Defcon One (1989) (6 page)

The three newcomers to the circle had been bolstered by the zeal of Zhilinkhov and Dichenkovko. Their passion had grown as Zhilinkhov outlined the detailed plan in a lengthy secret meeting.

An accident had been arranged to kill the former general secretary.

A Libyan militiaman, expert in the use of portable air-defense missiles, had used a Soviet SA-14 to down the Russian transport carrying the Kremlin chief. The recruited Libyan had been murdered less than thirty minutes after the crash by a Dichenkovko loyalist.

The three current Politburo members had acted swiftly to align the other eight members behind Zhilinkhov and Dichenkovko.

The group had been at odds over many issues and readily embraced the plan Zhilinkhov presented to restore Communist party principles. The Politburo, with one dissenter, had elected their friend and former Politburo member, Viktor Pavlovich Zhilinkhov, to fill the position of general secretary and president.

After Zhilinkhov had entrenched himself in the position of consummate power, the inner circle had initiated the next phase.

The steps necessary to probe the Americans in preparation for a nuclear, chemical, and biological first strike to the United States were begun.

Zhilinkhov had enlisted a longtime friend. Minister of Defense and General of the Army Trofim Filippovich Porfir'yev, in the inner circle.

Porfir'yev, the Russian equivalent of the American secretary of defense and chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff combined, had initially been shocked by the magnitude of Zhilinkhov's intent. Although Porfir'yev was fully apprised of the different first-strike scenarios rehearsed by the senior military commanders, he had never discussed the possibilities with the ruling hierarchy.

After meeting with the other members of Zhilinkhov's aggregation, Porfir'yev embraced the bold plan and strongly recommended that the group include Marshal Nicholas Georgiyevich Bogdonoff, chief of the general staff.

The members of Zhilinkhov's circle, although concerned about security, agreed. They didn't want too many individuals, even at the top, to be aware of the secret strike plan.

Bogdonoff had always been a fervent advocate of the preemptive strike theory. He would provide the key military ingredient during the first stages of investigating American reactions.

Zhilinkhov and Porfir'yev approached the marshal of the Soviet Union in the general secretary's private dining room.

Bogdonoff, though initially stunned, enthusiastically joined the conspiracy. He immediately set about implementing the military steps to probe the Americans without alarming any leaders in the Soviet military.

The first step had already been completed. Russian bombers with fighter escorts had approached American battle groups.

The inner circle knew they could launch cruise missiles at the U.S.carriers from within 150 kilometers.

Now Soviet submarines would pursue U.S. carrier groups, pressing closer than ever before, to evaluate Russian first-strike capabilities.

The bomber and submarine probes had been carefully designed to appear as normal military operations under the new regime. Zhilinkhov didn't want to create any suspicion in the Kremlin, or the military, prior to giving the order to launch missiles.

If the secret plan leaked out, Zhilinkhov's power to launch a strike on a moment's notice, without question, would be stripped by the eight uninformed Politburo members. Zhilinkhov was one of two men on the planet who could launch a massive, world-threatening nuclear strike, on his own authority.

Zhilinkhov now waited patiently for the next step to take place sinking the American submarine prowling the Sea of Okhotsk. / The general secretary looked at his watch again, thinking about the afternoon session with the Central Committee. He would tell them of his economic reforms, reorganization of bureaucratic dynasties, industrial incentive plan, and revitalization of the energy industry.

His message was simple: the future would restore Russia to her prominence, if the Party would give him the time needed.

Comrade General Secretary, the members await you. It is past one, Dimitri, head of the kitchen staff, gently reminded the eighty-six-year-old party leader.

USS DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER

Linnemeyer awoke in his cabin as the ship rolled hard to starboard in a 180-degree course reversal. The CO turned over, glanced at his portable alarm clock, blinked a number of times to clear his vision, and read the hour. He had been asleep over seven hours, much longer than his customary four or five hours.

Linnemeyer rubbed his face gingerly, finding the stubble coarse and uncomfortable. He forced his way out of the warm, inviting bunk and reached for his shaving kit, knocking over a glass of water in the semidarkness of his room.

The private stateroom contained a toilet and shower, the size of a small closet, off to the side of a combination sitting room/bedroom.

Linnemeyer brushed his teeth, shaved, and enjoyed a brief, but exhilarating, hot shower. Conservative use of fresh water was mandatory aboard Navy vessels at sea.

He changed into fresh work khakis, smartly laundered and pressed to razor-sharp crispness, and combed his hair. Slipping into his sage green flight jacket, Linnemeyer grabbed his wallet and watch, opened his cabin door and stepped into the soft red glow of the passageway.

CIC was a short walk away and he looked forward to having a hot cup of coffee, along with an update briefing on the latest Soviet activities, before going back to have his dinner. He had slept through lunch and his body was telling him it was past time to eat.

Linnemeyer stepped over the hatch-combing into the Combat Information Center and was greeted by the senior petty officer of the watch, Jim Puckette, electronics technician first class.

Good evening, sir.

Evening. Where's the watch officer? Linnemeyer asked, observing the activity in the room.

Went to the head, sir. Be right back, Puckette responded, knowing the CO didn't have a lot of patience. Care for some hot tea, sir?

Linnemeyer glanced at the small, fold-out table normally reserved for the battered coffee pot.

Hot tea? What happened to the coffee? Linnemeyer asked as he noticed the watch officer, Lt. Pete Dyestrom, step back into CIC.

Coffee pot shelled, sir. Puckette looked at Dyestrom, seeking approval. We deep-sixed it, sir. Graham broke out Wilson's four-cupper.He only drinks tea.

Puckette reached for the CO's cup hanging on the bulkhead and poured him a steaming cup of strong rosewood tea.

