The Hunt for Red October - Tom Clancy [63]
"Josh, Ryan here's the guy who did the report last June on Soviet missile-sub patrol patterns."
"Oh? That was a nice piece of work. It confirmed something I've been saying for two or three years." Painter rose and walked to the corner to look out at the stormy sea. "So, what are we supposed to do about all this?"
"The exact details of the operation have not been determined. What I expect is that you will be directed to locate Red October and attempt to establish communications with her skipper. After that? We'll have to figure a way to get her to a safe place. You see, the president doesn't think we'll be able to hold onto her once we get her—if we get her."
"What?" Painter spun around and spoke a tenth of a second before Davenport did. Ryan explained for several minutes.
"Dear God above! You give me one impossible task, then you tell me that if we succeed in it, we gotta give the goddamned thing back to them!"
"Admiral, my recommendation—the president asked me for one—was that we keep the submarine. For what it's worth, the Joint Chiefs are on your side, too, along with the CIA. As it is, though, if the crewmen want to go back home, we have to send them back, and then the Soviets will know we have the boat for sure. As a practical matter, I can see the other side's point. The vessel is worth a pile of money, and it is their property. And how would we hide a 30,000-ton submarine?"
"You hide a submarine by sinking it," Painter said angrily. "They're designed to do that, you know. 'Their property!' We're not talking about a damned passenger liner. That's something designed to kill people—our people!"
"Admiral, I am on your side," Ryan said quietly. "Sir, you said we've given you an impossible task, Why?"
"Ryan, finding a boomer that does not want to be found is not the easiest thing in the world. We practice against our own. We damned near always fail, and you say this one's already passed all the northeast SOSUS lines. The Atlantic's a rather large ocean, and a missile sub's noise footprint is very small."
"Yes, sir." Ryan noted to himself that he might have been overly optimistic about their chances for success.
"What sort of shape are you in, Josh?" Davenport asked.
"Pretty good, really. The exercise we just ran, NIFTY DOLPHIN, worked out all right. Our part of it," Painter corrected himself. "Dallas raised some hell on the other side. My ASW crews are functioning very well. What sort of help are we getting?"
"When I left the Pentagon, the CNO was checking the availability of P-3s out on the Pacific, so you'll probably be seeing more of those. Everything that'll move is putting to sea. You're the only carrier, so you've got overall tactical command, right? Come on, Josh, you're our best ASW operator."
Painter poured some coffee for himself. "Okay, we have one carrier deck. America and Nimitz are still a good week away. Ryan, you said you're flying out to Invincible. We get her, too, right?"
"The president was working on that. Want her?"
"Sure. Admiral White has a good nose for ASW, and his boys really lucked out during DOLPHIN. They killed two of our attack boats, and Vince Gallery was some kind of pissed about that. Luck's a big part of this game. That would give us two decks instead of one. I wonder if we can get some more S-3s?" Painter referred to the Lockheed Vikings, carrier-borne antisubmarine aircraft.
"Why?" Davenport asked.
"I can transfer my F-18s to shore, and that'll give us room for twenty more Vikings. I don't like losing the striking power, but what we're going to need is more ASW muscle. That means more S-3s. Jack, you know that if you're wrong, that Russkie surface force is going to be a handful to deal with. You know how many surface-to-surface missiles they're packing?"
"No, sir." Ryan was certain it was too many.
"We're one carrier, and that makes us their primary target. If they start shooting at us, it'll get awful lonesome—then it'll get awful exciting." The phone rang. "Painter