Black Sea Affair (44 page)

"The good news, Mr. President -- the freighter did not turn toward London."

"Where is it?"

Ayers unfurled the navigation map again.

"The tip of the arrow shows the position of the freighter. She's headed into the North Sea, Mr. President."

"The North Sea? What's up with that?"

"Don't know, sir. Britain's three naval bases, at Portsmouth, Devon-port, and Clyde, are on the south and east sides of the island. Maybe they're going to disrupt North Sea oil supplies, or maybe they'll turn west when they clip the top of Scotland and head to the east coast of the United States."

"Okay, " Mack said. "I want hourly updates on that freighter's position, and more often than that if she does something funky. I want fighter intercepts of any bomber flying off the U.S. coastline. Ride 'em like white on rice. If one of 'em turns inland at all, splash 'em. Also, Secretary Lopez, I'm ordering full mobilization of United States Armed Forces. Call up all reserves."

"But, Mr. President, " Secretary Mauney pleaded.

Mack raised his palm. "Those are my orders."

St. Nicholas Naval Cathedral
St. Petersburg, Russia

At least they had removed his handcuffs and let him get into uniform, Pete thought as he rode in the back of the black Mercedes with Zack Brewer to the courthouse. Captain Ann Glover, the U.S. Naval Attache, sat in the front seat, along with the driver, who was also a U.S. embassy employee.

Zack had warned him that everything was possibly bugged, including the car used by U.S. embassy personnel. Pete wondered how Zack would handle his case without a chance to prepare for whatever awaited.

The armed Russian military jeep swung to the right, and the Mercedes followed. The car stopped. An army of photographers, television cameras, and press types were waiting along the sidewalk.

"Just wait on the Russians, " Captain Glover ordered. "They're supposed to provide an armed escort inside."

"And remember, sir, " Zack added, "don't answer any press questions. If any answer is needed, I will handle it."

"Right, Commander." Pete looked out the window at the huge light blue baroque building with its white columns, a green roof, and golden spires reaching into the wintry sky. "That is an impressive courthouse."

"It's the courthouse for your case, " Captain Glover said, "and it's also the St. Nicholas Naval Cathedral. It dates back to Peter the Great. It's the most hallowed naval site in all of Russia."

"So
this
is St. Nicholas, " Zack said. "I've read quite a bit about it. Talk about media-orchestrated imagery."

"I don't follow, " Pete said.

Captain Glover said, "St. Nicholas is a cathedral turned into a naval shrine. They have memorials to many Russian sailors lost at sea over the years. The locals call it the Sailor's Cathedral. One of their subs, the
Komsomolets
, went down off Norway in 1989, and there's a memorial to the forty-two dead sailors there. There's been talk in the last couple of days about erecting a memorial to the crew of the
Alexander Popovich
here."

"That's just great, " Pete said. "Sounds like they're planning a fair and impartial trial."

The door opened. A Russian soldier motioned them to get out.

Pete stepped into the biting cold.

"Commander Miranda! Commander Brewer!" Members of the press shouted at them from both sides of the walkway leading into the building. "Is it true that you torpedoed a civilian ship carrying orphans? . . . What were your orders, sir? . . . Have you defected to Russia?"

"The commander has no comments at this time, " Zack shouted over the barricade of Russian soldiers as they walked swiftly toward the doors of the building.

Soldiers opened the doors of the main entrance of the cathedral. Naval art commemorating the history of the Russian Navy adorned the walls under the ornate chandeliers, and spectators jammed the pews on both sides, as if they had come for an Easter Sunday ser vice. Camera strobes popped like lightning in a summer thunderstorm. Spectators murmured at the presence of the American naval officers.

The soldiers nudged Pete and Zack down the aisle to the chancery, which had been transformed into a courtroom. They pointed the officers to an empty, ornate table to the right, which had several headsets plugged into a console panel.

A Russian naval officer, who looked to be in his thirties, walked up and spoke in English.

"I am Lieutenant Vaslov of the Baltic Sea Fleet. I will be sitting at counsel table to assist you with the intricacies of Russian military law should you desire. The headphones will give you a translation of the proceedings."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, " Zack Brewer said.

"I know who you are, Commander Brewer. Let me make this clear. I did not volunteer for this assignment. I was ordered to take it."

"Thank you anyway, " Zack said, then turned to Pete. "Let's have a seat, sir."

Zack sat on the left of the table, Pete in the center, and the angry Russian officer sat to the right. Pete turned around to scan the large crowd. He hoped to see Masha Katovich. Something about her seemed comforting.

Instead, he saw faces that looked pale and angry. His eyes caught a familiar face. His executive officer, Frank Pippen, was seated two rows behind counsel table. To Frank's right, Lieutenant Darwin McCaffity, and to his right, Lieutenant Walt Brown.

How had he missed them when he walked in? His entire crew sat in five rows behind the defense table, heavily guarded by Russian soldiers on each side. Pete and Frank exchanged subtle smiles and nods. Then he remembered what the angry admiral told him in Moscow.

