The Seventh Angel

ONIZUKA AIR FORCE STATION

SUNNYVALE, CALIFORNIA

TUESDAY; 26 FEBRUARY

1238 hours (12:38 PM)

TIME ZONE -8 ‘UNIFORM’

Technical Sergeant George Kaulana looked at the two oblong smears of video on the display screen of his SAWS console and raised his eyebrows. “Where are you guys going?” The SAWS console — short for Satellite Analyst Workstation—was receiving an imagery download from Forager 715, a U.S. Air Force Oracle III series surveillance satellite currently passing over southeastern Russia. Forager’s primary surveillance mission was the nuclear reactor facility in Brushehr, Iran, so the perigee of the satellite’s elliptical orbit was designed to bring it to an altitude of only about 280 kilometers during passes over the Middle East. The digital cameras built into the satellite’s 2.4 meter mirror telescope were designed to take their best pictures from that altitude.

At the moment, Forager was on the outbound leg of its transit, heading toward apogee, the farthest reach of its orbit, 1,005 kilometers above the earth. The altitude of the satellite as it passed over southeastern Russia was about 500 kilometers and increasing steadily. Its camera’s were still functional at that altitude, but they were operating well outside of their optimum focal length. The images scrolling across the screen of Technical Sergeant Kaulana’s console were of significantly lower resolution than images shot from Forager’s preferred altitude, but the satellite analyst had no trouble identifying the two blurred oblongs as ships.

Kaulana’s job for this particular satellite pass was to count the number of submarines tied to the pier at the Russian naval base at Petropavlosk, Kamchatka. The ballistic missile submarines based in Petropavlosk represented a sizeable fraction of Russia’s nuclear strike capability. The movement of those subs was an ongoing concern. The United States and Russia might not be enemies anymore, but it wasn’t smart to lose track of another country’s nuclear arsenal if you could avoid it.

The two blurry shapes on Kaulana’s screen were obviously not submarines and the Russian Navy didn’t maintain surface warships in Kamchatka, so the two unidentified ships were probably nothing to worry about. If they’d been following the shipping lanes toward the West Coast of the U.S., he wouldn’t have given them a second look. But both of the unidentified ships were well north of the shipping lanes, and based on the orientation of their hulls, it looked like they were heading toward Petropavlosk. There wasn’t necessarily anything unusual about that. Avacha Bay, the harbor at Petropavlosk, got quite a bit of merchant shipping. But the destination of the ships was cause enough to give them a closer inspection, just to verify that they weren’t military vessels. If Kaulana let a couple of warships slip unnoticed into Petro on his watch, the Lieutenant would skin him alive. Better to check them out.

He used his trackball to pull a wireframe cursor around one of the shapes and keyed the SAWS console for image enlargement and digital enhancement. The video display flickered briefly as it reacted to the increased demand for processing power. A few seconds later, the enhanced image appeared on Kaulana’s screen.

He looked at the blocky white superstructure that ran most of the length of the ship. It wasn’t a tanker or a container ship, but it was definitely some kind of merchant vessel.

He shifted his cursor to the other shape on his screen and repeated the enlarge and enhance process. A few seconds later he was looking at another merchant vessel with the same sort of blocky white superstructure, an apparent duplicate of the first ship.

He increased the image contrast to make the details of the ship’s structure stand out more clearly, and then spent nearly a minute using his cursor to carefully tag points along the outline of the hull and the corners of all visible topside features. When he thought he had given his console’s computer enough clues about the shape of the vessel, he pressed a key to activate a silhouette recognition module in the system’s software.

He got a match in seconds. His unknown ships were 20,000-ton Ro-Ro vessels, built by HuangHai Shipyard in China.

Kaulana drummed his fingers on the gray steel shelf that housed the SAWS console’s keyboard. He could identify nearly every class of warship in the world by sight, but he wasn’t very well versed when it came to merchant ships. What in the heck was a Ro-Ro?

He punched a few keys to query the computer, and was rewarded with a brief explanation. Ro- Ro was the common abbreviation for Roll-on/Roll-off. Ro-Ro ships were vehicle carriers, designed to transport cars or other vehicles from one seaport to another. The Roll- on/Roll-off designation referred to built-in hydraulic ramps that could be lowered to allow a vessel’s cargo of vehicles to drive onto the ship at loading, and drive off when the ship reached its destination. According to the computer summary, the two Ro-Ros on Kaulana’s screen were capable of carrying about 2,000 cars each.

He whistled through his teeth. That was a lot of cars. He shrugged and released the images from his console’s processing queue. As long as the ships weren’t military, it didn’t really matter where they were going. The destinations of a couple of Chinese car carriers could hardly be considered a matter of national security.

* * *

Kaulana would repeat that line of reasoning at his court martial a little over a year later. The officers of the court would ultimately give him the benefit of the doubt and find that — based upon the information available to him at the time— Technical Sergeant George Kaulana had not been derelict in the execution of his duties when he’d declined to investigate the Ro-Ro vessels further. But the military court would also remind Kaulana that all of the death and destruction that came after might have been averted if he’d paid more attention to that harmless looking pair of Chinese merchant ships.

CHAPTER 12

KUZBASS (K-419)

NORTH PACIFIC OCEAN (SOUTH OF THE KURIL ISLAND CHAIN)

WEDNESDAY; 27 FEBRUARY

1402 hours (2:02 PM)

TIME ZONE +11 ‘LIMA’

Kapitan Igor Albinovich Kharitonov of the Russian Navy stood to the left of #1 periscope and glanced at the spot above the ballast control panel where the master dive clock should have been. He felt a familiar stab of annoyance as his eyes found the gaping rectangular hole where the oversized digital clock had been pried from its mounting.

They had stolen the master dive clock. His fists tightened unconsciously. The Kuzbass was a front-line nuclear attack submarine, and some svoloch had stolen the master dive clock. The very thought made Kharitonov want to punch someone repeatedly in the head. He was kapitan of the boat, and such behavior was not permitted in senior naval officers. But regulations wouldn’t keep him from beating the thieving bastard to death if they ever caught him.

The theft had occurred at Pavlovskoye submarine base, the submarine’s home port near Vladivostok. The Kuzbass had been moored to a guarded pier in the naval station’s security area, and still someone had managed to get into the control room and make off with the damned dive clock. How was such a thing even possible?

The base militia was investigating the theft, which meant precisely nothing. It had probably been one of their guards who had let the thief on board to begin with, no doubt in exchange for a couple of hundred rubles, or a few American dollars. Unless, of course, the thief was a member of Kharitonov’s own crew. He couldn’t rule that out. A man could barely feed himself on what the junior Sailors got paid. It was impossible to provide for a family on wages that low, and some of the junior men did have families.

Kharitonov sighed and shifted his gaze to the clunky analog clock that had been borrowed from the Officer’s Mess and strapped to a pipe as a temporary replacement for the missing dive clock.

Temporary, of course, was a relative term. The Supply Officer had requisitioned a