“Two weeks ago, our newest, most powerful, and safest nuclear submarine, the Gepard, left the Polyarnyy Submarine Base, near Murmansk. The Volk, one of our modern Akula-type submarines, accompanied her. Their mission was a routine training and testing mission under the winter ice cap west of Novaya Zemlya. This area is inside the Barents Sea. As you know, this is our historic territorial sea, with our claim to sovereignty well established by historic precedent. Some, and especially the Americans, dispute this, but our claim is certain.”

Smitrov paused and took a sip of water while he waited for all this to sink in. The reporters were now scribbling feverishly. None made a sound. Even the representatives of the American television networks had their heads down, writing away, attempting to capture each word the president uttered.

“When neither of the submarines communicated with Northern Fleet Naval Command at the regular time, we became concerned. In addition to trying to establish communications with the submarines, the experts reviewed the tapes of our undersea sensor system. The tapes show our two submarines innocently maneuvering inside our territorial waters. They also show another submarine, an American Los Angeles class, operating very near our submarines.” Smitrov took another sip of the water. The room was so quiet now he could hear the scratching of the reporters’ pens on their notebooks. “Then we detected a series of loud noises, explosions. After that, the tape is empty. We think the American went quiet and sneaked away.”

Smitrov, a grave expression on his face, gazed out over the crowd with his sad brown eyes. No one was moving now. Even the incessant scribbling had stopped. The reporters were staring at him, their mouths open in shocked disbelief.

He waited just long enough for the implications of what he was saying to sink in, and then he went on, speaking with more heat and conviction than he had ever used before.

“I will leave the interpretation of these sounds to you and to our experts. I know this: Two of our finest submarines and their brave crewmen now lie broken on the bottom of our sea while the American submarine is slinking safely home.”

Smitrov turned to his right and looked toward the tall, white-haired naval officer who had been standing several meters away, at the edge of the brightly lit stage. The Russian president concluded his portion of the briefing.

“I will now turn you over to Admiral Alexander Durov. Admiral Durov is the commander of the Northern Fleet Submarine Force. He will brief you on the details and answer your specific questions. Admiral Durov.”