Petrov lost no time sending divers down to the container ship. The torpedo blast hole allowed for relatively easy access to the hull, and two nuclear devices were extracted. There were a few dicey moments when currents snagged the lifting line, but they worked on rotating shifts and got the job done in less than twenty-four hours. Petrov ordered the ship to move out and signaled the Americans. The vessels passed within a few hundred yards of each other, going in opposite directions. Petrov stood on the deck and looked through binoculars at the American vessel. Through the lenses, he saw a husky man with gray hair looking back at him. At one point, the American lowered his binoculars and waved. Petrov ignored him.

Their next encounter was not as friendly. A commercial airliner from a third-world nation had been mysteriously shot down in the Persian Gulf. Paranoia was the reigning national psychosis of the Cold War, and for reasons as vague as they were far-fetched, both countries suspected the other of complicity. Again, Petrov and Austin located the plane at the same time. Petrov's ship came close to ramming the American vessel, shearing off at the last second so Austin could see the heavily armed men on deck. Austin called Petrov and warned the Russian to improve his driving or he'd get a traffic ticket. Austin stubbornly refused to move out. An international incident was avoided only when ships from the plane's home nation showed up at the site to claim the jetliner.

As the rival vessels steamed off in opposite directions, Austin radioed a good-bye message.

“So long, Ivan. 'Til we meet again.”

Petrov had a short fuse in his younger days, and this arrogant American was annoying him. “You better hope that won't happen,” he said with chilling directness. “Neither one of us will be happy with the outcome.”

Eight months later, Petrov's prediction came true. During the Cold War, the United States pursued a daring intelligence operation. When the secret was finally unveiled years later, one writer called it Blind Man's Bluff, a dangerous game played by a few intrepid sub commanders and their crews whereby they would bring their subs within a few miles of the Soviet coast to gather intelligence. One scheme involved planting an electronic pod to listen in on underwater communications cables.

In his drab Moscow office, Petrov lit up one of the thin Havana cigars he had made on special order and puffed out a mouthful of smoke. His mind drifted back through the years, and in the purple cloud that swirled in front of him, he saw the morning mists rising off the dark, cold surface of the Barents Sea as his ship cut through the water at full speed.