Red storm rising - By Tom Clancy Page 0,242

that news of a possible negotiated settlement would discourage further pressure on the Germans."

"Idiots. This sort of thing tells us what to attack!"

"That is what my father said. He wants your opinion on all this."

"Tell the Minister that I see no indication at all of weakening NATO resolve on the battle line. German morale in particular is still high. They resist everywhere."

"Their government could be doing this without the knowledge of their own army. If they are deceiving their NATO allies, why not their high command also?" Sergetov suggested. After all, it worked that way in his country ...

"A possibility, Ivan Mikhailovich. There is another one, as well." Alekseyev turned back to the papers. "That this is all a sham."

NEW YORK

The briefing was conducted by a captain. As he spoke, the escort commanders and their senior officers leafed through the briefing documents like high school students at a Shakespeare play.

"Outlying sonar pickets will be positioned along the threat axis here." The captain moved his pointer across the viewgraph. The frigates Reuben James and Battleaxe were to be almost thirty miles from the rest of the formation. That put them outside SAM coverage from the other ships. They had their own surface-to-air missiles, but they would be completely on their own. "We will have SURTASS support for most of the trip. The ships are repositioning themselves now. We can expect Soviet submarine and air attacks.

"To deal with the air threat, the carriers Independence and America will be supporting the convoy. The new Aegis cruiser Bunker Hill, as you may have noticed, will be traveling in the convoy. Also, the Air Force will be taking out the Russian radar-ocean-reconnaissance satellite on its next pass, about twelve hundred hours zulu tomorrow."

"All right!" a destroyer captain observed.

"Gentlemen, we are delivering a total load of over two million tons of equipment, plus a complete armored division made up of reserve and National Guard formations. Not counting the materiel reinforcements, this is enough supplies to keep NATO in action for three weeks. This one goes through.

"Any questions? No? Then, good luck."

The theater emptied, the officers filing past the armed guards onto the sunny street.

"Jerry?" Morris said quietly.

"Yes, Captain?" The pilot donned his aviator's sunglasses.

"About last night--"

"Captain, last night we both had too much to drink, and to tell you the truth, I don't remember all that much. Maybe six months from now we can decide what happened. You sleep well?"

"Almost twelve hours. My alarm clock didn't go off."

"Maybe you should get a new one." They walked past the bar both had visited the night before. The captain and the pilot gave it a look, then laughed.

"Once more into the breach, dear friends!" Doug Perrin joined them.

"Just don't give us any of this laying your ship alongside the enemy crap," O'Malley suggested. "That 'away boarders' shit is dangerous."

"Your job to keep the bastards away from us, Jerr-O. Up to it?"

"He'd better be," Morris observed lightly. "I'd hate to think he's all talk!"

"We got a real nice bunch here," the pilot observed angrily. "Jeez, I fly up all on my own, find a damned submarine, give it to Doug here, and do I get any respect?"

"That's the problem with aviators. You don't tell them how great they are every five minutes, they go and get depressed on you," Morris said with a smile. He was a different person from the one who had mumbled through dinner last night. "Anything you need that we might have, Doug?"

"Perhaps we might exchange some foodstuffs?"

"No problem. Send your supply officer over. I'm sure we can negotiate something." Morris checked his watch. "We don't sail for another three hours. Let's have a sandwich and talk over a few things. I got an idea for spoofing those Backfires that I want to try out on you ..."

Three hours later, a pair of Moran harbor tugs eased the frigates away from the pier. Reuben James moved slowly, her turbine engines pushing her through the polluted water at a gentle six knots. O'Malley watched from the right seat of his helicopter, on alert for a possible Russian sub near the entrance to the harbor, though four Orion patrol aircraft were vigorously sanitizing the area. Probably the Victor they had killed two days before had been detailed to trail and report on the convoy, first to direct a Backfire raid, then to close and launch her own attack. The trailer was dead, but that did not mean that the sailing was a secret. New York was a