jeopardy.
He studied the map as it showed not just the coast, but the interloping submarine as well. It had to be a Western sub, and probably an American. Or possibly more than one, according to Orlov. That worried him. They would not send more than one sub to such a remote location unless they knew what was there. Had someone learned of the cache? If they had proof, they would have already trumpeted the news to the world. So there was still time to keep the secret, and make a few sales. He had contacted a number of countries who would pay handsomely for a fully functional one hundred fifty kiloton nuclear warhead. He had plenty to sell.
The instant the Manta was secure, Jerry headed for sickbay, anxious to see the COB and Harris. He had to use his rank to open a hole in the large crowd that filled the passageway. It seemed that almost everyone not on watch was there, asking after the two divers. He was just starting to make progress when resistance suddenly ceased, and he realized the enlisted men around him had snapped to attention. Instinctively, he joined them, stepping to one side and making himself as thin as he could.
Moving into the space Jerry had just made, the XO, followed by Hardy and Patterson, headed into sickbay. Hardy nodded to Jerry as they passed and said, “Come with us if you like, Mr. Mitchell.”
Jerry ended up standing in the doorway, with Hardy, Bair and Patterson barely able to move as the corpsman made his report. “They’ll both be fine, but I recommend bed rest and fluids for the rest of the day. That water is above freezing, but not by much, and it put a tremendous strain on their bodies. Luckily, they were both in good health.”
“Fine, Chief,” Bair answered. “Can we speak to them?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Noonan as he fiddled with Reynolds’ oxygen mask. He stepped to one side as much as the crowded space allowed.
Reynolds and Harris sat reclined on the single bunk. Both were under several blankets with their faces obscured by oxygen masks. A heated IV bag hung over each of them, with the tube leading under the blankets.
Reynolds’ face was strained, but he managed to prop himself up as the Captain stepped up to the bunk.
“That was excellent work, COB. You and Harris both did a five-oh job.”
“Thank you, sir,” Reynolds beamed. Any praise from Hardy was rare, but then Jerry knew they’d both earned it. “We didn’t stop to count, but there were dozens of those cases in there, sir, all the same. It’s a warhead, isn’t it? A nuke?”
Hardy and Patterson both nodded. “It can’t be anything else,” he answered. “Although you were closer to it than we were. What can you tell us about it?”
“The sumbitch was heavy, I’ll say that. It had a smooth finish, but there were markings on the case and on the warhead inside.” He motioned to a slate lying on a counter nearby. “I copied them as best I could.”
Bair, closest, picked up the slate and held it so that Hardy and Patterson could see it as well. Jerry could see that there was something written on the slate, but not what it said.
Patterson shook her head. “I can’t read Russian, and the numbers don’t tell me anything.”
Bair said, “With your permission, sir, I’ll take this and start working on it.” Hardy nodded and Bair stepped out into the passageway and hurried forward.
Jerry resisted the urge to follow him; he was just as curious as the next guy to find out what they had stashed in the Manta skirt, but he wanted to see the COB first.
They’d managed to obtain two Russian nuclear warheads. The thought still boggled his mind. He’d love to have a closer look at one, but they were out of reach at the moment.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else I can tell you,” Reynolds apologized, but Hardy shook his head. “You’ve done more than enough, Master Chief,” the Captain reminded him.
Patterson, beaming, said, “The President will hear about this,” then bent down and hugged Reynolds, and then Harris. Both managed to look pleased and embarrassed under their oxygen masks. She quickly stood, then left, with Hardy following them back up to control.
Jerry waited his turn while the men congratulated the divers. He stepped forward when the crowd thinned.
“I’m glad you’re back in one piece, Master Chief.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Mr. Mitchell. Thanks for getting us back.”
“So, how was the ride?” asked Jerry with genuine curiosity.
“Bumpy. And the in-flight service was terrible,” joked Reynolds, grinning. But Jerry noticed that it was a weak one.
“I still wish that I’d been out there with you, COB.”
“I think Petty Officer Harris does, too,” Reynolds answered. Harris managed to nod his head in agreement.
“I just wanted to stop by and congratulate you two and ask if there’s anything you need.”
“Aw, sir, I’m not dying. I just need to take a nap.”
“For about a week,” added Harris.
“I’m just glad a good pilot was working the Manta, sir.”
“We’ve all got plenty to be grateful for, Master Chief. I need to get going and you guys go and take that nap — right now.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” winked Reynolds.
Talking about sleep with Reynolds reminded Jerry of his own fatigue and hunger. It was well after dinnertime, and he’d missed lunch. And he couldn’t remember the last time he had had more than a few hours of sleep at one time. Ship’s routine, as busy as it was, suddenly seemed like the nostalgic past. For all the pressure of his work and his qualifications, at least it was predictable. Two and a half weeks of survey work had left him thoroughly bone- tired. But now the Captain had turned
He headed for the wardroom, figuring to scrounge a sandwich, but found most of the officers had the same idea. There was only one topic of discussion.
“. cheaper to dump them than destroy them,” Jeff Ho was saying as he came in.
Harry O’Connell, the navigator, countered, “But wouldn’t you be worried about somebody else going down and finding them, stealing them for their own use?”
Ho shrugged. “I wouldn’t advertise where I dumped them, and there’s not a lot of sport diving in the Kara Sea.”
“And that would explain the sensors,” Cal Richards added.
“But these warheads aren’t supposed to exist.” Everyone turned to see the XO standing in the door, the slate and several books in his arms. Jerry could see the books were intelligence publications with brightly colored security markings on the covers.
Bair stepped toward the table and they hurriedly cleared a place for him to sit down.
“I’ve already reported to Dr. Patterson and the Captain, and he says there’s no reason not to tell you guys about this,” he announced as he settled into his seat. “I can’t read Russian, and most of these numbers are meaningless to me, but I did find enough to tell us what we need to know.
“The markings on the case and the warhead are similar, except for a serial number, which appears to be in the same series. They both include the sequence ‘15Zh45.’ That looked like an article number.”
Jerry saw several heads nod in agreement. Russian military equipment had several different designations. While it was being developed, it would have one name, then the factory would call it something else, and the military service that actually used it would have a different name. And then there was the name that NATO had given it, because often the West didn’t learn its true name or designation until after it had been in service for some
