Hunter Killer - Alex King Series 12 (2021) A BATEMAN (fiction novels to read .TXT) 📖

should still stand,” Admiral Casey argued. “The Russian submarine fired upon them. Multiple times. They were bested, and now they should live or die with the consequences.”

“The operation is still active,” Becker agreed.

Lefkowitz shook his head. “This Russian situation is a gift,” he said. “The world will know that Russia attacked a US submarine on routine patrol in international waters. The US submarine defeated the Russian threat by utilising a non-lethal counterattack, then rescued the Russian crew…”

“But the Russians attacked us, Sir!” Admiral Casey countered belligerently.

“And if our sub leaves and the Russian crew perishes, then we will have committed our own act of war…” Lefkowitz turned to Becker and asked, “What of our agent?”

Becker checked the notes in front of him. “His mission relies upon our submarine. He’s on his own up there and there are hostile forces on location, as well as friendlies.”

“Friendlies?” Lefkowitz frowned.

“There are at least two British agents up there.” Becker paused. “Our asset reports that one is known to us. The MI5 link in the Standing affair…”

“Do you think they can handle it? Tidy up their own mess?”

“They generally tend to get the job done, Sir, yes.”

Lefkowitz nodded, then looked at Admiral Casey and said, “Admiral, with respect, the cat and mouse affair with the Russians has affected our deadline. Our asset is in limbo. But we can come out of this clean and leave the Russians with dirt on their faces. The world will hear about Russia’s aggression, but it will also see that the US showed restraint. Not only bringing superior military tactics to hand, but the merciful action of reacting in a way not learned in The Naval Academy at Annapolis, but by a submarine captain trying to avoid all-out war. This slaps Russia across the face far more than a protracted standoff of firepower and display of military might. And the people left in no doubt of Russia’s part in US vote rigging, leaked documents and communications tampering will see that they are a viable threat. The millennials and post boomers and snowflakes of the world who only get their information from social media need a wake-up call. Perhaps this will be it. Russia has the firepower to blow us off the map, so now they may take the threat seriously.” He paused, reached for the clean handkerchief, and dabbed his brow again. The colour, what little remained, had drained from his cheeks. “Russia will be left knowing it fell short, their tech-laden new submarine was not a match for our own, and the worst of it all is they will have to thank us for saving their crew. Look at the Kursk in two-thousand, and the fiasco of them turning down specialist help from other nations, only to botch the rescue and cost the lives of all one hundred and eighteen souls on board.”

Admiral Casey stared at his hands, looking up slowly. He glanced at Becker, who nodded. “Okay, Director, you make a compelling case.” He paused. “Tell your agent to make alternative travel arrangements.” He stood up and gathered the papers in front of him, packing them into a leather documents case.

“I’ll get word to your asset,” Becker said. “Who is he?”

“He’s my man, Becker…” Lefkowitz coughed several times, covering his mouth with the handkerchief. The nurse stepped around him to offer him some assistance, but was curtly waved away as he said, “I’ll do it…” A good agent was hard to find but keeping one alive required a short chain of command. Lefkowitz had learned this lesson from bitter experience, and even in his twilight tenure of the agency, he would not lengthen the links in the chain at any cost. “Gentlemen, I think we have the result we need. Perhaps not the one we expected or hoped for, but one that will play into our hands all the same.”

Chapter Forty-Two

 

200 miles south of the Polar Icecap,

Barents Sea

 

Commander JT McClure watched the Russian submarine through the array of monitors. The cutting-edge electronic periscope, known as a photonics mast, relayed the vessel in HD, with a monitor using thermal imaging so powerful that the crew were visible inside the metal hulk, brighter shades of orange denoting the clusters of men as they looked to their captain for what they should do next. Another monitor viewed the vessel in x10 magnification and McClure could dial it all the way to x50 if he so wished.

“She’s listing badly, Sir.” Lieutenant-Commander Jacobs paused. “Do we pull alongside and tether to her?”

McClure wanted to help, but he was damned if he would risk the lives of his crew and the seaworthiness of his vessel. If the Russian submarine went down suddenly, it could pull them with her. He checked the distance and their heading and said, “Get some Survival Systems into torpedo tubes one, two, three and four and release when ready.” McClure paused, looking at his commander. “Get an eight-man security crew ready to go top-side. Full armaments.”

Jacobs nodded, “Sir, I understand, but the Russians will have men on deck armed with Kalashnikovs and pistols before we do. Probably a heavy machine gun as well…”

There was a rush of air as the pods containing life-rafts, lifejackets and emergency heat packs and rations were discharged under compressed air at over 500 psi, enough to launch them close to eighty-metres away before they floated to the surface. If McClure’s calculations were correct, as well as some dead reckoning, the pods should open on the surface close enough to the Russian submarine for the deck crew to retrieve with hook lines.

McClure nodded, then said, “Then perhaps they will need a demonstration…”

“The Cyclops?”

“Forbes has reported that the US Navy are developing a high energy laser for our Virginia class boats, maybe the Russians should have a glimpse of the future. They have reported that nothing under the waves