Arctic Gold

Grenville stared at the patterns on Mayhew’s waterfall, realizing that what they represented was a slight decrease in noise-even the background noise of grinding ice and distant ships-just astern of the Russian Victor.

In short, Grenville was seeing what amounted to a sound-absorbing hole in the water, and the only thing that might do that was the anechoic, sound-absorbing paint on the outer hull of…

“The Pittsburgh,” Mayhew said softly. “It’s gotta be.”

“Agreed,” Grenville said. He put out a hand to steady himself against an overhead beam as the Ohio’s deck tilted with her turn. The Ohio had been passing the Victor, from bow to stern and off her starboard side, but not on a perfectly parallel course. Grenville had been intent on executing a maneuver known as the Williamson turn, cutting behind the Russian Victor and coming around on an exact reciprocal of his initial course-which would put him squarely in the Russian’s wake.

But it appeared now that the Pittsburgh was already there. Grenville had broken off to port in order to avoid a head-on collision with the other American sub in the area.

He watched the patterns of sound shift on the waterfall and hoped he’d given the order to turn in time.

Mir Beneath the Arctic Ice Cap 82° 34' N, 177° 26' E 1209 hours, GMT-12

Dean held the Mir in its climb. For the past couple of minutes, he’d been listening to the swish and zip of clothing being changed behind him and trying not to picture Kathy stepping out of those baggy pants and wiggling into her survival suit. She was, he thought, quite attractive.

He found himself thinking about Lia instead. Safe in Ankara, Rubens had said yesterday. Was she back in Washington yet? Or still overseas?…

“This doesn’t look too bad,” Kathy’s voice said a moment later.

He risked a glance back over his shoulder. Golytsin was slumped in one of the seats, the leggings of his survival suit on, but the rest bunched up behind his waist and back. Kathy, in another blue dry suit, knelt in front of him, looking at an angry red slash just below his rib cage. She had the sub’s first-aid kit open and was applying a wad of sterile gauze.

“I told you,” Golytsin said. “Just a scratch.”

“Yeah, a scratch bleeding like a stuck pig,” Kathy said. “But this should stop the-”

“It hardly matters,” Benford said. “He’s going to die anyway. You all are.”

Dean looked past Kathy and the Russian. Benford was standing all the way at the aft end of the compartment, stooped slightly under the low overhead, and he had a Makarov pistol in his hand.

SSGN Ohio Arctic Ice Cap 82° 34' N, 177° 26' E 1209 hours, GMT-12

“We’re cavitating, Captain!” Mayhew said.

“Captain, Con!” a voice called over the intercom at the same instant. “We’re cavitating!”

The damage was done. “Helm! Maintain turn! Come to new heading two-six-zero! Ahead half!”

“Helm maintain turn to new heading two-six-zero, aye! Ahead half. Aye!”

Even at a creeping pace of four knots, the sudden turn had been enough to make noise in the water. The trouble was that the Ohio, over 560 feet long and with a submerged displacement of 18,750 tons, did not stop on a dime or turn inside her own length, and Grenville had to goose the old girl to give her rudder some bite to the water.

The cat was well and truly out of the bag now, dripping wet and making a hell of a racket… but that was better than scoring an own goal by ramming the Pittsburgh.

The question now was what the Russian was going to do about it.

SSN Dekabrist Arctic Ice Cap 82° 34' N, 177° 26' E 1209 hours, GMT-12

“Got him, Captain!”

Captain First Rank Valery Kirichenko looked up as the sonar officer called over the intercom.

“Talk to me, Lieutenant.”

“Sir! We have sounds of propeller cavitation to starboard, bearing two-five-zero, range approximately five hundred meters. Target aspect changing, and appears to be turning away from us, to port. I’m getting increased power plant noise as well. I believe he is accelerating.”

“Excellent! Stay with him!”

Kirichenko’s orders required that he find and neutralize any enemy submarines operating within a twenty- kilometer perimeter around the GK-1 if hostilities commenced. The Lebedev had passed him the word hours before that American commandos were boarding the ship and that an American Ohio-class submarine had surfaced alongside.

The Americans had made it so easy… but then the game had turned dark as the Dekabrist slipped closer to the enemy. The American vessel had suddenly submerged, making the challenge of finding her that much more difficult. He knew approximately where the enemy vessel was, but not precisely. He’d hoped the sounds of scraping ice and opening bow doors would have enticed the Americans into doing something rash-and noisy-but there’d been nothing.

Until now.

“Helm!” Kirichenko ordered. “Come right eight-five degrees, to new heading two-five-zero! Increase speed to twelve knots!”

“Yes, Captain!”

Five hundred meters. They’d been so close! But the American sub was turning away, which made her an easy target.

“Stand by to fire torpedoes one and two,” Kirichenko said. “On my mark!…”

Mir Beneath the Arctic Ice Cap 82° 34' N, 177° 26' E 1209 hours, GMT-12

“Everyone stay calm,” Benford continued. “But you will do as I say. Or you’ll all die sooner, rather than later.”

“Harry!” Kathy cried, pulling back a little from Golytsin. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not going to jail for murdering Richardson!” he said. “The damned Russians double-crossed me… tried to put the blame on me. Well, they’re not going to get away with it!”

“We’re not trying to blame you,” Dean said. He was kicking himself. That was his pistol, the one he’d carelessly dropped on a seat after coming on board the Mir. He was trying to remember… how many cartridges should be left?

He didn’t know the Makarov well, but he knew the Walther PP series and he’d read once that the Russian Makarov was based on the tried-and-true PP design. Walthers had eight-round magazines, so the chances were good that the Makarov had an eight-round mag as well.

But how many rounds had he fired in the short, savage firefight on board the GK-1 just now? There’d been his first shot… then three quick ones…

He couldn’t be sure-things had happened so fast-but he was pretty sure the pistol only had one shot left. Maybe two…

“Yes, you are!” Benford cried. There were tears on his face now, and his hands were shaking. Not good…

“Harry, it’ll all be okay!” Kathy told him. She started to rise, but he swung sharply, pointing the pistol at her.

“Don’t move, you little bitch! Damn it, no one believes me! It… it wasn’t supposed to be this way! I did everything they wanted me to do, and then they always wanted more! And now they want to double-cross me! Well, I’m giving the orders now!”

“Listen here, Benford,” Dean said.

“No, you listen!” The pistol swung back to point at him. “You… you just get me to the surface, understand? And get me out of this fucking box!”

The stress, Dean thought, must have been building on the man for days. From the sound of it, he was having a