Captain Vivilav opened the large safe under his desk and removed a rolled-up chart. Stepping over to the small table at the after end of the cramped space, he uncoiled the chart, spread it out smooth, and studied it. A bright red line showed Vivilav the route he was expected to follow. The circuitous course extended due north from the mouth of the Murmansk Fjord well out into the deep waters of the Barents Sea. From there it bent northwest, passing just to the south of Svalbard to stay far away from the listening station at Tromso, Norway. Next, the line headed to the southwest, for Greenland. He was ordered to hug the Greenland coast until he passed south of the secret NATO listening station on Jan Mayen Island. Once the high headland at Unarteg passed abeam, he was to turn south-southeast and make for the Norwegian coast near Bergen, then ultimately into the Baltic Sea.

He scratched his head as he studied the long, curving, red line. Taking a set of navigator’s dividers, Vivilav walked off the distance and calculated the time it would take Vipr to arrive at the mouth of the Baltic Sea. He removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. If he went slowly enough to stay hidden, there was no way the sub would arrive on station on time. If he took this route and went fast enough, he would be detected. Some idiot in Central Submarine Command didn’t understand the complexities of navigating one of these big, new boats.

Vivilav pulled another cigarette from the pack lying on his desk and lit it. He sucked deeply, drawing the acrid smoke into his lungs and holding it before exhaling.

There had to be a way around this. It would take a full day to wind through the tortuous, heavily traveled passage of the Kattegat and the sound between Norway and Zealand. Then two more days to travel the length of the Baltic to get to Patrol Area “Igor.”

There was nothing to be done to shorten that part of the journey. His best option was to try to shave three days off the transit across the Norwegian Sea.

Taking a red pencil, Vivilav drew a line that skirted the Norwegian coast all the way down to the Kattegat. Just have to risk it. No choice. Besides, the NATO sailors listening at monitoring stations were probably sleeping. They believed that all the Russian subs were rusting at the pier these days. There was little other noise for them to listen for except the occasional amorous whale.