Fatal Thunder: A Jerry Mitchell Novel (31 page)

Simonis knew the status of each of his boats intimately, of course. So many men away on leave, machinery needing repairs, weapons aboard, and a dozen other things that had to be dealt with before a nuclear submarine could go to sea. “Do they expect a reply?”

“Yes sir. They want to know the earliest time each boat could sail.”

Simonis was already heading to the bedroom to change. He looked over at his wife, Louise, as she worked on a scrapbook in the dining room; she glanced up, curious but not terribly concerned. Calls in the late evening were common, and she knew her husband would stay safely ashore.

“All right, have Captain Jacobs, Commander Walker, and the three submarine COs report to squadron headquarters ASAP. Is there any hint of what this is all about?”

“No, sir, just orders to get ready.”

“Very well. Have a car pick me up in fifteen minutes.”

“Aye, aye, Commodore.”

Simonis already had his uniform for tomorrow laid out, so he quickly changed out of his civilian clothes. He always made it his business to be able to get out the door quickly, with a minimum of fuss. Even as he dressed, he was drafting his reply to SUBPAC.
Texas
was already out, returning from an exercise with the Philippine Navy. She had food and stores for several more weeks at sea. Question: Should he hold her on station in the area? Coming back to Guam could waste valuable time, depending on where the maddeningly unnamed crisis was happening.

It would take days to get
Oklahoma City
ready to sail. One of her condensers was in pieces while they traced a stubborn seawater leak. She’d been operating with the problem for a couple of weeks, and he’d finally allowed the boat’s crew to try and find and fix it here in Guam. If they didn’t, it might mean repairs back at Pearl, and he didn’t want to lose a boat for an extended period.

He needed her skipper’s best guess on how close they were to fixing it. Should they press on, or just slap it back together so they could get under way quickly? It would be nice to know just how urgent the crisis was, not that they’d told him.

North Dakota
and
North Carolina
were in the best shape, although both had people off the boat for leave and training. He could send those two out by tomorrow, if the need was pressing.

The car was waiting for him in the cool darkness. In spite of the hour, it was still a little muggy. Early spring in Guam meant afternoon temperatures in the eighties.

The drive to squadron headquarters gave him time to ask himself the real question. What was the crisis? Where were his boats needed? What was the timeline?

Operations had returned to almost peacetime levels following the Littoral Alliance war. To his knowledge, the region was quiet. Were the Chinese out for revenge? A land attack mission might require his subs to carry Tomahawk missiles. Those had to be prepped and loaded in port. The CNO knew that, of course, and would give him as much warning as security allowed.

Simonis and the Navy lived and breathed security and classification. The fleet had secrets that had to be protected. He understood that. But at times like this, an unspecified contingency limited his boats’ ability to prepare for what could be a life-or-death situation.

He remembered Commander Mitchell, and the man’s personal connection to the national security advisor. If Simonis asked him to, Mitchell could send a query to Washington. It was all back-channel stuff, and frankly distasteful, but the squadron commander balanced his need for information against the gravity of the offense: bypassing the chain of command.

By the time the car had arrived at squadron headquarters, he’d decided against using Mitchell to send a message—for the moment.

6 April 2017

2000 Local Time

Central Bureau of Investigation, Hyderabad Zone Office

Hyderabad, India

“I have just a few more questions about your timeline, Mr. Petrov.”

“That’s
Captain
Petrov, and you said we were finished working on that.”

Agent Sushma Goyal was apologetic, but insistent. “I thought so, too, until I sent it to our headquarters in New Delhi. Special Director Thapar wanted to know more about your visit to the torpedo shop, and about the other Russian nationals you interviewed while you were attempting to gather more information on Mr. Orlav. He’s especially interested in a Mr. Anton Kulik. Do you have any more information on him, and his interest in Indian nuclear weapons?”

