masked the stealthy sounds of soft-gliding submarines.
Suddenly, he snapped upright, every muscle taut. “Control room!
Sonar!”
“Captain. Whatcha got, Ekhart?”
“Flushing noises, Captain, followed by ice breaking. I think Sierra
Nine has just come up under a polynya.”
Flushing sounds meant ballast tanks being blown. Sierra Nine was
surfacing. Polynya was Russian for a lead in the ice, either an open
pool or an area where the water was only thinly iced over. A
ballistic-missile sub could not fire its warloads through the ice. It
would have to surface first before launching.
Which appeared to be precisely what Sierra Nine was doing.
1415 hours
Kandalaksha Command Center
Kola Peninsula
“Message from Captain First Rank Dobrynin, Comrade Admiral,” the aide
said, handing Karelin the message flimsy. “Slavnyy Oktyabrskaya
Revolutsita is in position.”
Karelin glanced at the message, then handed it back. “At last,” he
said.
“It is time.”
He would have been happier if both of Admiral Marchenko’s Typhoons had
made it out to the open sea, but one should be enough. His principal
concern was American attack submarines in the area. Russian naval
planning for her nuclear missile boats called for placing them in
so-called “strategic bastions,” in secret regions of the Barents and
White seas and in the Arctic Ocean where a few PLARBs could be protected
by a large number of fast and powerful attack boats, the submarines the
West called “Alfas,”
“Akulas,” and “Victors.”
Karelin hadn’t dared work his Typhoons into regular Northern Fleet
planning, however. If it had become known before the fact that
Krasilnikov’s faction was planning a nuclear strike against the Rodina
herself, even if it was targeted against Leonov’s rebels, there could
have been mutiny throughout the fleet, perhaps even an attempt by
dissidents to stop the Revolutsita before Dobrynin could carry out his
orders. A Typhoon could be sunk by an Alfa as easily as by a Los
Angeles. But Operation Curtain of Fire appeared to have been successful
in blocking the Americans from the Kola Inlet approaches.
Dobrynin’s message made no mention of unknown sonar contacts. He
appeared to have reached his firing position midway between Spitsbergen
and Nova Zemlya undetected.
Taking a notebook from his pocket, Karelin opened to a blank page and
carefully printed the words “Crimson Winter Fire,” tore the sheet out,
and handed it to the aide. “Transmit this to the Kremlin,” he said.
“Priority One-One, Urgent.”
Krasilnikov would receive it within minutes. Then the critical phase of
Audacious Flame could truly begin.
1428 hours
Command room/attack center
Russian PLARB Slavnyy Oktyabrskaya Revolutsita
Captain First Rank Vsevolod Nikolaevich Dobrynin leaned over
Revolutsita’S primary communications console, listening to the voice of
Marshal Valentin Krasilnikov coming through the speakers.
“We fight for the future of our people, of our Motherland, of our
revolution,” Krasilnikov’s voice said, faint but discernible through the
blasting white noise of static. This far north, atmospherics frequently
played havoc with radio broadcasts.
“Sacrifices must be made if we are to secure our place in history as
saviors of the Socialist Republic, even sacrifices made in fire and
blood.”
Most holy God, Dobrynin thought … and he had to savagely repress the
urge to cross himself. He’s actually going to do it.
Dobrynin had not had a religious thought for years. He’d been a good
Communist ever since his years in the Leningrad Komsomolets. He’d even
been a good Communist during the hard, lean years of Yeltsin’s treason,
though he’d kept a low profile and been careful not to call undue
attention to his beliefs.
But Krasilnikov’s words had shaken him so badly that somehow the hated
religious instruction pressed upon him in secret by his mother had
surfaced like some broaching sea monster. He felt ashamed.
“Traitors have betrayed our Motherland, allowing her to be taken hostage
and raped by foreigners and capitalist opportunists. They have taken up
arms against the people and against the government which at long last
offers hope and stability in a time of economic chaos and ruin. We
offer you, who have taken up arms against our sovereign Motherland, one
hour in which to recant your capitalist heresies, one hour to seize the
traitors who have betrayed our country, Leonov and his cronies, and lay