Moreover, the ricochet might have killed someone else in the control room
on its way to penetrating the hull.
“Get the system ready, then,” Rogov ordered. “We won’t use it unless
they force us to.”
“Colonel, if we use the system, we’ve just given away our biggest
tactical advantage–our invisibility. Seconds after we fire, every
aircraft in the area will be dumping torpedoes into the water. And they’ll
have our exact location based on the trajectory of the missile.”
Rogov turned to him and almost smiled. He raised one finger and
waggled it at the executive officer in one of his sudden changes of mood
that so unnerved the crew. “You’re making two assumptions, both of which
are wrong. First, that there will be more than one aircraft in the area.
As of now, we have indications of only one. And second, if there is only
one aircraft, you’re assuming that the shot will miss.”
“But with a new system, op-tested only once and still in prototype
stage-” the executive officer began.
Rogov cut him off with a sharp laugh. “Then do not miss.”
Tuesday, 27 December
0600 Local
Aflu
The Spetsnaz commander pushed the door open. Finally, the vicious
storm had started to break. Wind speed had dropped to less than thirty
knots, and visibility had increased to at least two kilometers. Not ideal
weather, but certainly not the paralyzing arctic blast that it had been two
hours ago.
Even foul weather was better than having Rogov with them. He sighed,
wondering if there was any way to convince the senior Cossack to stay on
board the submarine. There was nothing in this part of the mission that he
could help with, anyway.
Behind him, his men crowded toward the door, eager to escape the
confines of the dripping cave. The commander made a small hand motion. No
words were necessary when dealing with these highly trained special warfare
commandos. He heard a few small noises behind him, and knew without
turning to look that they were readying their gear. Finally, sensing that
they were ready, he shoved the door open the rest of the way. Though the
ice cave had never been warm, the frigid air that poured in was markedly
colder than the interior temperature. If nothing else, he thought, ice was
a good insulator. Five hours’ worth of body heat had accumulated in the
small cavern, although their breath still frosted on their full whiskers
and the air still gnawed at exposed flesh.
He stepped out into the open and surveyed the land around him. It was
just as he’d been briefed. A low, flat plain rose gently toward the cliff
that contained their cave, ice covering tundra. Except for the wind still
screaming across the craggy ridge behind him, it was silent. There were no
signs of habitation or wildlife, and certainly not of vegetation. Nothing
could have survived for long on this island–nothing.
He turned back and smiled at his companions. They moved out quietly,
almost noiselessly, the fresh, windblown snow barely crunching under their
arctic-wear boots. They fanned out in teams of two, their commander
staying carefully out of the way by the ice cavern, watching. He was the
safety observer for the operation, a role he took extremely seriously. He
had to, given the nature of the explosives his men were handling.
Each man had shouldered a pack onto his back, something slightly
larger than a knapsack. Each bag contained four specifically designed
explosive devices, for which the outlaw gang of Cossacks had paid a small
fortune to the Japanese. Microsecond timers, all slaved to a common
signal, were nestled in a special titanium compartment at the end of each
long, cylindrical wand. Packed in the rest of the two-foot shaft was a
special formula of highly toxic plastic explosive formulated for use in
sub-zero environments. According to the Japanese, each stick would blast a
hole five feet straight down into the frozen ice and tundra. The charge
was shaped to blow a stream of ice and water out of the hole. The melted
sides of each cylinder would immediately refreeze, creating a smooth, slick
interior surface to each shaft. The bottom of each hole might be a bit