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He felt his heart leap as into his circle of vision the silhouettes of two aircraft parted the sea smoke, two sleek Soviet bombers end-on, growing larger with every second. They were low, clipping the ice, and streaking towards the half-dived submarine.

'Action stations, action stations,' the captain shouted from his periscope. 'Shut all bulkhead doors.'

Glued to the eyepieces, he watched them, less than a mile now, one a few feet higher and to the side of the other. In the lower half of his lens, the dark mass of Safari's half-submerged hull was still looming above the surface. Two wisps of smoke spurted from beneath the wings of the first aircraft: then two more, from the other.

'Down periscope,' Coombes blurted. 'Blinder bombers. They've fired their rockets. Hold on!' 'All hatches dry, sir,' the sec reported, calmly continuing the drill. 'Lower lid shut and clipped.'

'Forty feet, sir,' Bull Clint shouted. 'Two down.'

'Six down — ' But as Coombes spoke the rockets struck, blasting two holes through the pressure hull in the for'd escape compartment.

Seconds later Safari was hurtling down, her fore-ends flooded, at a thirty-degree bow-down angle. She struck the bottom at 0406, in a depth of 297 feet. She hung for a moment, her stern slowly subsiding; she settled then, almost level, crippled in the mud of the sea bed.

As Coombes picked himself up from the deck of the control-room, the intercom snicked above his head:

'Control — manoeuvring.'

He stagged towards the mike: 'Control.'

'Hull valve's just holding. We're okay back-aft.' Coombes could hear Gunn gasping as he fought for breath. 'I may have to scram, sir.'

Coombes was reeling, shocked by the suddenness of disaster.

'All compartments make your reports,' he commanded, searching for words. 'Starting from for'd.'

He was swaying on his feet, holding on to the periscope rods, as the control-room crew struggled back to their stations.

There was no reply from the for'd escape compartment, the JRS' accommodation space or fridge spaces: the whole of the fore-ends for'd of the main bulkhead was flooded. If the reactor was scrammed the submarine would lose all power.

'Oh God,' Coombes muttered to himself. 'I must have time to think or we're buggered.'

Chapter 29

USS Carl Vinson, 18 May.

It was 2105 when Carl Vinson turned the corner fifteen miles north of Phippsoya, the diminutive and most northerly of the outlying islets protecting Spitzbergen. Vice-Admiral Jessup stood sheltering on the leeward side of his bridge where, even in this giant ship, he was forced to flex his knees as the great carrier pounded east at full speed into the worsening gale. Constitution,

five miles on Carl Vinson's port quarter, was barely visible, shrouded by the icy spray. Both carriers' escorts, the DDGS, were pin-points astern of them on the western horizon, unable to keep up in this appalling weather. He felt the judder of the ship as she splunged again into the long, ice-green swell. Peering upwards at Old Glory flapping itself to tatters, he relinquished the lip of his bridge, then staggered through the screen door and into the warmth of the carrier's citadel. Unzipping his wind-cheater, he hurried down to the anti-submarine control centre where he plumped into his chair in front of the admiral's display. The glowing PPI screen was slowly presenting a logical picture. Jessup took the Proceedings State which his flag-lieutenant was holding towards him.

'Thanks, Dan,' Jessup said. Methodically he perused the day's happenings. Goddamit, had it all started only twenty-one hours ago? First there had been Safari's flash report:

DTG: 180106 (ZULU) MAY TYPHOON SUNK 81°15′ NORTH 38°54′ EAST DEPTH 960 FEET. MESSAGE ENDS.

The Limeys had done it at last — and thank God for that, thought Jessup. sow had succeeded, as far as Nato was concerned, though it was too early to know whether the superpowers were stepping back from the brink. The world was holding its breath while the Kremlin deliberated. But Safari's next signal had deflated the earlier exhilaration.

DTG: 180131 (ZULU) MAY AMPLIFYING SITREP. WATERTIGHT INTEGRITY AFFECTED BY ACTION WITH TYPHOON. PROCEEDING SURFACED COURSE 216° SPEED 10 TO CLOSE SHALLOWS NORTH-EAST NORDAUSTLAND. INTEND REPORTING ON THE HOUR. MY POSITION 8l° 12' NORTH 38°40′ EAST. MESSAGE ENDS.

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