The Hunt for Red October - Tom Clancy [211]
"So." Tupolev leaned against the bulkhead. "Good work, Comrade. Now we must be patient."
The Dallas
Chief Laval pronounced the area clear. The BQQ-5's sensitive receptors revealed nothing, even after the SAPS system had been used. Chambers maneuvered the bow around so that the single ping would go out to the Pogy, which in turn fired off her own ping to the Red October to make sure the signal was received. It was clear for another ten miles. The Pogy moved out at thirty knots, followed by the U.S. Navy's newest boomer.
The V. K. Konovalov
"Two more submarines. One single screw, the other twin screw, I think. Still faint. The single-screw submarine is turning much more rapidly. Do the Americans have twin-screw submarines, Comrade Captain?"
"Yes, I believe so." Tupolev wondered about this. The difference in signature characteristics was not all that pronounced. They'd see in any case. The Konovalov was creeping along at two knots, one hundred fifty meters beneath the surface. Whatever was coming seemed to be coming right for them. Well, he'd teach the imperialists something after all.
The Red October
"Can anybody spell me at the wheel?" Ryan asked.
"Need a stretch?" Mancuso asked, coming over.
"Yeah. I could stand a trip to the head, too. The coffee's about to bust my kidneys."
"I relieve you, sir." The American captain moved into Ryan's seat. Jack headed aft to the nearest head. Two minutes later he was feeling much better. Back in the control room, he did some knee bends to get circulation back in his legs, then looked briefly at the chart. It seemed strange, almost sinister, to see the U.S. coast marked in Russian.
"Thank you, Commander."
"Sure." Mancuso stood.
"It is certain that you are no sailor, Ryan." Ramius had been watching him without a word.
"I have never claimed to be one, Captain," Ryan said agreeably. "How long to Norfolk?"
"Oh, another four hours, tops," Mancuso said. "The idea's to arrive after dark. They have something to get us in unseen, but I don't know what."
"We left the sound in daylight. What if somebody saw us then?" Ryan asked.
"I didn't see anything, but if anybody was there, all he'd have seen was three sub conning towers with no numbers on them." They had left in daylight to take advantage of a "window" in Soviet satellite coverage.
Ryan lit another cigarette. His wife would give him hell for this, but he was tense from being on the submarine. Sitting at the helmsman's station left him with nothing to do but stare at the handful of instruments. The sub was easier to hold level than he had expected, and the only radical turn he had attempted showed how eager the sub was to change course in any direction. Thirty-some-thousand tons of steel, he thought—no wonder.
The Pogy/The Red October
The Pogy stormed past the Dallas at thirty knots and continued for twenty minutes, stopping eleven miles beyond her—and three miles from the Konovalov, whose crew was scarcely breathing now. The Pogy's sonar, though lacking the new BC-10/SAPS signal-processing system, was otherwise state of the art, but it was impossible to hear something that made no noise at all, and the Konovalov was silent.
The Red October passed the Dallas at 1500 hours after receiving the latest all-clear signal. Her crew was tired and looking forward to arriving at Norfolk two hours after sundown. Ryan wondered how quickly he could fly back to London. He was afraid that the CIA would want to debrief him at length. Mancuso and the crewmen of the Dallas wondered if they'd get to see their families. They weren't counting on it.
The V. K. Konovalov
"Whatever it is, it is big, very big, I think. His course will take him within five kilometers of us."
"An Ohio, as Moscow said," Tupolev commented.
"It sounds like a twin-screw submarine, Comrade Captain," the michman said.
"The Ohio has one propeller. You know that."
"Yes, Comrade. In any case, he will be with us in twenty minutes. The other attack submarine