Three hundred feet below the icy surface of the fjord, the MOSS called up one of its special tricks. The transducer trailing behind the little vehicle and another one in the main body picked up the incoming active ping, processed it, and sent back a sonar return that precisely matched a return from Toledo that showed her trying to sneak away.

With the magic of electronics, the tiny MOSS looked just like the massive submarine. There was no way for the Russian sonar operator to know any differently. He disregarded the large jagged return from the noisemakers. Instead, he concentrated on the sharp return he was seeing from a submarine moving away from all the clutter.

“Got him!” the Russian said out loud.

The American was as good as dead. The operator sent the return to the fire control system. It automatically calculated the speed, course, and range of the submarine and fed the information into the SS-N-15 system. The antisubmarine missile system calculated the trajectory for the missiles to land close to the escaping sub. Too close for it to get away.

The doors flew up from missile launchers tucked under both bridge wings on the Russian destroyer. A missile from each side brilliantly lit up the night as they roared out of their launch tubes and raced into the sky. Seconds after the first two were airborne, two more missiles flew into the black night. The flights were short, lasting less than four seconds while covering some five thousand meters. When each missile was over the sub’s expected position, the aerodynamic nose cone fell away and the torpedo payload parachuted down. The four torpedoes splashed down around the escaping “submarine,” the first directly astern, the next ahead, and the last ones on either side.

The four torpedoes each started a slow spiral search as they sank into the depths, pinging and listening for their quarry. The sonar returns satisfied the logic circuits on the torpedoes. The four raced in to detonate near enough to their target and more than powerful enough to gouge gaping holes in its pressure hull.

The only damage done was to the mobile submarine simulator. The mangled remains of the MOSS sank to the bottom of the Murmansk Fjord.

Its signal was forever silenced, but it had done its job well.

Brian Edwards watched the scene play out on the sonar screen. He shook his head from side to side. “Skipper, I figured we were dead. That was brilliant.”

Zillich stuck his head out of the sonar room. “Screw blade from the Udaloy. He’s cavitating like a big dog. Real anxious to get someplace in a hurry.”

“Good riddance,” Glass said. “Now I think we’ll stay right here and wait a bit. That guy upstairs is running over to investigate what he hit. It’ll take him a while to figure out that he’s been suckered. He’ll be hoppin’ mad. It’s best we be gone by then.”