“Dr. Tait,” Petchkin said finally, “I swear to you that I had no idea of this oxygen business. Perhaps I am a fool.”
“Nurse,” Tait turned, “we will not leave this patient unattended by our personnel at any time — never. Have a corpsman come to pick up the blood samples and anything else. If you have to go to the head, get relief first.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“No more screwing around, Mr. Petchkin. Break the rules again, sir, and you’re off the floor again. Do you understand?”
“It will be as you say, Doctor, and allow me, please, to apologize.”
“You stay put,” Tail said to the marine. He walked away shaking his head angrily, mad at the Russians, embarrassed with himself, wishing he were back at Bethesda where he belonged, and wishing he knew how to swear coherently. He took the service elevator down to the first floor and spent five minutes looking for the intelligence officer who had flown down with him. Ultimately he found him in a game room playing Pac Man. They conferred in the hospital administrator’s vacant office.
“You really thought he was trying to kill the guy?” the commander asked incredulously.
“What was I supposed to think?” Tait demanded. “What do you think?”
“I think he just screwed up. They want that kid alive — no, first they want him talking — more than you do.”
“How do you know that?”
“Petchkin calls their embassy every hour. We have the phones tapped, of course. How do you think?”
“What if it’s a trick?”
“If he’s that good an actor he belongs in the movies. You keep that kid alive, Doctor, and leave the rest to us. Good idea to have the marine close, though. That’ll rattle ‘em a bit. Never pass up a chance to rattle ‘em. So, when will he be conscious?”
“No telling. He’s still feverish, and very weak. Why do they want him to talk?” Tait asked.
“To find out what sub he was on. Petchkin’s KGB contact blurted that out on the phone — sloppy! Very sloppy! They must be real excited about this.”
“Do we know what sub it was?”
“Sure,” the intelligence officer said mischievously.
“Then what’s going on, for Lord’s sake!”
“Can’t say, Doc.” The commander smiled as if he knew, though he was as much in the dark as anyone.
Norfolk Naval Shipyard
The USS Scamp sat at the dock while a large overhead crane settled the Avalon in its support rack. The captain watched impatiently from atop the sail. He and his boat had been called in from hunting a pair of Victors, and he did not like it one bit. The attack boat skipper had only ran a DSRV exercise a few weeks before, and right now he had better things to do than play mother whale to this damned useless toy. Besides, having the minisub perched on his after escape trunk would knock ten knots off his top speed. And there’d be four more men to bunk and feed. The Scamp was not all that large.
At least they’d get good food out of this. The Scamp had been out five weeks when the recall order arrived. Their supply of fresh vegetables was exhausted, and they availed themselves of the opportunity to have fresh food tracked down to the dock. A man tires quickly of three-bean salad. Tonight they’d have real lettuce, tomatoes, fresh corn instead of canned. But that didn’t make up for the fact that there were Russians out there to worry about.
“All secure?” the captain called down to the curved after deck.
“Yes, Captain. We’re ready when you are,” Lieutenant Ames answered.
“Engine room,” the captain called down on intercom. “I want you ready to answer bells in ten minutes.”
“Ready now, Skipper.”
A harbor tug was standing by to help maneuver them from the dock. Ames had their orders, something else that the captain didn’t like. Surely they would not be doing any more hunting, not with that damned Avalon strapped on.
The Red October
“Look here, Svyadov,” Melekhin pointed, “I will show you how a saboteur thinks.”
The lieutenant came over and looked. The chief engineer was pointing at an inspection valve on the heat exchanger. Before he got an explanation, Melekhin went to the bulkhead phone.
“Comrade Captain, this is Melekhin. I have found it. I require the reactor to be stopped for an hour. We can operate the caterpillar on batteries, no?”
“Of course, Comrade Chief Engineer,” Ramius said, “proceed.”
Melekhin turned to the assistant engineering officer. “You will shut the reactor down and connect the batteries to the caterpillar motors.”
“At once, Comrade.” The officer began to work the controls.
The time taken to find the leak had been a burden on everyone. Once they had discovered that the Geiger counters were sabotaged and Melekhin and Borodin had repaired them, they had begun a complete check of the reactor spaces, a devilishly tricky task. There had never been a question of a major steam leak, else Svyadov would have gone looking for it with a broomstick — even a tiny leak could easily shave off an arm. They reasoned that it had to be a small leak in the low-pressure part of the system. Didn’t it? It was the not knowing that had troubled everyone.
The check made by the chief engineer and executive officer had lasted no less than eight hours, during which the reactor had again been shut down. This cut all electricity off throughout the ship except for emergency lights and the caterpillar motors. Even the air systems had been curtailed. That had set the crew muttering to themselves.
The problem was, Melekhin could still not find the leak, and when the badges had been developed a day earlier, there was nothing on them! How was this possible?
“Come, Svyadov, tell me what you see.” Melekhin came back over and pointed.
“The water test valve.” Opened only in port, when the reactor was cold, it was used to flush the cooling system and to check for unusual water contamination. The thing was grossly unremarkable, a heavy-duty valve with a large wheel. The spout underneath it, below the pressurized part of the pipe, was threaded rather than welded.
“A large wrench, if you please, Lieutenant.” Melekhin was drawing the lesson out, Svyadov thought. He was the slowest of teachers when he was trying to communicate something important. Svyadov returned with a meter-long pipe wrench. The chief engineer waited until the plant was closed down, then double-checked a gauge to make sure the pipes were de-pressurized. He was a careful man. The wrench was set on the fitting, and he turned it. It came off easily.
“You see, Comrade Lieutenant, the threads on the pipe actually go up onto the valve casing. Why is this permitted?”
“The threads are on the outside of the pipe, Comrade. The valve itself bears the pressure. The fitting which is screwed on is merely a directional spigot. The nature of the union does not compromise the pressure loop.”
“Correct. A screw fitting is not strong enough for the plant’s total pressure.” Melekhin worked the fitting all the way off with his hands. It was perfectly machined, the threads still bright from the original engine work. “And there is the sabotage.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Someone thought this one over very carefully, Comrade Lieutenant.” Melekhin’s voice was half admiration, half rage. “At normal operating pressure, cruising speed, that is, the system is pressurized to eight kilograms per square centimeter, correct?”
“Yes, Comrade, and at full power the pressure is ninety percent higher.” Svyadov knew all this by heart.
“But we rarely go to full power. What we have here is a dead-end section of the steam loop. Now, here a small hole has been drilled, not even a millimeter. Look.” Melekhin bent over to examine it himself. Svyadov was happy to keep his distance. “Not even a millimeter. The saboteur took the fitting off, drilled the hole, and put it back. The tiny hole permits a minuscule amount of steam to escape, but only very slowly. The steam cannot go up, because the fitting sits against this flange. Look at this machine work! It is perfect, you see, perfect! The steam, therefore, cannot escape upward. It can only force its way down the threads around and around, ultimately escaping inside the spout. Just enough. Just enough to contaminate this compartment by a tiny amount.” Melekhin looked up. “Someone was a very clever man. Clever enough to know exactly how this system works. When we reduced power to check for the leak before, there was not enough pressure remaining in the loop to force the steam down the threads, and we could not find the leak. There is only enough pressure at normal power levels — but if you suspect a leak, you power-down the system. And if we had gone to maximum power, who can say what might have happened?” Melekhin shook his head in admiration. “Someone was very, very clever.