Chapter 15 – Friday, May 21st
K-335 Gepard
The humpbacked silhouette slipped gently under the waves, foam boiling briefly around the submarine as the air swept up out of the ballast tanks. Despite the occasional gentle groan of protest from the hull, there was no sign of apprehension on the faces in the control room: familiarity had helped the crew overcome their initial fears and now they treated such sounds, if not with contempt, then with scant respect.
For Valeri Karenin, the Gepard’s captain, the condensed environment aboard the submarine was little different to his cramped apartment in St. Petersburg, and at least the Gepard’s well-ordered world was immune to the trivia and irrelevance of city life. Anna had never understood why her husband was willing to give up so much, and she hated the weeks apart, having to take sole responsibility for every decision while learning how to be both mother and father to Mikhail and little Daria. The Gepard’s isolation had begun to represent more than just a physical barrier between them, and each separation merely widened the cracks in an already rocky marriage.
Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, much of Russia’s navy had been left to rot. The Gepard had been relatively lucky, not scrapped or sold, the boat’s commissioning merely delayed, eventually joining the Northern Fleet in 2001. Known by NATO as an Akula (shark) fast-attack submarine, NATO’s name had far more charisma than Russia’s choice of Schuka-B, or pike, despite the latter’s aggressive tendencies. The submarine was now rather past its prime but given a second life with the Baltic Fleet, the Baltic Sea a familiar haven from the Gepard’s original sea trials. Nuclear-powered, double hull, anechoic coating and advanced noise reduction – like its namesake the cheetah, the Gepard was still well able to match speed and stealth with aggression when needed. Armed with multi-purpose torpedoes, missiles and mines, Karenin truly believed the Gepard remained a potent hunter-killer, and only slightly inferior to the latest American Virginia-class and British Astute-class attack submarines.
The nature of the Baltic Sea meant that any confrontation would be a claustrophobic affair, more so with warships presently cruising just a few kilometres apart. Average width 200 kilometres, average depth just 55 metres, nine countries sharing its coastline – the Baltic was more the preserve of the smaller diesel-electric Kilo-class. The Gepard needed space to hide, space to creep up on its prey, certainly not the restraints of territorial waters, numerous islands, complex currents and restricted depth. With the Baltic Fleet’s ageing ships and relative lack of resources, the Gepard’s transfer was purely a consequence of political necessity, and Karenin viewed the redeployment more as a challenge than taking it as some sort of demotion.
While not specifically regretting the demise of communism, Karenin had little faith in Russia’s latest attempt at democracy, and the Government was in grave danger of throwing away the hard-won successes from the Putin era. The prejudices of a lifetime were difficult to ignore and for Karenin the greatest danger to Russia was still the misplaced arrogance of the United States. Superior weapons, superior technology, superior ships – these were advantages Karenin was keen to dispute, and with the Gepard, he might possibly have the means.
Their present patrol area was to the north-east of Poland, and for several hours the Gepard cruised slowly from west to east, picking out a merchant vessel to track, before Karenin carried out yet another practise attack drill. The boat kept well clear of any NATO ships, if necessary Karenin taking the Gepard deep to sit silent and immobile whilst the warship passed.
The regular midday meeting of the senior officers was an event Karenin often cancelled, preferring a more personal and relaxed approach to the everyday running of the boat. Today was different, Karenin knowing that a formal briefing was a better way to gauge his officers’ enthusiasm as to their new orders.
The others were already seated in the senior wardroom, and Karenin paused only to collect a mug of strong sweet tea before sitting down at the head of the table. With just the five most senior officers present there was enough space for him to be able to stretch out his legs – the fact he didn’t was almost a signal as to the gravity of the occasion.
The others waited expectantly for the Captain to speak, all eyes watching him as he sipped the steaming drink. Finally, Karenin rested the mug on the table-top and met their gaze.
“I have been ordered,” he reported, “to brief you fully on the present situation in Russia and the Baltic, so that we all understand how crucial the next few days will be. Moscow is close to complete chaos, communications disrupted, banking systems frozen, stock market closed, airports, train and metro stations shut down, fuel and food shortages, wildcat strikes... Overnight there were more clashes between rival groups and police; hundreds of protestors have been arrested, but thousands more are still out on the streets. The official number of those killed in the last twenty-four hours is put at ninety-eight, including twenty-one from the security forces.”
Karenin paused, giving the others a chance to absorb what he had said. “In terms of Poland, the United Nations Security Council is still trying to hammer out a suitable and permanent compromise; however, NATO seems to have finally lost patience. They have effectively given Russia an ultimatum – withdraw and end the blockade, or face attack. In practical terms, from 1200 Zulu on Saturday, NATO will abandon the agreed inspection system and offer to escort merchant ships into the ports of Gdansk and Gdynia. Any Russian ships hindering the ‘rightful’ progress of such vessels will be subject to attack, and if necessary sunk.
