The Will Of The People (Conspiracy Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

Since receiving his orders, Young had tried guile, deception,
bluster, and finally raw speed to get past – each time, the
Admiral Golovko
and
the
Soobrazitelnyy
had worked together to give Young the stark choice of giving
way or colliding with one of them.

Young thought through each tactic once again, visualising
them afresh from the Russians’ point of view. Despite the
John Finn’
s excellent
manoeuvrability, one or other of the smaller Russian vessels was
always a little too agile, a little too fast – brute force was
about all that was left, and even then he might have to barge his
way past both of them.

The crew had
been at General Quarters for several hours already, watertight
doors closed, ship in lockdown, prepared to go to that final step
to Battle Stations should the need arise. The Russian ships were
similarly in a state of high alert, both vessels fully prepared for
whatever might come next.

“Mr Rodriguez,” said Young to the officer of the deck (OOD).
“The
Golovko
will
probably continue on her present course and match our speed. Let’s
get really friendly – try and keep no more than fifty yards off her
starboard beam.”

Young kept a close eye on the Russian frigate, the
John Finn
creeping
closer until the two ships paralleled each other once more. As
expected the
Golovko
refused to give way, effectively blocking the
John Finn
from closing
in on Gdynia. The
Soobrazitelnyy
too closed up, ready to block the
John Finn
if she made a
sudden turn.

“Mr Rodriguez,
crowd her some more and we’ll try to force her away.”

The OOD gave the necessary orders and the
John Finn
closed in a yard at a time
towards the
Golovko
. The helmsman’s task was made far easier by a calm sea, and
the two vessels were now heading towards the same point some four
hundred yards ahead. Young was assuming the frigate would turn
aside before the two ships collided, but he wasn’t entirely
convinced; although six knots was only a slow jog, the U.S.
destroyer was twice as heavy as her Russian opponent, and in any
clash the
Golovko
would undoubtedly come off worst.

The
Golovko
continued to ignore the
John
Finn
. Young could clearly see the officers
on the frigate’s bridge, only one of whom appeared to show any
interest in the destroyer. An exasperated Young thumbed the
intercom, warning the ships’ crew as to the imminent collision.
Seconds later the OOD pressed down on the yellow knob of the
collision alarm, the strident triple beep a last despairing warning
of intent.

With neither
side prepared to give way, the outcome was inevitable.

The
John Finn
hit the frigate just aft of her 130mm gun and with an
anguished shriek the destroyer’s bow scraped along the side of
the
Golovko
, the
sound overwhelming the repetitive tone of the collision alarm.
Young was safely strapped in his commander’s seat, the others on
the bridge grabbing hold of anything substantial, but even so a
petty officer was knocked off-balance, crashing against the
starboard bulkhead. The destroyer’s greater momentum enabled her to
shrug off the encounter with the smaller warship, and her course
barely altered, the destroyer plunging forward in an explosion of
spray. The
Admiral Golovko
was thrust aside and she rolled sharply to port,
a fifteen-foot gap appearing in her starboard
guard-rail.

The two ships bounced apart, but the
Golovko
immediately wrenched herself
to starboard, virtually maintaining her original course abreast of
the USS
John Finn
.

“Damage-Control, Captain. Damage report ASAP.” Young glanced
across at the
Golovko
and a malicious smile touched his lips as he took in the wide
scar running along the frigate’s starboard side, defacing her
pennant number. The two ships continued to match course and speed,
now running some thirty yards apart.

“Captain,
Damage-Control. A few sore heads, Skipper; otherwise, okay.”

Young calmed his nerves and gave his opponent a hard stare:
although the
Admiral Golovko
had probably come off worst, she hadn’t yet
admitted defeat.
Best of three?

The second clash was virtually a repeat of the first, with
the
Golovko
veering just a few degrees but not giving way, and both ships
now adding a second set of scars to their paintwork.

Young finally lost patience, not willing to risk serious
damage to either ship – yet his next action might well do just
that. “Mr Rodriguez, take us two hundred yards off their starboard
beam.” He pressed the intercom, “Combat, Captain. Mr Serelli;
prepare to fire a shot across the
Golovko’
s bow; make it no closer
than fifty yards.”

Seconds later an alarm sounded throughout the ship as the
destroyer’s 5-inch gun swivelled around to face the Russian
frigate. The gun was radar-aimed and computer-controlled,
compensation made for the pitch and roll of the
John Finn
and movement of the
target, even variations in wind strength.

Young waited,
hoping something would happen so as to force him to alter his
decision. For a full five minutes he said nothing. Finally,
“Combat, Captain. Confirm weapons free; fire when ready.”

A loud crack from the gun followed almost instantly. The
resultant explosion was a good sixty yards from the
Golovko
, but water still
cascaded down upon her deck, momentarily shrouding the frigate in a
fine mist. Seconds later, the
Soobrazitelnyy
followed serenely in
her wake.

The tension on the
John
Finn’
s bridge was palpable, Young having
to force his hands to unclench. Again the minutes dragged
by.

Young keyed
the intercom, “Combat, Captain. Once again, Mr Serelli; a little
closer if you please.”

The second round was nearer by some twenty yards, yet
the
Golovko
simply coasted through the spray, seemingly impervious to
the
John Finn’
s
taunts. Young didn’t dare risk a third shot: any closer and the
frigate could easily be hit. The Russians certainly weren’t afraid
of playing chicken, and it took guts to sit back and do nothing on
the assumption the
John Finn
wouldn’t actually blow you out of the
water.

