The two walked down Tunnel Entrance Street to Fortieth. There, just across the street, was 421 East Fortieth. They could see the building’s large marble lobby through the glass-and-steel entrance. A burly doorman stood just inside the revolving door and a pair of attendants worked behind the service desk next to the bank of elevators. No way to slip past them without being seen.

“Come on,” Vujnovich muttered. “There will be a back way in.”

They headed around the corner and back down Tunnel Entrance. It took a couple of minutes to find the service entrance to the building. A quick twenty to the staffer sneaking a smoke and they were inside. The service elevator was just around the corner. Within seconds, they were on their way up to the thirty-ninth floor.

Captain Second Rank Anatol Vivilav sat in the tiny cabin of his new submarine, sipping a glass of hot, sweet tea. His first officer, Anistov Dmolysti, sat across from him, stirring in another sugar cube. Vipr was heading across the Baltic Sea now that she was safely deep enough that the crowded shipping lanes above were no longer a danger.

“Well, First Officer, we are almost there,” Vivilav said as he watched his friend drop another sugar cube into his tea. “From the looks of your sweet tooth, Admiral Durov is going to need to negotiate another treaty with Comrade Castro when this is over. Just to prevent a sugar shortage.”

Dmolysti smiled. “We all have our vices. I will just be glad when we can go home.”

“We all will, my friend,” Vivilav agreed. “We all will.”

They sipped their tea in silence for a few moments. The two submarine sailors relished this precious quiet time. It allowed them to sit and relax together after the tensions of the past few days and before the excitement of tomorrow.

Vivilav broke the moment. “Anistov, our orders are to commence at first light tomorrow. Have all the missiles and the launch system checked tonight. I do not want any mistakes or malfunctioning equipment in the morning. Our job is much too important to allow that. We are the most crucial part in Admiral Durov’s plan. The future of the Rodina hinges on how well we do our duty tomorrow.”

Dmolysti rose and stood at attention. He saluted smartly. “It shall be as you order, Captain. For the Rodina.”

He turned and stepped out of the stateroom.

Commander Vivilav took another sip of his tea. He did not taste it at all.

Chapter 39

Carl Andretti sank even deeper into an alcohol-shrouded stupor. The worst day of his life was drawing to a close. To make it worse, he had just drained the final precious drops from his last bottle of Dewar’s.