Barracuda II, under the command of Captain Ali Akbar Mohtaj, was almost at the end of her long, around- the-world journey. The brand-new Russian-built submarine, which had left Araguba on January 31, had not been seen or heard since the American SOSUS operators in Pembrokeshire, South Wales, picked her up south of the Rockall Trench off the Irish coast on the evening of February 7.
Since then she had traveled underwater, fast down the Atlantic coast of Africa, slower across the Indian Ocean, the long way around Indonesia and the islands, and then north up the Pacific, off the east coast of the Philippines.
Now she had made passage through the Luzon Strait, which separates the northern headland of the islands from Taiwan. She was dawdling, waiting for the correct timing, early tomorrow morning, Saturday. Only then would she come to the surface at first light, right on longitude 111°, cut her speed, and move slowly across the sunlit, surface of the South China Sea. She would head straight to the Zhanjiang Headquarters of China's Southern Fleet, directly beneath the pass of the twice-daily Big Bird, America's silently penetrating photographic satellite, 22,000 miles above.
She had been at sea for six weeks, all of it dived. No one had seen the sun rise or set. Captain Mohtaj's orders were unbending, to stay out of sight, out of contact all the way. And he had carried them out to the letter, except for that one carelessly placed toolbox off the coast of Ireland.
Even then the American SOSUS operators had no time to make a positive identification. Like his coconspirator Captain Ben Badr, the Commanding Officer of Barracuda II had made no contact with the outside world. Everyone was in the dark. And neither of them knew the extent or failure of the Iranian mission to the coastlines of Alaska and the mainland United States.
At six o'clock on Saturday morning, Barracuda II came up through the shining blue waters of the South China Sea, and burst onto the surface, blowing ballast. Ali Akbar Mohtaj was fifty miles from Zhanjiang, north of the subtropical beaches of Hainan, hoping fervently to have his photograph taken.
Admiral Morris was awaiting the arrival of the Big Man, and he had already vacated his chair and desk in anticipation of the event. Dead on time the door swished open in a near cyclone of air current as Arnold Morgan made his entrance and strode across the office floor. The flag of the United States rippled in his slipstream.
'GEORGE, THESE BASTARDS ARE UP TO SOMETHING!'
'Sir?' said Admiral Morris.
'DON'T SIR ME, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. I'VE GOT ENOUGH FUCKING TROUBLE WITHOUT MY OLDEST FRIEND GOING FUCKING OBSEQUIOUS ON ME!'
In Admiral Morris's view, this was going to be a somewhat unpredictable meeting. 'You got it, Arnie. I'm ready… What's new?'
'New? New? Nothing's new. The precise same crew of homicidal maniacs is still waiting off the shores of California trying to blow the fucking country up. Nothing's new. It's just the same old routine bullshit. Another death blow to Uncle Sam coming up, another chance the whole fucking place will be in the pitch dark before we're much older.'
'You want some coffee?'
'Damn right I want some coffee. I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to continue while you sit there not giving a shit, one way or another, whether I die of thirst.'
Enough. Both men chuckled. George Morris ordered the coffee, and Arnold moved into serious business. 'George, I heard back from the CIA's man in Murmansk. That second Barracuda, Hull K-240, the one the Russians never put to sea, has gone. So far as we can tell it has not left the yards at Araguba for years, but one of our top Naval observers in that part of the world says it's no longer there. But he was wary of the answers his contact was giving. Said he had a sense there was a lot more to it. But nothing he was going to be told.'
'Do we have evidence they did complete the ship? Our last report said it was in no state to become operational, may even have been used to provide spares for their other Barracuda.'
'In my experience, George, the only way submarines ever go anywhere is under their own steam. If the fucker was still in pieces, it would still be in Araguba, right? Well, our man Nikolai says it's gone. And since even the Russians don't transport 8,000-ton nuclear submarines on trucks, my guess is the bastard's floating.
'And if it's floating, and not in the harbor, it's steaming somewhere. And since we can't locate it, and neither, it seems, can anyone else, it's being very secretive. And I want to know where it is, mainly because I'm afraid it might be bombarding U.S. oil refineries.'
'What was the latest from Rankov?'
'He promised he'd find out for me if it was still in Araguba. But he didn't get back.'
'You think that proves it's out there?'
'Well, it proves what I already know, that Rankov is a lying, devious, Russian prick. But I think it's almost decisive. Barracuda II, wherever it may be, is up to something.'
Just then, two things happened. The waiter arrived with coffee, and Admiral Morris answered his internal line to hear Lieutenant Commander Ramshawe's voice asking to see him right away.
He replaced the receiver and said, 'Ramshawe's on his way, says he has two things — one of them hot.'
When Lieutenant Commander Ramshawe arrived, he said, 'Hello, sir… oh, g'day, Admiral… didn't know you were here, but I'm glad you are. I've got a very interesting satellite picture right here.'
He laid out on the desk of Admiral Morris a blowup print of a shot taken that morning outside the Chinese Naval Base in Zhanjiang. There, large as life, on the surface, was the Barracuda, thirty-five days and 3,500 miles out of Petropavlovsk. In the South China Sea, exactly where the Russians had said it was going.
'Have the Navy guys confirmed this is definitely a Barracuda Class Sierra? A genuine Type 945V asked Admiral Morgan.
'Yes, sir. No doubts. One hundred percent. That's the Barracuda.'
'Well, we think it fired a salvo of missiles at Grays Harbor in the early morning of Friday, March seventh,' said Arnold. 'That's eight days ago, and the Pacific Ocean is damn nearly seven thousand miles across from our northwest coast to south China. So he must have made damn nearly forty knots all the way, which he can't. And he must have set off about seventy-three SOSUS alarms at that speed, which he didn't.
'That ship outside Zhanjiang, gentlemen, did not do the deed. That much is obvious. Which leaves our calculations in disarray.'
'Bloody oath, it does, Admiral,' said Jimmy. 'Where do we go from here?'
'Well, Lieutenant, as you know, the Russians did build a second Barracuda, which spent all of its life in dry dock in Araguba. And I came here this morning to inform Admiral Morris that it had gone… '
'Gone, sir!'
'Gone. Vamoosed. Not there.'
'Christ. That puts a different light on it, wouldn't you say? I mean, that ship outside Zhenjiang might be the second one, right? And the first one, the Barracuda that hooked the sushi net, might still be where we think it is. Off California.'
'That, Jimmy, is what is causing me deep concern. And the more I think of it, the less I like it. You know why?'
'Sir?'
'Because the Chinese obviously do not wish us to know they have bought TWO Barracudas at $300 million each, or whatever. And in those circumstances they should have crept into Zhanjiang much more carefully, surfacing at the very last moment, and then crept into the jetties during the dark hours of the night, when they know we have no satellite pass.'
Jimmy Ramshawe was silent. He just sat there staring into space. He actually sat there for almost a minute without replying.
'Jimmy?' said Admiral Morris, concerned his Aussie assistant had gone into shock, or some kind of a trance.