Your crew's fate will be tied to yours. If you are convicted, they will
be convicted. And if you are acquitted, then they will be set free.

Pete broke eye contact with his exec. He looked at the still-empty prosecution table. Just behind it, a young pair of innocent eyes reached out and froze him.

Dima. The orphan on my sub.
And beside Dima, all the other orphans sat in the row. They had other chaperones now. Masha Katovich was nowhere in sight.

"Put on your headset, Commander, " Zack Brewer said.

Pete complied.

"All rise!"

There was a shuffling in the pews of the cathedral. The three old officers he had faced in Moscow walked in. Two younger army officers carrying briefcases, probably military lawyers, stood behind the prosecution table.

"Everyone may sit except the accused, his attorneys, and the crew of the USS
Honolulu
." The general sitting in the middle banged his gavel, then looked over at the admiral.

"Now, Commander Miranda, when we last spoke, I asked you how you would plead to the charges against you and you said you wanted an attorney. I see now that you have not only one attorney -- but two. An American naval officer, and a fine member of the Russian Navy to provide you assistance. So I ask you again . . . how do you plead?"

"I am Lieutenant Commander Zack Brewer of the United States Navy. I represent Commander Peter Miranda in these proceedings. To the charges and specifications, my client pleads . . . not guilty!"

CHAPTER 29

The White House

Mr. President, USS
Charlotte
reports that the Egyptian freighter is turning east -- from the North Sea into the Baltic Sea, " Admiral John Ayers announced.

"The Baltic Sea? Why there?"

"I don't know, Mr. President, " Ayers said. "At least it's headed away from England."

"Something's not adding up. Let's see the navigational charts."

"Aye, aye, Mr. President."

Admiral Ayers pointed his fingers. His aide rolled out the latest navigational chart.

"He's headed straight to Copenhagen, " Secretary of State Mauney observed.

"Why would terrorists want to blow up Copenhagen?" the secretary of defense asked.

"Why do they murder innocent women and children in civilian office towers?" the vice president asked.

"Maybe Copenhagen because it's a Western capital, " Secretary Mauney said.

"I can see London, " Secretary Lopez said. "But Copenhagen makes no sense to me."

"Or maybe he's going through the Danish Straits and into the Baltic, " Cynthia Hewitt, national security advisor, said.

Secretary Lopez spoke up. "The question, Mr. President, is whether we can afford to let that freighter get so close to a major Western capital. I remind you, sir, that you were prepared to take her out if she turned

toward London, and now she will pass within a few miles of Copenhagen if she remains on this course."

Mack scratched his head. "Secretary Mauney, are you advocating that I take military action now? You've been the one member of this cabinet who's opposed military action from the very beginning."

"That's your decision, Mr. President. But this freighter's proximity to Copenhagen makes me uneasy."

"I share Secretary Mauney's concerns, " Secretary Lopez said, "but let's face it. Copenhagen isn't London. Britain means more to America than any other ally except possibly Israel."

"Sure. They could light the fuse on Copenhagen, but that makes no sense. We should hold off until we can get more information on this Egyptian skipper, " Secretary Lopez continued. "I'll bet he's going into the Baltic to make an anonymous cargo transfer to another freighter -- maybe Swedish or Finnish. You know a Swedish or Finnish freighter could sail into New York harbor without batting an eye, whereas an Egyptian freighter will garner some second looks. I say we keep tailing her, and when she initiates a cargo transfer, we surface the sub and have the SEAL team on the
Charlotte
board her."

"That's a plausible theory, " the CIA director said.

"Why not board it now, Mr. President?" Cynthia Hewitt asked.

She had a good point. And what if millions died in Copenhagen because he failed to act? Mack again prayed silently for guidance.

"Because we're already in trouble for the perception that we sink unarmed freighters and because the freighter has done nothing illegal on the high seas that we're aware of." Why didn't that explanation take the knot out of his stomach? He turned to his CIA director. "Mr. Director, where's the dossier on this Egyptian captain?"

"We're working on it, Mr. President."

"Speed it up. I want to know everything about him. I want to know who his mamma was, who his daddy is, where he was educated, what groups he's been a member of . . . the whole works."

"Yes, sir, Mr. President."

St. Nicholas Naval Cathedral
St. Petersburg, Russia

In the case of the People of the Russian Republic versus Commander Peter Miranda, on the charges of crimes against humanity and destruction of -- and conspiracy to destroy -- property of the Russian Republic, we will now hear from the prosecution."

A slim officer wearing the green dress uniform of the Russian Army rose to his feet. He stared for a second at Pete, and then turned and faced the three crusty officers sitting at the tables in the chancery of the cathedral.

"Generals. Admiral. I am Major Konstantin Andropov of the Russian Army. We gather today, in this great cathedral, a building dedicated to the great men of the sea who gave their lives for the motherland . . . to see that justice is done.