While Petrov argued with Goyal, Samant stood and paced around the conference room, trying to walk off the frustration he felt. He’d watched the leaders of the Indian government receive the news that a conspiracy within the government and the navy was about to launch an attack on China that would likely trigger a nuclear war. They had photographic evidence of bootleg nuclear weapons present at the Vizag naval base, about to be loaded on a nuclear submarine. At the end of the teleconference, they’d heard President Handa assure President Myles and Ambassador Eldridge that CBI would take swift action to arrest the conspirators and confirm their control of
Chakra
.

After they broke the connection, Petrov and Samant had almost collapsed with exhaustion. More treatment for Petrov’s injuries had been followed by an early meal and bed, Samant feeling completely safe for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long.

Neither slept well. Petrov couldn’t find a comfortable position, and Samant’s dreams were troubled, full of him pleading to Gautama on the lake for wisdom or enlightenment, but always finding the statue of Buddha out of reach, facing away from him.

Shereen Massoud had awakened them at seven
A.M.
, but she had no knowledge of events at the Vizag dockyard. Consul General Olson had joined them at breakfast, and informed them, with some puzzlement, that as far as he knew, no arrests had been made, and nothing had been done about
Chakra
. However, a CBI car was due to arrive at 0830 to pick them up. The local zone office wanted more details about Dhankhar and his associates, to help speed the investigation.

“They can come here,” Petrov had insisted.

“It’s to be a short meeting, and then they’ll take you to the airport to get you back to Vizag. So, it does make some sense for them to come get you. However, even though we are a bit shorthanded,” Olson replied, “I can spare a Marine to accompany you as your bodyguard should there be any trouble.”

“You mean, if they try to arrest us,” Samant added.

Olson shook his head sharply. “No. The head of the CBI told me personally this morning that all charges have been dropped. The Marine is going along just in case one of the conspirators tries something. CBI has even granted permission for him to be armed—that is extraordinarily unusual, gentlemen.”

Petrov slumped. “I’d hoped we were done with that possibility.”

“We will be, once the CBI rounds them up, which is why we need you to go over there and answer their questions. Now, neither of you are U.S. citizens, and I can’t force you to go, but we’d be grateful if you did, and we’ll do our best to protect you while you’re doing it.”

*   *   *

Olson had made a good case, and they’d agreed to go. The car had picked them up promptly. An officious but polite Agent Goyal and two husky-looking agents loaded Petrov, Samant, and a Marine corporal in civilian clothes named Matthews quickly into an SUV and headed to the Hyderabad Zone headquarters, in charge not just of Hyderabad, but the states of Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka.

Goyal’s boss had met them, showed the three to a well-appointed conference room, offered them tea, and then left “to coordinate the investigation.”

For the rest of the morning, Goyal and other agents had thoroughly debriefed the two submariners, with every answer written down, correlated, and examined for inconsistencies or inaccuracies. Repeated questions from the two about the status of
Chakra
and the conspirators were always met with the same answer: “It is all under control; everything is being done properly.” Neither Petrov nor Samant was reassured.

They broke for lunch, which was too spicy for Petrov, but while they were eating, Agent Goyal’s boss, Joint Director Chaudhari, returned. “I understand you’ve been asking about the status of the submarine and Vice Admiral Dhankhar. I want to reassure you that we are moving with all possible speed to regain control of
Chakra
and apprehend the conspirators.”

“Why the delay?” asked Petrov bluntly. “It should have happened this morning, or even last night.”

Chaudhari disagreed. “True, there is a MARCOS unit stationed at the Vizag naval base.” Samant was nodding agreement, and the joint director explained to Petrov, “It stands for Marine Commandos, like the Russian Spetsnaz troops or American SEALs. They could certainly perform the task, but given the concerns about the extent of the conspiracy, we were worried that using them would alert our targets. Special Director Thapar thought it best to use a unit that we could be virtually certain was reliable—not from this region, and not from the navy. An air force Garud commando unit is en route from Jodhpur. The Garud force is responsible for airbase security, and have extensive anti-terrorism training.”

Samant exploded. “That’s in Rajasthan, the other side of the country! Surely there was something closer.”

“Special Director Thapar made the selection, based on the unit’s readiness level,” the joint director replied testily.