“Our new patrol area will be to the east of Gdansk, our new orders directing the Gepard to assist the surface ships presently enforcing the blockade. Specifically, if any of our ships are attacked or unable to prevent a foreign vessel from breaching the exclusion zone, then the Gepard is authorised to use all possible means to defend our comrades and halt any such incursion.”
Karenin sipped his tea in silence, noting with interest that only the Gepard’s elderly Chief Engineer seemed unmoved by NATO’s threats. If it came to a fight, the Gepard lacked the guile for gentle persuasion – a killing blow was all the submarine was designed to deliver.
Graythorp, England
The large wall monitor showed scenes from various news channels, while the touch-screen table was split between differing data streams and updated projections as to future outcomes. Nothing was certain, but Rebane and his team of experts had developed a feel as to how Russia would react. Carter’s simulations were always a useful starting point, but of more importance was the wealth of data that was constantly being fed to Erdenheim. Real-time satellite imagery; public and private CCTV networks; phone, email and internet protocol interceptions; social-networking sites; police and internal security reports; its own agents still spreading their poison on the streets of Moscow – August 14 used whatever resources it could to keep abreast of events in Russia and elsewhere.
It was far too much data for one person, or even a team of a hundred to absorb, and Carter’s computer expertise was once again put to good use. Tested and refined over some six months, the bespoke software analysed, filtered and prioritised, producing a manageable set of data for Rebane and his present team of nine to work with. Now, with wisdom born of experience, they could assess and react to Russia’s actions almost as they happened.
With months to plan and prepare, Erdenheim had the time to search out which of Moscow’s infrastructure systems and large businesses were susceptible to being hacked. Carter and his army of computer allies – some human, the overwhelming majority innocent computers infected by a zombie virus and hundreds or even thousands of miles away – were able to disable their chosen targets almost at will. Russia’s security analysts were having to do catch-up, blocking one attack only to be met by another. The smart-mob incidents were almost entirely orchestrated by Erdenheim, Rebane managing to either divert police resources elsewhere or create false reports. Through denial-of-service attacks, certain banks and other financial institutions had had thei
r systems temporarily frozen, and a good proportion of Moscow’s citizens were now unable to access their money, or even be paid. Their only option was to return to a cash-only environment, but cash too was in short supply. A dramatic run on the Rouble was also threatening to add rampant inflation to the long list of Russia’s woes.
Erdenheim still had a few more cards left to play, the pressure on Russia inexorable, ultimately revealing the many divisions that would split the Federation apart. The final wave of agents from Poland and Lithuania had been due to arrive in Russia in the next week, and while their future absence was a significant setback, August 14’s earlier successes had been far more effective than anticipated, thus ensuring they were well ahead of schedule. The remaining resources were badly stretched, but secessionist elements were finally readying themselves to join with August 14.
Rebane stood beside the touch-screen table and stared down at the latest analysis, worrying that his timing as to the next attack would have to be based purely on intuition rather than logic. The others would offer their advice, but the decision would have to be his. Still, he was more focused now Anderson was out of the way and, with the notable exception of the naval blockade, Russia’s leaders had reacted much as expected, the complication of NATO now becoming more of an advantage than a concern.
“Upload parameters modified,” Carter announced. “Transmission now staggered over a thirty hour period... Just waiting for your go-ahead, Marty.”
Rebane nodded his understanding, eyes still focused on the pattern of data. Is Russia’s Government fragile enough, he wondered? The military would soon make their move, and Rebane could either accelerate that time, or simply wait for it to happen. His worry as always was the need to maintain the pressure, to ensure that the authorities never knew when or where the next assault would happen, or even from what source. The cyber-attacks had to be constantly re-routed to avoid their origin being traced, but the greater their daily exposure the greater the likelihood Erdenheim would be revealed. In addition encrypted instructions were now being sent direct to August 14’s agents, Moscow’s mobile phone and internet block ensuring the need to use the far riskier landline option.
An expectant hush settled over the computer room, the others readying themselves for the surge of data the next stage would bring. All of them had been involved with Rebane for at least six months, their reputation known by him for far longer. Well over twenty had helped in some way, often as not working from home with just a few days spent at Erdenheim; the majority were American, the rest from Eastern Europe.
The eventual team of nine had been chosen in typical Erdenheim fashion by a dispassionate review of strengths and weaknesses, combined with an analysis of what they could contribute to the team as a whole. Other than Carter, only two had any expertise in programming; the rest had been picked for their understanding of terrorism or civil disobedience. Whilst most were not as anti-Russian as Rebane, each member of his team was committed to the challenge of breaking Russia apart, relishing the once in a lifetime opportunity to put their academic theories into practice. For all of them, monetary reward was of secondary importance, their prime motive entirely one of personal fulfilment, with a totally selfish disregard as to the human cost. In that respect, they were not that dissimilar to Rebane.
Rebane looked across at Carter and gave the briefest of nods. There was really only one way to find out if all this time, effort and money had actually been worthwhile.