never been
“Matter of fact, Vitaly, I do not believe you guys had anything to do with it. Mainly because I never thought you had anyone that clever! I want you to help me, and I want you to tell me the whole truth about that Kilo, right now.
“After that, I probably want you to do a few other things. You say you are our friends, as we are yours. Right now I need you to prove it. My country will not forget your response, either way.”
“Very well, Arnold. I will tell you what I know and you may judge for yourself. Our search for the Kilo revealed nothing. We worked below the surface for three weeks, used every electronic device we have to sweep the bottom of the sea. Nothing. We now believe it is not there, and never was. The drowned crewman on the Greek island was a member of the ship’s company of Kilo 630.
“His name was very clearly on the next-of-kin list. But there we have a problem. When the Kilo left, it did not relay its next-of-kin signal. Therefore the whole list is now suspect. As you know, there are always three or four changes, men going out as replacements for two or three other men who are not going. So I could not swear the man was in the crew, though the odds are he was.
“We believe the submarine escaped, and absconded with a crew of about fifty. We have heard
“Yes, I can. Not many navies as big as yours lose submarines. That kind of thing only happens in Third World countries, eh?”
“Yes, Arnold, like Iran.”
The American ignored that one. And then he said, “You don’t think another country could have bought the submarine, do you? From some Naval agency in the Ukraine?”
“Hell no. We might be short of cash. But not that short. We’ll fulfill genuine export orders for submarines for almost anyone, the Arabs, China, the Warsaw Pact nations. But we would not just flog off a diesel-electric submarine with a fully operational crew to some guy dressed in a sheet and carrying a sackful of cash. Give us some credit. We have to live in the international community, like everyone else.”
“Well, Vitaly, if you guys are innocent, and Kilo 630 just went missing, there are but two alternatives. Somebody rented it. Or somebody hijacked it.”
“I know you think we are very inefficient compared to the mighty USA, Arnold. But our investigations here in Sevastopol indicate nothing unusual occurred in the three days preceding her departure. Preparations were normal. The captain filed the correct documents for an exercise in the Black Sea, following a refit. Members of the crew made the usual phone calls to wives, three substitute crew members did not leave their homes until the morning of departure. Our security around the submarine jetties is always very high, and no one saw anything to suggest the captain was coerced, or that he left with a gang of armed terrorists on board.
“The first thing to arouse suspicion was the absence of the next-of-kin signal. And of course no one reported that for three days. We just assumed the submarine comms had forgotten. It was another twelve hours before we became concerned there had been no communication whatsoever from Kilo 630. Then we found the bits of wreckage, which we now believe were planted.”
“So where does that leave us, old buddy? I agree with you, theft is out of the question. Your submarine was not hijacked. There would be some clues if Kilo 630 had left Sevastopol at gun point. And they would surely have got a SATCOM signal away. No, I think your submarine may have been rented.”
“From whom? The President?”
“No, Vitaly. From the captain.”
“Admiral, he only drives it. He doesn’t own it.”
“But what might he say if someone approached him, and asked him to undertake a mission? To bring his submarine, and fool his crew into taking part? In return for which he would be given ten million American dollars?”
“But he would know he could never come home, not if he stole a Russian submarine.”
“Home? To what? A run-down apartment in a dockyard town on the Black Sea where everyone’s broke? Bullshit, Vitaly, I could buy a Russian submarine captain. So could anyone with a vast amount of money. And that money would also buy you the crew and the boat.”
“But, Arnold, these men have wives and children. We have checked them all. No one knows anything. They just believe their men are dead. We have not made public our suspicions that this may not be so.”
“Let me ask you one thing, what kind of torpedoes was this Kilo equipped for?”
“Her basic inventory was for the SAET-60’s — you know, 533 millimeters, 7.8 meters long. They run at around forty knots, with a fifteen-kilometer range. Regular stuff, antisurface vessel. She was fairly new, a Granay Class, Type 877M. She was fully loaded with about twenty of them, with a couple of tubes specially for wire- guidance.”
“How big’s the regular warhead?”
“Four hundred kilograms.”
“Can they take a nuclear variant?”
“Yes.”
“Did this one have any on board with that variant?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“How do you know?”
“Because everyone involved in our internal inquiry knows every fucking thing there is to know about Kilo 630.”
“May I now assume you will do what you can to help us?”
“Arnold, you can count on us to help find her, and to share information. Any information. I assume you also will share with us if you find her before we do?”
“We will find her first.”
“How do you know that?”
“There’s an old saying in the States — because we want it more.”
“You’re a terrible man, Admiral Morgan.”
“I’ll tell you what I do want. I want you to keep a clear eye on the families of the crew of Kilo 630. See if anything might be going on…you know, anyone spending a lot of money, or anything.”
“You mean you think someone paid every member of the crew to go and blow up the carrier?”
“No. I don’t think you would need to. You just have to present the captain with a cash fortune. Let him con the crew into believing they are on some secret mission on behalf of the Russian Navy. What would the crew do? Take a huge payoff, possibly a half million dollars apiece, and run, if they have any sense. Make a new life somewhere. Just watch the widows and orphans for me, willya?”
“Sure I will. What else?”
“Not much. Except I would like to send one of my men over to Sevastopol when you are in town, maybe a coupla weeks. You could show him around, give him the updates, and he will tell you personally what’s happening in our own investigation.”
“Okay. Let’s try to find Kilo 630, shall we?”
Admiral Morgan tossed his old coffee cups and paper sandwich plate into the wastepaper basket, pulled on his coat, and checked the time, 0256. He was about to switch off the lights and his computer, when the phone unexpectedly rang.
“Morgan, speak.”
The voice on the end of the line was foreign and struggled for English words. “Admiral Morgan. I am Israeli Intelligence. Ask to speak you by General Gavron. I am in Istanbul, and I find your man. He leave here on Black Sea ship, November 26. Bought ticket for cash, Turkish lira to Odessa. His name, Adnam, on passenger list. Ship docked November 27, 1300. He no jump overboard, he get there too. General Gavron hand over to colleague in Odessa now. Don’t think your man come back here. Bye, Admiral, I go now.”
