“It’s cute, all right,” Ryan said. “I wonder what genius thought it up. I know I’m going to be stuck with this. I’ll ask Washington for permission to take a few officers along with me.”
Ten minutes later they were back in communications. White had the compartment cleared. Then Jack spoke over the encrypted voice channel. Both hoped the scrambling device worked.
“I hear you fine, Mr. President. You know what happened to the helicopter.”
“Yes, Jack, most unfortunate. I need you to pinch-hit for us.”
“Yes, sir, I anticipated that.”
“I can’t order you, but you know what the stakes are. Will you do it?”
Ryan closed his eyes. “Affirmative.”
“I appreciate it, Jack.”
Sure you do. “Sir, I need your authorization to take some help with me, a few British officers.”
“One,” the president said.
“Sir, I need more than that.”
“One.”
“Understood, sir. We’ll be moving in an hour.”
“You know what’s supposed to happen?”
“Yes, sir. The survivor had the ops orders with him. I’ve already read them over.”
“Good luck, Jack.”
“Thank you, sir. Out.” Ryan flipped off the satellite channel and turned to Admiral White. “Volunteer once, just one time, and see what happens.”
“Frightened?” White did not appear amused.
“Damned right I am. Can I borrow an officer? A guy who speaks Russian if possible. You know what this may involve.”
“We’ll see. Come on.”
Five minutes later they were back in White’s cabin awaiting the arrival of four officers. All turned out to be lieutenants, all under thirty.
“Gentlemen,” the admiral began, “this is Commander Ryan. He needs an officer to accompany him on a voluntary basis for a mission of some importance. Its nature is secret and most unusual, and there may be some danger involved. You four have been asked here because of your knowledge of Russian. That is all I can say.”
“Going to talk to a Sov submarine?” the oldest of them chirped up. “I’m your man. I have a degree in the language, and my first posting was aboard HMS Dreadnought.”
Ryan weighed the ethics of accepting the man before telling him what was involved. He nodded, and White dismissed the others.
“I’m Jack Ryan.” He extended his hand.
“Owen Williams. So, what are we up to?”
“The submarine is named Red October — “
“Krazny Oktyabr.” Williams smiled.
“And she’s attempting to defect to the United States.”
“Indeed? So that’s what we’ve been mucking about for. Jolly decent of her CO. Just how certain are we of this?”
Ryan took several minutes to detail the intelligence information. “We blinkered instructions to him, and he seems to have played along. But we won’t know for sure until we get aboard. Defectors have been known to change their minds, it happens a lot more often than you might imagine. Still want to come along?”
“Miss a chance like this? Exactly how do we get aboard, Commander?”
“The name’s Jack. I’m CIA, not navy.” He went on to explain the plan.
“Excellent. Do I have time to pack some things?”
“Be back here in ten minutes,” White said.
“Aye aye, sir.” Williams drew to attention and left.
White was on the phone. “Send Lieutenant Sinclair to see me.” The admiral explained that he was the commander of the Invincible’s marine detachment. “Perhaps you might need another friend along.”
The other friend was an FN nine-millimeter automatic pistol with a spare clip and a shoulder holster that disappeared nicely under his jacket. The mission orders were shredded and burned before they left.
Admiral White accompanied Ryan and Williams to the flight deck. They stood at the hatch, looking at the Sea King as its engines screeched into life.
“Good luck, Owen.” White shook hands with the youngster, who saluted and moved off.
“My regards to your wife, Admiral.” Ryan took his hand.
“Five and a half days to England. You’ll probably see her before I do. Be careful, Jack.”
Ryan smiled crookedly. “It’s my intelligence estimate, isn’t it? If I’m right, it’ll just be a pleasure cruise — assuming the helicopter doesn’t crash on me.”
“The uniform looks good on you, Jack.”
Ryan hadn’t expected that. He drew himself to attention and saluted as he’d been taught at Quantico. ‘Thank you, Admiral. Be seeing you.”
