tc.redstormrising-第139部分

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　bomber　formation。　It　was　both　exciting　and　boring。　He　knew　the　significance　of　what　he　was　doing；　but　the　actual　doing　was　no　more　thrilling　than　driving　a　747　from　New　York　to　L。A。　For　over　an　hour　they　flew；　covering　the　seven　hundred　miles　between　Iceland　and　the　Norwegian　coast。
〃Here's　where　it　gets　cute；〃　the　back…seater　said。　〃Air…search　radar　ahead；　looks　like　Andoya。　Still　over　a　hundred　miles　away；　they'll　probably　have　us　in　two　or　three　minutes。〃
〃That's　nice。〃　Where　there　was　air…search　radar；　there　would　be　fighters。　〃Got　their　position　worked　out？〃
〃Yep。〃
〃Start　transmitting。〃　Winters　turned　the　aircraft　and　headed　back　out　to　sea。
Two　hundred　miles　away；　a　circling　British　Nimrod　receipted　the　signal　and　retransmitted　to　a　munications　satellite。

NORTHWOOD；　ENGLAND
Admiral　Beattie　was　trying　to　remain　calm；　but　it　didn't　e　easily　to　a　man　whose　nerves　had　been　stretched　and　abused　by　crisis　after　crisis　since　the　war　began。　Doolittle　was　his　baby。　For　the　past　two　hours；　he'd　waited　for　word　from　the　Tomcat。　Two　had　returned　without　sighting　the　Russians。　One　had　not。　Was　it　tracking　them　as　planned　or　had　it　merely　fallen　into　the　sea？
The　printer　in　the　corner　of　the　munications　room　began　to　make　the　screening　sound　that　the　Admiral　had　learned　to　hate：　EYEBALLS　REPORTS　HARES　AT　69/20N；　15/45E　AT　1543z　COURSE　021　SPEED　580　KTS　ALT　30。
Beattie　tore　the　page　off　and　handed　it　to　his　air…operations　officer。　〃That　puts　them　on　the　ground　in　thirty…seven　minutes。　Assuming　it's　the　last　group；　and　a　fifteen…minute　spread；　the　first　bombers　will　be　landing　in　twenty…two　minutes。〃
〃Fifteen　minutes　from　now；　then？〃
〃Yes；　Admiral。〃
〃Get　the　order　out！〃
In　thirty　seconds　half　a　dozen　separate　satellite　channels　began　transmitting　the　same　message。

USS　CHICAGO
The　three　American　submarines　had　lain　on　the　bottom　of　the　Barents　Sea　near　the　Russian　coastline…so　near；　it　was　only　one　hundred　seventy…four　feet　of　water…for　what　seemed　like　half　a　lifetime；　before　finally　receiving　the　signal　to　move　south。　McCafferty　smiled　with　relief。　The　three　British　submarines；　including　HMS　Torbay；　had　already　done　their　job。　They　had　sneaked　up　on　a　Russian　frigate　and　four　patrol　boats　patrolling　the　Russian/Norwegian　coastline　and　attacked　with　torpedoes。　The　Russians　could　only　assume　a　major　effort　was　under　way　to　penetrate　their　patrol　barrier；　and　had　sent　their　antisub　patrol　force　west　to　meet　it。
Leaving　the　way　clear　for　USS　Chicago　and　her　mates。　He　hoped。
As　they　closed　in；　his　electronics　technicians　plotted　and　replotted　their　bearings。　They　had　to　be　in　exactly　the　right　place　when　they　fired　their　missiles。
〃How　long　before　we　shoot？〃　the　XO　asked。
〃They'll　let　us　know；〃　McCafferty　said。
And　then；　with　the　chatter　of　the　message　from　Northwood；　they　did　know。
They　would　launch　at　1602　Zulu　Time。
〃Up　scope。〃　McCafferty　spun　the　instrument　around。　A　rainstorm　overhead　drove　four…foot　waves。
〃Looks　clear　to　me；〃　the　XO　said；　watching　the　TV　display。
The　captain　slapped　the　handles　up　on　the　scope。　It　headed　down　into　its　well。　〃ESM？〃
〃Lots　of　radar　stuff；　Cap'n；〃　the　technician　replied。　〃I　show　ten　different　transmitters　in　operation。〃
McCafferty　inspected　the　Tomahawk　weapons　status　board　on　the　starboard　side　of　the　attack　center。　His　torpedo　tubes　were　loaded　with　two　Mark…48s　and　two　Harpoon　missiles。　The　clock　ticked　away　toward　1602。
〃mence　launch　sequence。〃
Toggle　switches　were　thrown；　and　the　weapons　status　lights　blinked　red；　the　captain　and　the　weapons　officer　inserted　their　keys　in　the　panel；　and　turned　them；　the　petty　officer　on　the　weapons　board　turned　the　firing　handle　to　the　left…and　the　arming　process　was　plete。　Forward；　in　the　bow　of　the　submarine；　the　guidance　systems　of　twelve　Tomahawk　cruise　missiles　were　fully　activated。　On…board　puters　were　told　where　their　flight　would　begin。　They　already　knew　where　it　was　supposed　to　end。
〃Initiate　launch；〃　McCafferty　ordered。

