had gone gray.
“We’ve had penetrations of our waters before, and the West thinks that with us facing hard times they can enter our territory at will. Captain Orlov says there are ‘multiple sources.’ It sounds like there is more than one submarine, possibly several. Why would they need so many if they weren’t making some sort of major effort against us?
“They’re not expecting a massive response, and a massive response is the only way to deal with this type of attack. Our training budget just became our operating budget, and Andrei, this sounds like exactly the time to dip into war reserves.”
The admiral leaned forward a little, driving home his point to the staff. “And think of what happens when we catch him! We will make the Americans and the others respect our waters and prevent who knows how many future incursions.”
He turned to the supply officer. “And consider this, Andrei. What better way to get more funding for our Fleet than showing what we can do? With a success like this, I guarantee that I’ll be in Moscow the next day, demanding that they give us enough support to operate the Northern Fleet properly.”
Then he dropped his bombshell. “And Andrei, also use war reserves to make sure that every ship has a full load of ordnance, not just antisubmarine, but gun and missile ammunition as well. I want these intruders caught, and if they don’t respond to our challenges, then they will be sunk.”
Everyone looked surprised, but his deputy, Admiral Sergetev, was the only one who spoke up. “Sir, the chance of catching them in territorial waters is. ”
“I don’t care if they’re in our waters when you find them. They were in our waters, and we have the array data as proof.” He spoke more formally. “If the intruding submarines do not answer your challenge or comply with your instructions, you will attack with all your weapons and sink them. The Kara Sea is shallow. The hulk of a Western sub is just as convincing as a live one and will make our point about the sovereignty of Russian territorial waters even more effectively.”
Sergetev, maybe because he was the one who would actually control the operation, risked another question. “Sir, are you formally changing the Fleet’s Rules of Engagement?”
Those rules had been drafted by the Naval Staff and approved by the highest levels of the Russian government. They described in excruciating detail when and under what conditions a Russian naval unit could fire at a foreign one. Every naval officer in the Fleet was expected to be able to quote them verbatim. In the past, only intruders actually encountered in territorial waters could be engaged, and then only after several challenges and if there was evidence of hostile intent.
“I’ve already spoken to Moscow and they’ve approved the change for this specific incident. They are not happy with the idea of several Western submarines in our territory. Of course, if this doesn’t work out well, I’ll be the one explaining to Moscow.”
That had the effect he’d expected, and the staff looked more willing to carry out the order, almost excited. Moscow’s approval of the Admiral’s orders removed any misgivings they might have had.
“I want reports on the status of all units and expected sailing times in an hour. Ivan, I want your search plan an hour after that. As of this moment, gentlemen, the Northern Fleet is at war. Dismissed.”
Kirichenko watched his staff leave the room, almost at a run. Good, they were motivated, and the lie about Moscow’s approval had effectively dealt with any reservations.
He remained in the briefing room, sipping his tea and studying the charts that covered the walls. Calculating distances and times, he tried to visualize how the prosecution would develop, where the detection might take place. How could he organize the hurriedly assembled units to best effect? He’d spoken in positive terms to his staff, because they needed him to be positive, but he’d been too long in the Fleet to know what the odds were of finding a submarine that did not want to be found.
And this one had to not only be found, but sunk. He had no idea why the sub was there, but if they were, he knew what they’d found.
Right before the breakup of the Soviet Union, as a new Captain First Rank, he’d supervised the disposal of hazardous materials under the aegis of Soviet Military Intelligence, the GRU. He’d directed the dumping of spent fuel, old reactors, and all manner of dangerous items. Being a good officer, he’d made it his business to learn the details of each load.
One load, a barge full of canisters, had attracted his attention. While disposals were handled by the GRU, the material to be disposed of always came from other agencies: the armed forces, medical organizations, or the Ministry of Atomic Energy, Minatom. They all handled or produced radioactive material as a part of their functions, and thus had to dispose of radioactive waste.
But this barge didn’t make sense. According to the paperwork, it carried canisters full of radioactive waste from Minatom, but the authorizing signatures were by GRU officers, not Minatom officials. And the barge had not come from any of the Minatom facilities. Oh, the paperwork said it had, but then he’d checked with the tug that had brought the barge to Arkhangel’sk. It had come up the Dvina River from well inside Mother Russia. Minatom’s waste always came by rail in special cars and was then loaded onto barges for disposal.
At first, he suspected smuggling or possibly espionage. Perhaps someone had cached sensitive equipment or precious metals on the barge, presuming that nobody would want to closely inspect radioactive material. Classified equipment could be sold to the West. Corruption and graft were nothing new in Russia, and the cracks appearing in the Soviet Empire just multiplied the opportunities for enterprising individuals.
To avoid tipping off the criminals, he made several quiet checks, always making sure the enquiry would appear to come from a different part of the government.
And the answer had come quickly. The GRU had indeed falsified the paperwork, but it was not the act of an individual or group of criminals, but the GRU itself. They’d been in too much of a hurry to build a foundation for its “legend,” which helped Kirichenko penetrate the cover quickly. In fact, they’d been rushed — and more than a little scared. Specifically, Soviet Military Intelligence had been handed a hot potato, with orders to fix the problem as quickly, and quietly, as possible.
The Soviet leadership had been cheating on the arms controls accords, producing more warheads than allowed under the treaties. The military had stockpiled them as the ultimate insurance policy, just in case of a surprise attack by the West. Secret even from the armed forces and known only to a few officials, the stockpile would give a devastated Russia a “hole card,” even if all of its other strategic weapons were discovered and destroyed.
Now, with the Soviet Union crumbling around the GRU’s collective heads, the stockpile was a dangerous liability that needed to be disposed of — and swiftly. The warheads could not be easily destroyed. The removed weapons-grade plutonium would raise far too many questions about its origins, and frankly, the money for their disposal would have to be accounted for, if it could be found at all. A simpler and cheaper solution was to just label them as radioactive waste and dump them in the sea.
Kirichenko agreed with their solution, but also saw opportunity in the situation. He did several things. First, he made sure that the special barge was properly scuttled, but not at the location that appeared in the report he sent to GRU headquarters. Then he compiled a list of the people who knew about the operation, and places where there might be records of the shipment or the stockpile.
Finally, using the GRU’s authority, he ordered the deployment of acoustic sensors around the barge. Through some legal trickery — and a few veiled threats — he was able to make the sensors’ deployment look like part of the disposal operation. Nobody questioned their need or purpose.
For fifteen years, Yuri Kirichenko had kept track of all the people and all the documents associated with the secret dumping. He’d been able to surreptitiously remove all of the documents, and he’d kept a close track of those who knew. Everyone, except him, had left the armed services; some had even left Russia. Many had died.
But Kirichenko had steadily risen in rank and power. He became a staunch opponent of graft within the Russian Navy and had jailed several officers for stealing precious metals from decommissioned submarines. He was also instrumental in making the Northern Fleet more efficient with its meager funds, much more so than the Baltic, Black Sea, and Pacific fleets. This had earned Kirichenko an unusual reputation for honesty. He was considered by the Russian government to be above suspicion, completely trustworthy.
And he’d begun to plan for his retirement. It had taken years to build up his contacts within the arms black market, and more time to learn the market. Now fifteen years of hard work and a rich reward were in
