The Will Of The People (Conspiracy Trilogy Book 1) (33 page)

Karenin’s orders were to help maintain the blockade, and
the
Admiral Golovko
looked to be alone and outgunned. The world was a very
different place to that of just twenty-four hours ago, and Karenin
worried as to whether he should be basing his decision on a purely
personal criterion – namely, what action would best help stabilise
the coup d’état. The average Russian had little respect for their
Navy and the Government treated them almost as second-class
citizens. Underpaid, the sailors frequently stole what they could
from their own ships, sending the proceeds back home to help their
desperate families. With hardliners in charge, all that would be
bound to change for the better.

Decision made, the
Gepard
edged cautiously forwards. The atmosphere in the
control room was relaxed and confident: the submarine was the
hunter, silently patrolling its territory, always ready to make the
most of any opportunity.

“Conn, Sonar. Gold-One and Gold-Two confirmed as Arleigh
Burke-class destroyer USS
John Finn
and Type 23 frigate HMS
Portland
; re-designating contacts by
name. Now bearing zero-zero-eight; range 6800 metres; speed six
knots on heading two-nine-five.
Gold-Three
now designated
Gold-One, identity still
unknown; same bearing, speed and range.”

“Steady on three-four-zero,” Karenin ordered. “Secure all
fans; rig for silent running.” He was content to watch and wait. If
the
Admiral Golovko
needed help, then a comrade was close at hand.

Young stood in the CIC and watched with concern the confusion
of symbols on the tactical display. A hundred and fifty yards
astern was the Gibraltar-registered tanker
Alopochen
, her destination the
Liquid Fuel Terminal at Gdansk; in her wake trailed a second
escort, HMS
Portland
. The edge of the Russian exclusion zone was some three miles
distant, almost due west, the tactical display showing it as a thin
red line. Cruising just inside the red boundary was a familiar
guardian, the
Admiral Golovko
waiting patiently for the convoy’s arrival, her
presence a persistent reminder of Russian intransigence.

Young was thankful if a little surprised the
Admiral Golovko
was all
alone, and just over the horizon on the northern sector of its
patrol, one of the
Finn’s
two Seahawk helicopters scoured the Bay for any
underwater threat, its dipping sonar in active mode to frighten off
unwelcome visitors. Sonobuoys dropped by the Seahawk helped further
extend the
John Finn’s
sonar reach, and even though intelligence had concluded that
Monday’s contact was most likely one of Poland’s diesel-electric
attack submarines, there were still doubts – it might even have
been a totally false alert. The Baltic was proving to be a
nightmare of confused signals; the Seahawk had chased down five
false alerts in the last ninety minutes, and the
John Finn’s
Anti-Submarine Warfare Officer (ASWO) was forced to become
rather more selective, taking his time with the last three
potential contacts before responding with a resigned shake of his
head.

Young didn’t share the ASWO’s disappointment: their task was
difficult enough without a Russian submarine to contend with, and
deep down he was nervous as to exactly how far the Russians were
prepared to go. Theoretically, the Seahawk’s operation was already
in breach of the extended no-fly zone. Young had been instructed to
ignore such restrictions if the operational safety of the convoy so
dictated – thus leaving him with a very unhappy choice. He had
serious concerns that the helicopter itself could become a target,
a low-value option to illustrate Russian intent. Consequently, he
had ordered the Seahawk not to enter the exclusion zone until
the
Golovko
’s
likely response was better understood.

Young’s own orders permitted the use of deadly force should
any of the convoy be attacked. Attacked – not impeded or baulked,
and Young could once again be trying to batter his way through the
blockade. If so, then the
Alopochen
would create a serious problem for the Russians:
she was far off being a supertanker, but at 200 metres and
displacement 50,000 tonnes – over five times that of the
John Finn
– her
manoeuvrability was limited, thus leaving the
Admiral Golovko
with some fairly
unpalatable options.

In theory, NATO’s ultimatum to Russia had seemed simple
enough. Not surprisingly, the insurance companies and the merchant
ships’ crews were less enthusiastic about the potential risks, and
it had taken various high-powered negotiations before a suitable
compromise had been hammered out and volunteers found, appropriate
bonus payments helping ease the way. The
John Finn’s
earlier success in
breaking the blockade had apparently made the destroyer the ideal
escort for the
Alopochen
and Young was keen to prove it had been no mere
fluke. Yet, as before, he had no clear idea of how best to outfox
the
Admiral Golovko
. Her companion of Monday was some three miles to the south
and making no attempt to join the party – whether that was good
news or not, Young couldn’t quite decide.

Ten minutes later, he was back on the bridge, staring out at
a sea like blue glass, mirroring the clear sky above. The
atmosphere around him was relaxed, Young even managing to share a
joke with the helmsman. The crew were again at General Quarters
rather than Battle Stations, prepared for combat causalities and
just one small step away from a combat alert. The
Golovko
was now a mile
to the south-west, slowly meandering her way towards the
convoy.

Young’s chosen strategy was based on simplicity: the
Alopochen
was instructed
to maintain her course and present speed of six knots come what
may. If the
Golovko
got in the way that would be unfortunate; basically, it was
another game of chicken, except the Russian tactics of Monday
certainly wouldn’t work with such an unwieldy ship as the
Alopochen
, and
the
Golovko
’s
captain would be well aware of the tanker’s
shortcomings.