Ametist　was　not　part　of　the　regular　Soviet　Navy。　Principally　concerned　with　security　operations；　this　Grisha…class　patrol　frigate　was　manned　by　a　KGB　crew；　and　her　captain　had　spent　the　last　twelve　hours　sprinting　and　drifting；　dipping　his　helicopter…type　sonar　and　listening　in　the　American　fashion　rather　than　the　Russian。　With　her　diesel　engines　shut　down；　she　made　no　noise　at　all；　and　her　short　profile　was　hard　to　spot　from　more　than　a　mile　away。　She　had　not　heard　the　American　submarines　approach。
The　first　Tomahawk　broke　the　surface　of　the　Barents　Sea　at　16：01：58；　two　thousand　yards　from　the　Russian　frigate。　The　lookout　took　a　second　or　two　to　react。　As　he　saw　the　cylindrical　shape　rise　on　its　solid…rocket　booster　and　arc　southwest；　an　icy　lead　ball　materialized　in　his　stomach。
〃Captain！　Missile　launch　to　starboard！〃
The　captain　raced　out　onto　the　bridge　wing　and　looked　on　in　amazement　as　a　second　missile　broke　the　surface；　then　he　leaped　back　into　the　pilothouse。
〃Battle　stations！　Radio　room；　call　Fleet　HQ；　tell　them　enemy　missiles　launching　from　grid　square　451/679…now！　All　ahead　full！　Rudder　right！〃
The　frigate's　diesel　engines　roared　into　life。

〃What　in　hell　is　that？〃　the　sonar　chief　asked。　His　submarine　shuddered　every　four　seconds　with　the　missile　launches；　but…　〃Conn；　sonar；　we　have　a　contact　bearing　zero…nine…eight。　Diesel…surface　ship；　sounds　like　a　Grisha；　and　he's　close；　sir！〃
〃Up　scope！〃　McCafferty　whirled　the　periscope　around　and　snapped　the　handle　to　full　power。　He　saw　the　Russian　frigate　turning　hard。　〃Snap　shot！　Set　it　up！　Surface　target　bearing　zero…nine…seven；　range〃…he　worked　the　stademeter　control…〃one　six　hundred；　course；　shit！　he's　turning　away。　Call　it　zero…nine…zero；　speed　twenty。〃　Too　close　for　a　missile　shot；　they　had　to　engage　with　torpedoes。　〃Down　scope！〃
The　fire…control　man　tapped　the　numbers　into　the　puter。　The　puter　needed　eleven　seconds　to　digest　the　information。　〃Set！　Ready　for　tubes　one　and　three。〃
〃Flooding　tubes；　outer　doors　open…ready！〃　the　XO　said。
〃Match　generated　bearings　and　shoot！〃
〃Fire　one；　fire　three。〃　The　executive　officer　struggled　with　his　emotions　and　won。　Where　had　that　Geisha　e　from？　〃Reload　with　48s！〃
〃Last　bird　away！〃　the　missile　technician　announced。　〃Securing　from　launch。〃
〃Left　full　rudder！''

Ametist　never　saw　the　missiles　launching　behind　her。　The　men　were　too　busy　racing　to　stations；　while　her　captain　rang　up　full　power　and　the　ship's　weapons　officer　ran　up　in　his　shorts　to　work　the　rocket　launchers。　They　didn't　need　sonar　for　this；　they　could　see　all　too　well　where　the　submarine　was…firing　missiles　at　the　Motherland！
〃Fire　when　ready！〃　the　captain　yelled。
The　lieutenant's　thumb　came　down　on　the　firing　key。　Twelve　antisubmarine　rockets　arched　through　the　air。
〃Ametist；〃　the　radio　squawked。　〃Repeat　your　message…what　missiles？　What　kind　of　missiles！〃
Providence　discharged　her　last　missile　just　as　the　frigate　fired　at　her。　The　captain　ordered　flank　speed　and　a　radical　turn　even　as　the　rockets　tipped　over　and　began　to　fall　toward　his　submarine。　They　fell　in　a　wide　circular　pattern　designed　to　cover　the　maximum　possible　area；　two　exploding　within　one　hundred　yards；　close　enough　to　startle　but　not　to　damage。　The　last　one　hit　the　water　directly　over　the　submarine's　sail。　A　second　later；　the　forty…six…pound　warhead　exploded。
Ametist's　captain　ignored　the　radio　while　he　tried　to　decide　if　his　first　salvo　had　hit　the　target　or　not。　The　last　rocket　had　exploded　faster　than　the　others。　He　was　about　to　give　the　order　to　fire　again　when　the　sonar　officer　reported　two　objects　approaching　from　aft；　and　he　shouted　rudder　orders。　The　ship　was　already　at　full　speed　as　the　radio　speaker　continued　to　scream　at　him。

〃Both　fish　have　acquired　the　target！〃
〃Up　scope！〃　McCafferty　let　it　go　all　the　way　up　before　pulling　the　handles　down。　At　full　magnification　the　Grisha　nearly　filled　the　lens；　and　then　both　fish　hit　her　port　side　and　the　thousand…ton　patrol　frigate　disintegrated　before　his　eyes。　He　turned　pletely　around；　sweeping　the　horizon　to　check　for　additional　enemy　ships。　〃Okay；　it's　clear。〃
〃That　won't　last　very　long。　He　was　shooting　at　Providence；　sir。〃
〃Sonar；　what　do　you　have　on　zero…nine…zero？〃　McCafferty　asked。
〃Lotsa　noise　from　the　fis