Nichols gave Perkins a broad wink and a spirited high five as they eased closer to the mother ship.

Sergei Andropoyov sat at the reactor compartment door waiting for the Americans’ return. Pishkovski lay on the deck beside him, illuminated by the yellow glow of the American lanterns. They had already determined that they would be the last to go, after all the others had been safely delivered to the rescue submarine. Now they lay there and listened to each other breathe.

They had come through so much together. It was only a matter of waiting a couple of hours until they would be safe on the other sub.

It seemed strange to Andropoyov now that it was over. He would be able to bring some of his crew home to their loved ones after all. He wasn’t sure at that moment where he would find the courage to face the families of the other ones, those who would rest forever here in the cold Arctic waters.

Both men were silent. There was no need for talking now. Each was alone with his thoughts.

Both men realized that they each knew what the other was thinking. Pishkovski broke the quiet.

“Sergeiovich, I don’t understand. Why did they do this to us?”

Andropoyov pondered the question for a long time before he formed an answer. As they had lain here all these days, fighting for every breath, not sure if they would ever feel the embrace of their wives or hear the laughter of their children again, one fact had become clear. Both men had independently come to the same conclusion.

“Dimitriy, I don’t know, but of one thing I am deadly certain. Igor Serebnitskiv did not do this awful thing on his own. He is a proficient sailor, an accomplished submarine commander, but he has no imagination or initiative of his own. No, Admiral Durov is the one behind this. How or why, I do not pretend to know, but he is there.”

“I agree, Sergeiovich. With God’s help, I will one day make him pay. I am not a vengeful man, but when I looked into the faces of these brave men over these last horrible days, when I consider the bodies of those who float still in the wreckage of this fine boat, I have vowed that I will one day make Durov pay for what he has done.”

Pishkovski could see the grim smile on his commander’s face. “As will I, Dimitriy. As will I.”

Chapter 13

Carl Andretti slammed his fist down onto the desk. That government hack bitch!

She had no idea how close she was to stumbling onto the scheme. She had the audacity to stand there in his office and ask him about it! They would have to take care of this problem before she had all the rest of those SEC bastards pissing on their carefully planned parade.