“And we’re supposed to be there to provide technical support when the commandos take control of the submarine,” Petrov added. “Why are we still here when you finished your questions this morning?”

“Relax,” Chaudhari soothed. “An army helicopter is waiting to take you straight to Vizag as soon as we are finished here. It’s a two-hour flight, but there’s no rush. The Garud force isn’t scheduled to land until almost midnight. They’ll begin preparations immediately, and we’ll execute the raid at four or five o’clock tomorrow morning. We can get things tidied up here and then we will all go to the Visakhapatnam naval base together. I understand Consul General Olson himself will go with us, as an observer.”

“But you’ve got Dhankhar identified as the leader, and Orlav as the technician. Just arrest those two. Without them, the plan falls apart.”

Goyal shook his head, smiling, almost patronizing. “Their plan has already failed. That sub will never leave the pier. What we have to do now is arrest not just the leader and his henchman, but all the supporters of this conspiracy as well. We are watching the admiral and closely monitoring his communications. That will lead us to the other plotters. And we have eyes on the torpedo shop.

“Special Director Thapar has put some of his best men into the yard. They are watching everything. They report furious activity, but that the submarine won’t be ready to sail until tomorrow morning, which matches your information, I might add.”

“What if…” Petrov began, but Goyal interrupted him. “We also have people watching all the exits of the shipyard, and Dhankhar’s house as well. There’s a tracker on his car, and we’ve flagged his bank accounts and credit cards. He’s helping us more by being temporarily free than if he was behind bars.”

*   *   *

They’d started again after lunch, this time using the information from Petrov and Samant to construct a timeline of their own actions, and what they could reconstruct of the plot. “This will help us in our interrogation of the suspects, as well as suggesting places and times to concentrate our efforts.”

Petrov kept glancing at his watch and mentally adding two hours to it. Samant seemed mesmerized by the wall clock. Corporal Matthews used his cell phone to make periodic reports to the consulate. He stayed in the room with his two charges, but well in the background.

Dinnertime came, and after another meal Goyal’s questions about the timeline continued, fueled by a stream of messages from New Delhi. How were the two able to evade shipyard security?

Then they received a question from the captain leading the Garud detachment. How stable were the nuclear devices? Could the torpedoes be rigged with a suicide switch? After the bombs were secured, how should they be handled?

Those were really the kind of questions Orlav was qualified to answer, but Petrov did his best. No Indian nuclear expert could be contacted, Goyal explained, until after they’d been cleared of involvement in the plot. That might not be in time for the raid tomorrow morning.

Petrov began drawing up a checklist, based on what safety regulations he could remember from his own days in the navy. They were Russian weapons, after all. He still kept one eye on the clock. Earlier in the day, there had been talk of a nap for the still-fatigued pair before the flight to Vizag. That had been reduced to sleeping aboard the helicopter, and now that might have to be deferred if he couldn’t finish the procedures …

*   *   *

The door burst open, surprising them all. Matthews, half dozing in the corner, was suddenly on his feet, weapon out in a shooter’s stance. He quickly pointed the weapon up, though, when the first person through the door was a civilian, and unarmed.

Goyal leapt to his feet. “Director Kumar!” Surprise filled his exclamation, and he started to ask a question, but stopped, frozen in shock when President Handa followed the director into the room. Others, including Chaudhari, followed Handa into the room.

Matthews’s weapon was out of sight even more quickly than he’d drawn it, and the Marine had braced. Even Petrov had joined Samant in coming to attention. Handa nodded to them all, and motioned for them to relax.

Ignoring Goyal, the president walked over to Samant and offered his hand. “Captain Girish Samant, I wish to thank you personally for your courage and loyalty. You’ve already done our country a great service, and may have saved India from a horrible fate.” After shaking hands with Samant, he turned to Petrov. “India is also grateful to you, Captain Petrov. How are your injuries?”

The Russian shrugged automatically, then winced. “I’m sorry, sir, but they’re only a nuisance.”

Shaking Petrov’s hand, the president answered, “You risked your life in the service of my country. There will always be a place for you here in India.” He looked over to Kumar and nodded.