“Mr Rodriguez,
steer course zero-one-zero; we’ll give ourselves a bit of space and
review our options.” Young was running out of ideas. If he didn’t
come up with something soon, there were no guarantees the Polish
navy would be quite so accommodating. And it didn’t feel right to
be retreating from an enemy just half your size... Perhaps a short
break would give him sudden inspiration.

The gap between the
John Finn
and the two Russian ships slowly increased, Young
watching in frustration as the Russians cruised sedately on, no
doubt congratulating each other on a job well done.

“Bridge,
Sonar. Passive contact: bearing two-five-five; range approximately
7000 yards; possible submarine, confidence level high; designate –
Sierra-One. Too much interference to confirm class or
identity.”

The atmosphere
on the bridge changed instantly from subdued anticipation to one of
confusion. A new voice interrupted, “Bridge, Combat. No friendly
subs anticipated this grid-area; contact potentially hostile.”

Young felt new rivulets of sweat run their way down under his
collar. If the contact was indeed a submarine then he wasn’t so
sure it was hostile, it potentially one of Poland’s ageing
diesel-electric boats. The
Golovko
’s reaction to being
sandwiched between a U.S. destroyer and a Polish submarine would be
unpredictable, it hardly likely to be one of passive
acceptance.

Young’s fears
were quickly realised. “Bridge, Combat,” said an excited voice,
“The Russians have gone to Battle Stations; both ships.”

Young made an
instant decision, “I have the Conn. All engines ahead flank! Left
full rudder; come to course two-seven-five!”

The orders were repeated and the engines throbbed as
the
John Finn
surged forward, pulling sharply to port, her new course
aiming her directly at the
Golovko
. By putting the U.S. ship
into close contact with the two Russian vessels, Young was hoping
the submarine’s captain would think twice before doing anything
stupid.

“Battle
Stations, Sir?” the OOD enquired, more calmly than he looked.

Young shook his head, “We’re trying to help the
Golovko
, not sink her.
If we go to Battle Stations, the Russians might well assume we’re
attacking. That’s quite possibly a Polish sub out there and if
we’re not careful someone is going to start a shooting war.” Young
sounded far more confident about the identity of the submarine than
he felt, but if it was Russian, then the
Golovko’
s reaction made no
sense.

“Bridge,
Sonar. Sierra-One: bearing two-six-eight, range 6600 yards, speed
six knots; course zero-two-two, target class and identity still
unknown.”

The
John Finn
accelerated directly towards the Russian frigate, now some
four hundred yards away. The
Golovko
had also speeded up, trying
to distance herself from the perceived threat. The
Soobrazitelnyy
swept
round in a sharp turn, accepting the challenge and angling west
towards the submarine, trying to protect the
Golovko
.

“Combat, Captain. Keep those sub reports coming.” Young
should ideally be in the CIC but he felt happier on the Bridge,
somehow better able to judge the
Golovko’
s intentions. And there was
always the danger that she could still interpret the
John Finn’
s actions as
an attack. Using the bow-mounted active sonar might give the sub
something to think about and perhaps convince the Russians that
the
John Finn
was
as confused as they were – or it might just make matters worse,
forcing the sub to react.

“Bridge,
Combat. Sierra-One: target lost; there’s too much noise, Sir.”

Young couldn’t blame anyone; with the increase in speed the
sonar team would be hard pressed to hear anything other than
the
John Finn’
s
engines – that’s why he should have had a helo scouring the sea
with sonobuoys and active sonar. To a casual observer, the
John Finn
was an
impressive sight, the destroyer now at full speed with her wake
churning astern, turning slightly to starboard in order to keep her
bow aimed at the
Golovko
. The situation was changing
rapidly, both Russian warships obviously fearful of the submarine’s
intent.

The
John Finn
continued its dash directly at the
Golovko
, the Russian frigate in turn
slowly pulling herself round to starboard towards the American
warship. Young gave a smile of satisfaction, thankful the Russian
captain had followed his lead; a torpedo attack was just as likely
to hit the
John Finn
as the
Golovko
and a precarious form of mutual protection was now in
place.

But not for long. Young tried to work through what each of
the other captains were thinking: the
Golovko
was distracted from her
prime task, out of position and at present unable to obstruct
the
John Finn
;
the
Soobrazitelnyy
too had other concerns. Assuming the Russian ships weren’t in
the mood to fire on the
John
Finn
, then Young’s single worry was the
unidentified submarine. And knowingly or not, the sub had already
played its part.

“Left standard rudder,” Young ordered. “Come to course
two-seven-zero; maintain full speed.” If the submarine’s sonar
operators were doing their job, they would soon be reporting that
the
John Finn
was
now past the two Russian ships and heading at speed towards Gdynia.
If the submarine was Polish, surely that would be enough to
encourage the boat to withdraw. If not – well, that particular
scenario still didn’t make any sense.

The macabre dance continued, the
Golovko
belatedly sweeping around to
try and head off the
John
Finn
. The
Soobrazitelnyy
seemed confused as to
what to do, and then she too swung back towards the destroyer,
abandoning her race to counter the submarine.

Young mentally crossed his fingers: if no-one pressed a
button marked ‘Fire’ whether it be in Polish or Russian, then
the
John Finn
was
finally about to satisfy her orders. Five more minutes and he might
even give a smug smile of self-satisfaction.