Sounds great to me. Can't be choosey when ya' come a-bummin', Linnemeyer responded, noticing the grins on the sailors' faces.

Well, Pete, what's the picture at the present time? the CO asked the CIC watch officer.

Do you want the good news or the bad news first?

Let's go with the good. I'm an optimist, Linnemeyer grinned as he tasted his tea, still too hot to drink comfortably.

The Kennedy is joining us. They're out of the Med now, somewhere off Lisbon Dyestrom abruptly ended the sentence when his intercom rang.

Linnemeyer looked at the ship's position plot as Dyestrom completed his conversation.

Staff wants to see you, sir. They tried your quarters and figured you'd be here, Dyestrom hurried. The bad news, briefly, is that we still have the two subs trailing along and the Kiev is standing off about Dyestrom looked over to the petty officer manning CIC plot.

One hundred five miles, zero-six-zero, sir.

That's about it. No action yet. We have a two-plane Barrier Combat Air Patrol orbiting seventy miles northeast of the ship.

As you can see, sir, we've been steaming back and forth over the same course the past six hours, Dyestrom concluded.

Okay. Appreciate the tea. What's the deck status? Linnemeyer asked as he drank the last swallow in his cup.

Spotted for immediate CAP launch, sir. The pilots are in the cockpits.The Hummer is airborne, along with two Vikings and a tanker. One Viking is on the subs and the other is patrolling around the battle group.Also, we have a LAMPS antisubmarine helo between us and the subs. We are relieving everyone on station at four-hour intervals, Dyestrom glanced at the twenty-four-hour clock. Another thirty-five minutes before the next launch.

Sounds mighty fine, Pete. See ya' later.' Linnemeyer rinsed his cup and placed it on a wall peg before stepping into the passageway leading to the ship's bridge.

The Trident U fleet ballistic missile submarine, one of the newest in the inventory, had been fitted with new D5 missiles during a dry-dock period in March 1990.

The advanced nuclear sub was now on patrol with the Seventh Fleet and attached to the battle group led by the carrier USS Constellation.

The skipper of the Tennessee, Capt. Mark Mcconnell, had received orders to return to the battle group. He had been reconnoitering deep in the Sea of Okhotsk and was underway for the Constellation and her escort ships.

Ohio-class boomers normally patrolled the depths of open oceans.

However, the Tennessee had been given a highly classified mission to reconnoiter the capabilities of the latest Soviet antisubmarine warfare (ASW) technology.

The Russians had launched a number of secret Cosmos satellites in 1991.

Each unit contained a blue hue blue-green laser able to penetrate deep below the ocean's surface.

The laser system converted ultraviolet light from an xenon laser source to ultrahigh-intensity, narrow-band blue-green laser light.

Soviet scientists, in less than fourteen months, had launched twenty-nine Cosmos satellites with only one failure. The laser aboard the fourteenth satellite had failed to energize.

The Soviet technological breakthrough had caused great concern in the Pentagon. Had the Russians finally been able to make the oceans transparent? Were our submarines being tracked from home port to destination?

If the answer was yes, our worst fears would be true. The Soviets' latest generation bomber, the Blackjack, carrying nuclear-tipped cruise missiles, would be able to select and destroy every American submarine. The triad of United States land-based nuclear missiles, bombers, and submarines would be irretrievably weakened.

Another question military planners needed to have answered involved Soviet antiballistic missile defenses. Could an American ballistic missile submarine get close to Russian shores in order to shorten the flight time of their missiles? Senior military strategic planners believed the less time in the air, the less chance of interception by Soviet countermeasure systems.

Fourteen nautical miles inside Severo-Kurilsk, off the southern tip of Kamchatka Peninsula, the Tennessee had been intercepted by a Udaloy-class antisubmarine warfare ship carrying two Kamov Ka-27 Helix-A antisub helicopters.

The blue-green laser from Cosmos Kuybyshev had indeed detected the United States submarine in the Sea of Okhotsk.

The American sub had been running at two-thirds speed at a depth of 200 feet, generating a loud acoustical signature, when one of the Russian helos spotted it with a sonobuoy trailing in the water.

To exacerbate matters, two Soviet submarines, one Akula-class and one Sierra-class nuclear attack submarine, were positioned between the Tennessee and the American battle group.

They had been notified by the Russian antisubmarine ship of the exact position of the U.S. nuclear sub.

Skipper, I think we've crapped in our mess kit, Cmdr. Ken Houston, the Tennessee's executive officer, said in a hushed voice.

The sub was in a state of silent running, descending deeper after being detected and pinged by the helo's mother ship.

You're right, Ken, Mcconnell acknowledged, looking at his watch. I should have had the patience to keep us slowed down.

Both officers knew the Russians would be enraged if they suspected, or knew, how far the Tennessee had probed into their territorial waters.

Well, Ken, Mcconnell said in a whisper, was it the laser or a chance encounter?

I don't know, Houston replied, slowly shaking his head.

They were right on top of us.

Yes... Mcconnell said, baffled. Still, it could be a coincidence.

You think they might drop on us? CPO Clay Booker, the senior sonarman, asked Houston.

I don't know. The situation is really strained right now.

We were in their backyard, Houston said, checking the sub's diving rate.

They shot down a 747 full of civilians with no provocation and full knowledge that it was an airliner. Can't be sure of anything when we're dealing with the Russians, Houston concluded, as Mcconnell gave orders to evade the Soviet helicopter.

Right standard rudder, the captain commanded.

Right standard rudder, the officer of the deck repeated to Mcconnell.

All ahead two-thirds. Steady heading one-two-five, Mcconnell barked, as the nuclear sub continued deeper and changed course in order to escape the Russian antisubmarine vessel.

Aye aye, sir.

Booker leaned over to Houston and asked in a whispered voice, Sir, do we have our whale disguise?