Just then, a ghostly black shadow blocked some of the light at the end of the pier where they had both been staring just moments before. Martinelli almost missed it but then caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. He was all business. He rolled over and pressed his eye against his sniper scope eyepiece. The green shape of the Akula-class submarine came sharply into focus.

“Hey, Jason. Call home and tell ’em we have another one of the bastards coming out of the barn.”

The other SEAL was already activating his satellite radio.

Chapter 28

Anatol Vivilav watched with great interest as the young michman poked around inside the charred mass of the burned-out switchboard. The diesel had removed most of the smoke, but the acrid smell still hung heavy in the air. It would be a long time before that sickening odor dissipated. The hull insulation and most of the nearby equipment were scorched and darkened by the heat of the conflagration. The bulkheads and overhead were blackened from the smoke.

Vipr had rounded North Cape and was already beginning the long run south, down the Norwegian coast. Even so, they stayed near the surface, snorkeling to clear the smoke from inside the submarine. No effort had been made to repair the damage from the blaze. Heavy pitching and rolling from the winter seas had made any efforts to work futile and dangerous. Instead, the crew could do little more than grab on to any available handhold and wait until Vipr could return to the calm of the deep.

At last, when the air was cleaner, they were able to dive, long hours of agonized motion at an end. Just in time, too. They were now starting the most dangerous part of their journey, out here in the Norwegian Sea where the Americans or British would be most likely to catch them. They had to be alert and ready to fight.

The fire meant they lost half of their seawater cooling pumps, limiting them to half of the reactor’s full power. They had no chance at all of outrunning any pursuers, at least until they could repair the damage. They would have to depend on the old submariner’s two favorite tools: stealth and cunning. Vivilav had already ordered the torpedoes made ready for instant launch in case they had to defend themselves.

As he considered the disarray in his engine room, the captain shook his head in wonder, realizing how close they had come to disaster. But for Dmolysti’s quick thinking and bravery, they might well have lost the Vipr, and their own lives as well, in the inferno.

The michman emerged from inside the switchboard, sweat streaking his face and his cheeks, his arms blackened with soot. He shook his head mournfully.

“I’m sorry, Captain. It is hopeless. The insides are completely consumed, melted copper everywhere. We will not be able to fix it out here.”