Three of the four men who attended the meeting in the rotunda of the Senate were now seated around a much smaller table in company with the President: Prime Minister Kravchenko, Foreign Minister Nalyotov, and the Energy Minister, Oleg Kuts.
'Very well,' called the President, 'send for Admiral Rankov, will you?'
A Navy guard turned smartly on the marble floor of the grandiose room and marched toward the huge double doors. Moments later, the mighty figure of Admiral Vitaly Rankov strode into the room. The veteran Naval Commander, in his new status as Deputy Minister of Defense, wore no uniform.
He was dressed in a dark gray suit with a white shirt and military tie, and he still looked as if he could pull the bow-side five-oar in a Russian Olympic eight, which he once did.
Despite a passion for caviar served on delicious blinis, and Siberian beef topped with cheese, plus all manner of desserts, Vitaly Rankov somehow remained fit, and for a very big man, trim. This had much to do with a lifelong iron regimen on his ergometer, the killer rowing machine used by international oarsmen the world over.
With his eyes glued to the flickering computer as he hauled himself into Olympic selection, Vitaly could stop that digital clock at 6 minutes and 18 seconds for 2,000 meters. That's world-class, and that was his regular time in the run-up to the 1972 Olympics in Munich.
Today, at sixty, the towering Vitaly Rankov fought a daily battle to 'break seven' — the young oarsman's mantra — and even this morning, fighting through the final 'yards' on his stationary machine in his basement, he hit the 2,000-meter line in 6:58. Nearly killed him. But here he was.
'
'Sir,' replied Vitaly sharply, pushing his great shock of gray curly hair off his forehead. He took the chair left vacant on the President's right and nodded to the other three Ministers, all of whom he knew relatively well.
'As I mentioned to you on the telephone,' said the President, 'this is a matter of the utmost secrecy. Nonetheless, our Intelligence Service leads us to believe the forces of Argentina are preparing to launch another attack on the Falkland Islands, some twenty-eight years, I believe, after their last disastrous attempt.'
This was of course the biggest single lie the President had told this week, but it was only Monday, and it was essentially kids' stuff compared with his record last week.
As it happened, the young Lieutenant Commander Rankov had received his first command, of a missile frigate, back in 1982. And like all of his colleagues he had watched with rapt fascination as the Royal Navy fought that epic sea battle off the Falkland Islands, during which they lost seven warships, including two Type-42 destroyers. Two remain on the bottom of the ocean; the other, HMS
Admiral Rankov, as it happened, knew a great deal about that war in the South Atlantic. And he looked quizzically at the President. Then he said sternly, 'I'm not sure the result would be the same today, sir. The British have been very, very shortsighted about their war-fighting capability. The Argentinians may be successful this time.'
The President nodded, and continued, 'At present we are only discussing a sudden, preemptive strike, which would certainly overrun the very flimsy British defenses of the islands. But I would like your opinions upon the likely outcome if the British again sailed south with the intention of blasting the Argentinians off their territory.'
'Sir, that is a very complicated question. Mainly because we do not know the relative strength of the Argentinian fleet, nor its land forces. However, we do know they are quite formidable in the air.'
'Vitaly, if I may take a worst-case scenario,' said the President. 'The Argentinians occupy the islands, and the airfields. Their Marines are in tight control. There is no internal resistance. The British send down an aircraft carrier packed with fighter-bombers and whatever guided-missile frigates and destroyers they have left, okay? Who wins?'
'Sir, all battles depend to a large degree on the will and brilliance of the overall commanders. In 1982 that Royal Navy Admiral outsmarted them, held his nerve, made no real mistakes, and in the end clobbered them. He was the first Admiral whose fleet ever defeated an Air Force. Knocked out more than seventy Argentina fighter- bombers.'
'Yes. I read that during the weekend,' mused the President. 'But, Vitaly, could you put your finger on perhaps one single aspect of the war at sea that cost the Argentinians victory? One critical path along which they failed?'
Admiral Rankov pondered the question. He was silent for a few moments, and then said, 'Sir, the critical path for the Argentinians was always simple: take out either of the Royal Navy carriers, before they have established an airfield ashore, and the operation is over. You always need two decks in case one goes out of action even for a couple of hours — otherwise you lose all the aircraft you have in the air.'
'Why so important?'
'Because that would have robbed the British land forces of adequate air cover. That would have meant the Army would have refused to go ashore. Because without air cover they would have had Dunkirk all over again, being pounded by Argentine bombs instead of those of Hitler.'
'Hmmmm,' said the President. 'And why did the Argentinians not go for the carrier? And end it?'
'Mainly because they couldn't get to it. The South Atlantic is a very, very big place, and that Royal Navy Admiral was a very, very cunning Commander. He made damn sure they would never reach it. He never brought the carrier within range, except at night, when he knew the Argentinian Air Force did not fly.'
'Well, if the same war happened again, how would they get to the carrier this time?'
'With great difficulty, sir. Unless they had a very quiet, very skillfully handled submarine that could locate and track it. But that's extremely hard to do, and I don't think the Argentines have the skill.'
'Does anyone?'
'Possibly. But the Royal Navy Commanders are traditionally very good at this type of thing. Getting in close to a ship of that size would be damn near impossible. All carriers are permanently protected by an electronic ring of underwater surveillance. I suppose the Americans might get in and perhaps fire a torpedo, but even that's doubtful.'
'How about our Navy? Could we do it?'
'The issue is, sir, could we do it without getting caught and sunk? I would not put my life savings on it. 'Specially against the Royal Navy…but you know, sir, I think the problem this time might not be quite so grave. Because I think modern advancements in rockets, missiles, and even bombs is so great, any commander would prefer to sink a carrier from the air.
'The damn things carry about a billion gallons of fuel. If you get in close enough, with a modern supersonic sea-skimming missile, that's the trick.'
'And where would that leave the Argentinians — same as before?'
'Not if they could get a submarine in, maybe seven miles from the carrier, and take an accurate GPS reading on its precise position on the ocean. Then they could vector their fighter-bombers straight at it.'
'And do they have
'I don't think so, sir. The Royal Navy would almost certainly locate and sink them.'
'If Argentina were to recruit an ally, to help them with this critical aspect of submarine warfare, who do they need?'
'The USA, sir.'
'How about China?' asked the President, shrewdly trying to keep his Admiral off his own critical path.
'China! Christ, no. The Brits would pick them up before they reached Cape Town.'
'How about France?'
'Possibly, but they lack experience. The French have never fought a war with submarines.'
'Neither have we.'
'No, sir. But I'd still make us the second choice if I were the C-in-C of the Argentinian Navy. We still have top flight commanders, and we probably have the ship that could do the job…'
'Oh, which one…?'
'Well, I'd go for one of our Akula-class nuclear boats myself. Hunter-killers, about ninety-five hundred tons, packed with missiles and torpedoes, excellent radar and sonar. The most modern ones are ten to fifteen years old,