White watched him enter the chopper. The crew chief slid the door shut, and a moment later the Sea King’s engines increased power. The helicopter lifted unevenly for a few feet before its nose dipped to port and began a climbing turn to the south. Without flying lights the dark shape was lost to sight in less than a minute.
33N 75W
The Scamp rendezvoused with the Ethan Alien a few minutes after midnight. The attack sub took up station a thousand yards astern of the old missile boat, and bom cruised in an easy circle as their sonar operators listened to the approach of a diesel-powered vessel, the USS Pigeon. Three of the pieces were now in place. Three more were to come.
The Red October
“There is no choice,” Melekhin said. “I must continue to work on the diesel.”
“Let us help you,” Svyadov said.
“And what do you know of diesel fuel pumps?” Melekhin asked in a tired but kind voice. “No, Comrade. Surzpoi, Bugayev, and I can handle it alone. There is no reason to expose you also. I will report back in an hour.”
“Thank you, Comrade.” Ramius clicked the speaker off. “This cruise has been a troublesome one. Sabotage. Never in my career has something like this happened! If we cannot fix the diesel… We have only a few hours more of battery power, and the reactor requires a total overhaul and safety inspection. I swear to you, Comrades, if we find the bastard who did this to us…”
“Shouldn’t we call for help?” Ivanov asked.
“This close to the American coast, and perhaps an imperialist submarine still on our tail? What sort of ‘help’ might we get, eh? Comrades, perhaps our problem is no accident, have you considered that? Perhaps we have become pawns in a murderous game.” He shook his head. “No, we cannot risk this. The Americans must not get their hands on this submarine!”
CIA Headquarters
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Senator. I apologize for getting you up so early.” Judge Moore met Donaldson at the door and led him into his capacious office. “You know Director Jacobs, don’t you?”
“Of course, and what brings the heads of the FBI and CIA together at dawn?” Donaldson asked with a smile. This had to be good. Heading the Select Committee was more than a job, it was fun, real fun to be one of the few people who were really in the know.
The third person in the room, Ritter, helped a fourth person out of a high-backed chair that had blocked him from view. It was Peter Henderson, Donaldson saw to his surprise. His aide’s suit was rumpled as though he’d been up all night. Suddenly it wasn’t fun anymore.
Judge Moore waxed solicitous. “You know Mr. Henderson, of course.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Donaldson asked, his voice more subdued than anyone expected.
“You lied to me, Senator,” Ritter said. “You promised that you would not reveal what I told you yesterday, knowing all the time you’d tell this man — “
“I did no such thing.”
“ — who then told a fellow KGB agent,” Ritter went on. “Emil?”
Jacobs set his coffee down. “We’ve been onto Mr. Henderson for some time. It was his contact that had us stumped. Some things are just too obvious. A lot of people in D.C. have regular cab pickup. Henderson’s contact was a cab driver. We finally got it right.”
“The way we found out about Henderson was through you, Senator.” Moore explained: “We had a very good agent in Moscow a few years ago, a colonel in their Strategic Rocket Forces. He’d been giving us good information for five years, and we were about to get him and his family out. We try to do that, you know; you can’t run agents forever, and we really owed this man. But I made the mistake of revealing his name to your committee. One week later, he was gone — vanished.
He was eventually shot, of course. His wife and three daughters were sent to Siberia. Our information is that they live in a lumber settlement east of the Urals. Typical sort of place, no plumbing, lousy food, no medical facilities available, and since they’re the family of a convicted traitor, you can probably imagine what sort of hell they must endure. A good man dead, and a family destroyed. Try thinking about that, Senator. This is a true story, and these are real people.
“We didn’t know at first who had leaked it. It had to be you, or one of two others, so we began to leak information to individual committee members. It took six months, but your name came up three times. After that we had Director Jacobs check out all of your staffers. Emil?”