“Dobiesz, you misbegotten Cossack idiot!” Durov growled back. “Was your mother a jackass? That is the only way to explain how any man could be so stupid as you! When I said five days, what part did you not understand? Can you not count to five?”

Dobiesz tried to break into the tirade before it got out of hand. His words now carried a distinct air of desperation. “Admiral, you must understand, the loading takes time. The missiles must be tested. The systems must be—”

Durov was in no mood to hear excuses. “I do not care about tests and checks. Those subs, all of them, will be ready to sail on command in five days. Do you hear me? Five days! If they are not, Siberia will be warm compared to where you will spend the rest of your days.”

“Yes, Admiral,” the shaken captain replied meekly. “It will be as you order.”

Durov slammed down the phone. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. His old heart wasn’t what it used to be. When he had been younger, an incompetent like Dobiesz would have evacuated himself at the mere sound of the admiral’s voice raised in anger. Now the major effect of his having to make a forceful point with an incompetent underling was to leave his own heart racing and him gasping for breath.

Durov poured a healthy shot of vodka into the crystal goblet sitting on his desk. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small bottle of pills. Extracting one of the tiny blue capsules, he popped it into his mouth and took a heavy gulp of the fiery, clear liquid. His breath returned and his pulse settled back to its normal beat. He tugged a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead, the phlegm from his lips.

Satisfied he was once again in control of his breathing, he grabbed the phone and dialed a well-remembered number.

“Yes, Admiral? What do you need?” Boris Medikov answered, his voice hollow on the phone line all the way from Moscow.

“Boris, we are on schedule here. Every boat will be ready to sail in five days. We still have not heard from Volk. We have to assume that the action with Gepard was successful since she has not reported in, either. Serebnitskiv may be delayed for any number of reasons, but we just do not know what is happening.”

Durov swallowed hard when he finished his report. The lack of word from his nephew was troubling. The suspicion was strong that Andropoyov might have somehow been able to fire back, to take out his own stalker before going down. Both boats would be lost, but that was acceptable. Maybe it was even better in the grand scheme of things.