“Bridge,
Combat. We’re now inside the Russian exclusion zone, Captain.”

Young turned and nodded at the OOD, and seconds later
the
John Finn
angled away, taking up a position some fifty yards off
the
Alopochen’s
port bow. The destroyer kept station just ahead of the
tanker, paralleling her course. Astern, HMS
Portland
closed to within seventy
yards of the
Alopochen
, just off her starboard side.

Young paced the
John Finn’s
bridge while anxiously awaiting the
Golovko’s
response. In
his mind, he had gone through every possible scenario, trying to
anticipate each danger and counter it effectively. But then he had
no control over the
Golovko
, and even the
Alopochen’s
actions were
unpredictable.

The four ships crept closer, the Russian frigate travelling
at no more than ten knots, eight hundred yards now between her and
the convoy. A warning hooter sounded, then there was a puff of
smoke from the
Golovko’
s 130mm gun. The shell landed a hundred yards from the
tanker, far enough away for there to be a slight delay before the
sound of the explosion reached the
John
Finn
.

A command from Young and the destroyer’s forward gun
responded, the shell sending a cascade of spray out towards the
Russian frigate. To Young’s eyes the explosion seemed rather less
impressive than the
Golovko’s
offering, and it seemed a very strange way to
engage the ‘enemy’, with both sides deliberately doing all they
could to miss the other.

Undeterred, the tanker steadfastly maintained her course.
Young half-expected a radio message from the
Alopochen’s
captain, but there was
nothing. According to reports, in previous exchanges the Russians
had first hailed the errant merchant ship to warn it to turn back,
but with the escorts’ presence the rules had plainly altered. There
was a second shell from the
Golovko
, closer by some fifty yards,
and again the
John Finn
returned fire.

Young found himself clenching his fists, fearful as to what
the next few moments might bring. The
Alopochen’s
captain was a brave man
but he wasn’t suicidal: any degree of damage and he would turn
tail, leaving the three warships to slug it out amongst
themselves.

The
Golovko
swept towards them, aiming directly at the tanker. Abruptly,
she wrenched herself round to port, driving across the
Alopochen
’s bow; an
instant later she swung sharply back to pass the tanker on
the
John Finn’s
blind side. As the frigate slid between the
Alopochen
and the
Portland
, there was a
burst of gunfire from one of her two heavy machine guns.

The
Alopochen
never wavered, her great bulk thrashing her way on towards
Gdansk. The
Golovko
appeared from under the tanker’s stern, the
Portland
having been
forced to veer to starboard to avoid a collision.

“Bridge, Combat. The
Alopochen
reports no damage; the
Russians were just firing over their heads.”

Young gave a long sigh of relief, immediately ordering
the
John Finn
to
reduce speed, while requesting that the
Alopochen
do the opposite.
The
Golovko
was
now behind the tanker, trying to turn and playing catch-up. If
Young could interpose the
John Finn
between the Russian frigate and the tanker, then
he would feel far more in control; the
Golovko
would then have two warships
between her and her target.

Whatever the
Golovko
tried, Young was determined to respond in kind –
and at the moment the Russians were owed a warm welcome from
the
John Finn’s
25mm cannon

“Conn, Sonar.
We have multiple explosions in the water; Gold-One now leading
convoy; range 4800 metres.”

Karenin concentrated on the tactical display, trying to make
sense of what was happening on the surface. Despite – or perhaps
because of – the use of force, the merchant ship had obviously
pushed his way past the
Golovko
, and the route to Gdansk was
now open. With a destroyer and a frigate to protect Gold-One,
the
Golovko
stood
little chance of surviving should it choose to adopt a more
effective method of stopping the merchant vessel.

Karenin watched in frustration as the convoy moved ever
deeper into the exclusion zone, the
Admiral Golovko
now lagging well
behind. Abruptly he turned to his XO and gestured him to one
side.

“Yuri,” he
said quietly, “Gold-One is now some eight kilometres inside the
exclusion zone. Our orders are very clear: we must do all we can to
prevent this merchant vessel reaching Gdansk. I intend to use
deadly force – do you concur?”

Yuri Alenikov
was a competent, if uninspiring XO, a man who always followed the
rules and consequently would never have his own command. He stood
open-mouthed, staring at Karenin, before mumbling his answer.
“Deadly force, Sir? You mean to sink the merchant vessel?”

“That is one
option,” Karenin replied, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial
whisper. It was important for the others in the control room not to
sense there was some dispute – there could be no second-thoughts or
doubts if it came to a fight. “I believe the merchant vessel is a
tanker, and sinking him would likely create an environmental
catastrophe, affecting Kaliningrad as well as Poland. We could fire
a torpedo but not arm it, and hope the threat itself encourages
them to see sense and retreat. In either case, we might
subsequently find ourselves under attack from both warships.” He
paused, allowing Alenikov time to digest what he was saying.
“Instead, I intend to fire two torpedoes at the American destroyer:
if he is hit, the tanker will certainly flee, and we will also have
reduced the opposing force by half.”

Alenikov
couldn’t hold Karenin’s gaze, “We should confirm our orders with
Kaliningrad, Sir.”

It was the
sort of tame answer Karenin had half-expected. “That would take
time, Yuri, and put the boat at risk. Our orders are perfectly
clear, as are the Rules of Engagement. If we do nothing, the tanker
will reach Gdansk and others will follow; by our inaction, we will
have allowed this to happen.”