Cold Choices

Figg shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. Captain Jonson, what is your best speed?”

“Twelve knots.”

Figg spoke into a handheld radio, then turned back to the two men. “Captain Jonson, Mr. Brewer, you are in violation of Article Twenty-five of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea. We are confiscating all recording devices aboard — cameras, tape recorders, cell phones, all of it.” Brewer started to protest, but Figg cut him off. “It will all be logged and carefully handled. After your case is disposed, if the Russians choose, they can return your equipment to you.”

“The Russians?” A shocked Brewer started to ask a question, but Figg’s radio barked and he listened for a moment.

“Captain Jonson, you will steer course one nine seven for Severomorsk harbor, where your boat will be impounded by the Russian authorities. At a speed of twelve knots, you are expected to arrive by 1830 tomorrow evening. Senior-Lieutenant Andreyev and Warrant Officer Babochkin of the Russian Federation Navy will remain aboard as liaisons.”

Brewer exploded. “You can’t turn us over to the Russians!”

Figg answered, “This is a legally declared military exclusion zone to effect the rescue of a Russian submarine. You’ve knowingly violated an official announcement by the Russian Federation government, with a senior Russian naval officer in command of the operation. You’re trespassing on their estate. Who did you think you’d be dealing with?”

Figg ordered his team, “Search the boat.” Johnson motioned for his first mate to go with them as Brewer looked on in complete amazement. A pile quickly developed on the aft deck, although it took almost half an hour to find not only the INN video equipment, but also personal cell phones and even a crewman’s personal camera.

While the contraband was loaded into Churchill’s whaleboat, Figg warned Jonson, “If you do not reach Severomorsk by 1830 tomorrow evening, your boat will be confiscated. You will be tracked by aviation assets and from shore until you arrive. If you have difficulties, we will be monitoring the standard international distress frequencies.”

Jonson nodded silently.

Brewer made one last plea. “This is insane. Nobody was hurt. Why can’t we just turn around? We’ll go back to Alesund.”

“You ignored warnings from two different aircraft, and lied to us about your business here. Be grateful it was an American vessel that intercepted you. And by the by, there is a formal billet for a Royal Navy officer on board USS Churchill as a tribute to Sir Winston. Have a good day, sir.”

27. SECOND TRY

12 October 2008

0815/8:15 AM

Rescue site, Barents Sea

Borisov and Lindstrom had agreed to wait until it was light to move the cables from the buoys to the tugs. In spite of the urgency, there was no rush to perform this step. The limiting factor, especially after the loss of AS-34 Priz, was still the number of dives needed to lay the line charges and attach the last cables to Severodvinsk. The two Norwegian ROVs had held up so far, which meant they were still on schedule for the second attempt early that afternoon.

Halsfjord’s two vehicles would keep working during the transfer, both laying the charges that would break the Russian sub free of the bottom. On the surface, the salvage tug Altay backed carefully until it was only meters from one of two buoys, each a checkered orange and white sphere almost ten meters in diameter. Cables from Severodvinsk curved up out of the water to huge padeyes on the sides of the buoy. Those cables would be transferred from each buoy to one of the tugs.

A workboat passed close alongside Altay. A crewman on the back of the tug tossed a “monkey fist” to the men in the boat. Nothing more than a ball wrapped with cord, it trailed a thin line. The men on the boat started pulling on the line while the men on the tug payed it out. After a dozen meters, the line became cord, then after another interval rope, then after a longer span, a nylon hawser over an inch in diameter.

Motoring over to the buoy, the workboat’s crew attached the line to the cable, passing it through the six-inch loop on the end. It was difficult work, with the boat and buoy moving in the swells, sometimes banging into each other hard enough to break bones, if anyone was careless enough to get in the way.

The final step was to unscrew the heavy padeye, allowing the cable end with the hawser attached to drop free. As it hit the water, a winch on Altay started up, pulling the hawser in toward the tug’s stern. Once the hawser had pulled the cable aboard, it was slipped over a bollard at the stern. With the cable safely attached to the tug, the workboat went back to get the next cable.

Each tug would pull three cables, going to Severodvinsk’s bow, midsection, and stern. It was important to have the tugs doubling up. With each tug pulling on Severodvinsk’s bow, middle, and stern, there would be fewer problems in synchronizing their pulling power. It also provided a safeguard against a cable parting, or, God forbid, an engine failing on one of the tugs.

But it meant that the cables had to be different lengths, carefully calculated and cut, and once the tugs took the cables aboard, they were stuck to that one spot in the ocean where their three cables came together.

Five were already laid out to Severodvinsk, and with the arrival of the tugs, the last one would be attached directly to Pamir.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the seabed, Halsfjord’s two remotes worked carefully, laying fifteen-kilogram charges as far under the hull as possible. It was a time-consuming process because the mud and silt had to be cleared away before each charge was emplaced. In fact, the charges were being placed where the mud was thickest, as much as two meters. The explosions had a much better chance of freeing the sub if they went off inside the mud, next to the underlying rock, instead of just resting on top.

Another complication was that the charges would be detonated by electrical signals over wire, instead of by an acoustic signal, as they were the first time. The speed of sound in water was slow enough that a fraction of a second would pass between the nearest charges getting the signal and the ones farther away. Instead, the detonation signal would be sent over wires carefully cut to an exact length so that they went off in a staggered sequence, a ripple effect from stem to stern.

The web of detonation wires and cables required the remote vehicles to steer a careful path each time they approached the downed submarine, and as they ascended. It all took time.

* * *

After connecting the last cable to Severodvinsk’s hull from Pamir, the ROV did not immediately ascend to the surface. Instead, it rose just a little and turned to “face” the sub. Powerful lights illuminated the hull as it glided above the hull toward the bow. It slowed to almost a crawl, then followed the streamlined curve of the sail. Finally, embedded in the middle of the sail, the grayish outline of the rescue chamber’s panels came into sight.

The operator, sitting in Halsfjord, brought the ROV to a stop. “There it is,” announced Lindstrom. He told the operator, “Get as close as you can, then circle it.”

A Russian observer aboard Halsfjord, a qualified submariner, studied the image closely. The picture was also broadcast to Petr Velikiy, Rudnitskiy, and to Churchill.

USS Churchill

Aboard Churchill, a TV monitor in CIC displayed the underwater image sent by Halsfjord. Patterson, Russo, and Baker had the front-row seats, while the rest of her group and many of the crew clustered behind as closely as rank would permit. The grayish boundary of the escape chamber stood out clearly from the black anechoic coating.