I was not kidding when I told Karpov it was mine to certify the health and fitness of any man aboard-be it physical or mental health. If Karpov becomes a problem…”
Volsky nodded silently. “Let us hope that he does not,” he said quietly.
Trouble was brewing on the cold grey swells of the sea. Rodenko had a KA-40 up earlier to keep watch on the American task force withdrawing to the south. The ships turned southwest on a heading of 230 degrees, a course that would bring it round the cape of Newfoundland, and Orlov had carried out Karpov’s instructions, following on a parallel course to the north. Earlier, they had spotted a single aircraft on radar, tracking out from Newfoundland, and the Chief let it be. He did not want to bring the ship to action stations again and fire off a SAM for this one plane, or so he reasoned it. And all the better if it would keep the Admiral from trying to return to the bridge.
Now that Karpov was here, Orlov was glad to hand over the watch. Orlov loved to second orders, but was a bit unsure of himself when it came to tactics in a battle situation at sea. If anything happened, he would rely on Samsonov, but Karpov was Captain for a reason. He knew what he was about, when to turn, when to shoot, how fast to go.
The Captain took stock of the situation and increased to 30 knots, his heart racing with the ship’s engines. How long before Volsky tried the door? When would the next stupid seaman slink off to sick bay to shirk his duty and find the hatch sealed? How much time did he have? A voice warned him again, plaintive and fearful, the squeak of the mouse within-he could still back out of this. He could rush below, pretend to discover the lock on the door and blame it on an unseen conspirator. He could launch the investigation himself, pretending to be Volsky’s friend and loyal ally all along. Only Orlov knew more, and the Chief would keep his mouth shut, wouldn’t he? He could deny the entire conversation with Martinov, or get to him first with a threat to make him pay dearly if he opened his mouth. How much time did he have?
Rodenko’s voice reporting a new contact jangled his nerves, snapping him back to the moment at hand. Search radar reported what looked like another storm front on the horizon to the south. There were many ship contacts, all arrayed in a number of surface action groups, a storm of steel slowly moving north towards their position.
“How many ships?” Karpov asked quickly.
“Seven ships here in the American Task force that has been withdrawing, but they have turned now, Captain. They are now heading north. Then I count eight more ships here-the signal returns are smaller, weaker. I think these are destroyers like the one we encountered off Jan Mayen. Over here, another eight ships, a mixed force, most likely the British, and I think heavy units are present-most likely the ships we fired on earlier.”
“They are setting up a picket line and they plan to sweep north and catch us like a fish in a net.” Karpov’s mind worked quickly. “Fedorov, can you confirm what these ships might be?”
There was no answer, and Orlov spoke. “You sent Fedorov below, Captain. Tovarich is at navigation.”
“Of course.” Karpov rubbed his chin.
“How far away are these ships?” The Captain turned to his radar station where Rodenko was busy monitoring his screens.
“150 to 200 kilometers, sir,” said Rodenko. “The number one group is a little closer, small contacts, probably American destroyers.
“They are all moving north?”
“Yes, sir.”
Orlov looked at him, his eyebrows raised, waiting on a decision from the Captain. Karpov seemed edgy, nervous, like a bow string that had been pulled back too far. The strain was obviously getting to him as well. The Captain looked exhausted now as he looked at Orlov.
“Your thoughts, Mister Orlov?” He said that just loud enough for the bulk of the bridge crew to hear him, as if he wanted a second voice to back him now in the decision that was percolating to a boil in his mind. It was mere theater, Orlov knew. The Captain knew what he wanted to do, what he had been planning to do all along. He was just covering his tracks, that was all.
“They are out in force today, Captain. And I think they are coming for us. At the moment we are cruising straight for the coast of Newfoundland. If they sweep up north they will herd us into the Sea of Labrador, and I think we both know there is no northwest passage.”
“We are not going to be swept anywhere we do not intend to go,” said Karpov derisively.
At that moment the motley Tasarov shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He stiffened, his eyes opening wide, listening intently on his sonar headphones as if he could not believe what he was hearing.
“Con, sonar- torpedo in the water!”
Karpov spun about, anger and shock on his face. “Where?”
“Bearing… zero-nine-five and closing!”
“Battle stations! Helm ahead full! Port thirty!” Karpov immediately shouted out an order for evasive maneuvers.
“Ready on countermeasures,” said Tasarov.
