not a poor man’s Intruder, and he hadn’t believed it possible to open up the enemy defenses far enough for the slow, ill-armed Vikings to actually challenge the Soviet Red Banner Fleet.
But it fell into place as Magruder had predicted, and by the time the twenty Harpoons were on their way it was almost an anticlimax. The Vikings turned for home, but behind them rippling flashes of light marked the end of the Soviet amphibious force … and perhaps of Russian hopes for completing the conquest of Norway.
Admiral Khenkin slumped in his seat, overwhelmed by the reports streaming in from all sides. Soyuz was on fire, with half her complement of aircraft destroyed or fled and most of the rest trapped useless on deck or in her hangars. The ship’s captain had requested permission to turn him about and withdraw to the north, farther from the Americans, in case they planned to rearm and launch a follow-up strike.
And the invasion ships were scattered or destroyed. There would be no hope of supporting the paratroops at Brekke now, no hope of the quick breakthrough that would carry the Soviets to victory. The only good news in any of it was the recovery of some of the pilots lost off Cape Bremanger. Fortunately the captain of the Kiev had deployed helicopters to carry out search and rescue as soon as he had seen the air battle develop.
Young Terekhov was one of the survivors. Now that the incompetent Glushko was dead, Khenkin thought, there was no better officer in the air wing to take his place than Terekhov, though he lacked the seniority for such a position. Terekhov’s ideas made up for his junior rank, though. If he had been in charge from the start, perhaps the Americans would never have found the opening they exploited.
Khenkin picked up an intercom handset. “Captain,” he began reluctantly. “Khenkin. Da. Order the fleet to steer north. All ships will rendezvous around North Cape. And inform me when you have repairs in hand.”
He set down the handset again and let out a sigh. It had been a costly defeat, and it might be costlier still for him once the Kremlin started seeking a scapegoat. But the war was not over yet, and if he remained in command he would not underestimate the Americans again.
They were cheering in CIC again, this time in response to word passed from the Hawkeye that enemy ships had been detected turning north. The Soviets were in retreat … at least for the moment.
Commander Matthew Magruder sagged back in his chair, physically and emotionally drained. Now that the crisis was over, he wanted nothing more than a chance to seek out his quarters and sleep for a week or two.
But that wouldn’t be possible yet, of course. The strike forces were only now beginning to return to Jefferson. They would need to be debriefed, and their planes would have to be checked over by the technical people in the Air Department. Combat Air Patrols would have to be organized, and perhaps a Tomcat carrying a TARPS pod would have to be sent to confirm the initial estimates of the damage to the Soviet fleet. Until the Russians had withdrawn further it would be necessary to maintain a high state of readiness, just in case they were still able to lash out against the American battle group.
And there would be the butcher’s bill to deal with too. Some good men had died out there, including Bannon and the unfortunate Lieutenant Powers. Commander Henderson of the Fighting Hornets had been lost while keeping a pair of Sukhois from breaking through to the Intruders during their final attack run, and there were sure to be others Magruder hadn’t heard about yet. They would have to rebuild the CVW-20 with reinforcements from the States before they could put up a fight again.
Yes, there was a lot to be done before he could rest. In some ways victory was harder to deal with than defeat. So much to do, so many details.
“CAG?”
For a moment Tombstone didn’t realize that the question was directed at him. He turned slowly to face Lieutenant Commander Owens. “CAG, the Hopkins is reporting a sonar contact about fifty kilometers west of us. They’ve got one helo down for repairs, and they’re asking if we can loan them some support so they can prosecute the contact. What do you want me to tell them?”
As he straightened up to check the plotting board and see what assets he had available to support the frigate, Magruder allowed himself a smile. Once they had their planes on deck and the Maintenance boys had worked their arcane magic, maybe he could put together an Alpha Strike to help the Norwegians clean up the pocket around Brekke. Even with its reduced numbers, CVW-20 could still make a difference.
Tombstone was in the middle of giving Owens his orders when a sudden realization hit him, and he broke off and started to laugh. The Deputy CAG looked at Magruder like he was crazy, and Tombstone didn’t know if Owens would understand the joke.
The fact was, he was actually looking forward to settling in to his new job. Hard as these past days had been, he’d carried it off. Maybe someday, he thought with another smile, he would be a real CAG, not just a substitute. And perhaps somewhere, in the Valhalla where Tomcat pilots gathered after the last shoot-down, Stinger Stramaglia would look down at Tombstone Magruder and be proud.
General Vladimir Nikolaivich Vorobyev watched as the jackals gathered, and under a stony visage he had to fight hard to keep from smiling. They were so predictable, these politicians. Doctorov, the KGB plotter, was licking his figurative lips as he contemplated the chance of eliminating Vorobyev from the inner circle, while Comrade President Ubarov vacillated between relief over the military’s failure and fear for what the future might bring. So very predictable … and so foolish to think that the wounded lion could not hold off such a band of jackals.
“Obviously we must rethink our entire strategy,” Foreign Minister Boltin was saying. “The West may yet be inclined to let the whole question of war slide if we move quickly to evacuate Norway and Finland. They did not interfere in Iraqi affairs once they had achieved their stated goal of liberating Kuwait, and the peace movement is still strong. But delay would give them time to rally against us.”
“We must not be stampeded in this,” Doctorov countered. “Our esteemed colleague here has allowed his vaunted military to set back our plans, but with a redirection of leadership resources we may yet be able to salvage something from this debacle.” He favored Vorobyev with an oily smile. “Don’t you agree, Comrade General?”
Vorobyev matched his smile, enjoying the uncertainty that spread across his face as the KGB man realized that the crisis in Scandinavia hadn’t shaken Vorobyev’s composure. “Yes, Comrade Doctorov, new leadership may well be needed, and at the very highest levels. To retrieve our position and carry through Rurik’s Hammer successfully, all elements of the national leadership must be working smoothly together, and not wasting time pursuing shortsighted political goals.”
He looked toward the double doors where Korotich was standing, the patient aide. Vorobyev gave a curt nod. Then Korotich threw open the doors.
The soldiers who filed into the room were elite Guardsmen, handpicked by Vorobyev for this assignment long before the developments in Scandinavia had taken their unexpected turn. His men had been well-briefed, and took up their positions ringing the conference room with smooth efficiency.
“On the other hand,” Vorobyev continued calmly. “On the other hand, it may be no replacements at all need be made, once all are aware of the need for absolute military authority. I am sure all of you will be glad to cooperate in this effort?”
No one answered for long moments. Then Ubarov nodded. “Of course, Comrade General, of course. You are correct. We must have unity of purpose.”
“If the general has plans to redeem our situation in Norway, I am sure we are all eager to hear them,” Boltin added. The other politicians chimed in with their own platitudes.
All but Doctorov. He sat still, his eyes on Vorobyev. At last he nodded his head slowly, a gesture which was as much one of respect as it was of submission.
“Now we can get down to business, Comrades,” Vorobyev said, his smile growing broader. “Let us see what we may do to turn this setback to our advantage.”
