"So, we have indeed lost our rat pack."  Ramius lifted the phone again.  "Melekhin, you may open the main induction and vent the engine spaces, then start the diesel."  A minute later everyone aboard felt the vibration as the October's massive diesel engine cranked on battery power.  This sucked up all the air from the reactor spaces, replacing it with air drawn through the snorkle and ejecting the "contaminated" air into the sea.

The engine continued to crank two minutes, and throughout the hull men waited for the rumble that would mean the engine had caught and could generate power to run the electric motors.  It didn't catch.  After another thirty seconds the cranking stopped.  The control room phone buzzed.  Ramius lifted it.

"What is wrong with the diesel, Comrade Chief Engineer?" the captain asked sharply.  "I see.  I'll send men back—oh.  Stand by."  Ramius looked around, his mouth a thin, bloodless smile.  The junior engineering officer, Svyadov, was standing at the back of the compartment.  "I need a man who knows diesel engines to help Comrade Melekhin."

"I grew up on a State farm," Bugayev said.  "I started playing with tractor engines as a boy."

"There is an additional problem . . ."

Bugayev nodded knowingly.  "So I gather, Comrade Captain, but we need the diesel, do we not?"

"I will not forget this, Comrade," Ramius said quietly.

"Then you can buy me some rum in Cuba, Comrade."  Bugayev smiled courageously.  "I wish to meet a Cuban comrade, preferably one with long hair."

"May I accompany you, Comrade?"  Svyadov asked anxiously.  He had just been going on watch, approaching the reactor room hatch, when he'd been knocked aside by escaping crewmen.

"Let us assess the nature of the problem first," Bugayev said, looking at Ramius for confirmation.

"Yes, there is plenty of time.  Bugayev, report to me yourself in ten minutes."

"Aye aye, Comrade Captain."

"Svyadov, take charge of the lieutenant's station."  Ramius pointed to the ESM board.  "Use the opportunity to learn some new skills."

The lieutenant did as he was ordered.  The captain seemed very preoccupied.  Svyadov had never seen him like this before.

THE FOURTEENTH DAY

THURSDAY 16, DECEMBER

A Super Stallion

They were traveling at one hundred fifty knots, two thousand feet over the darkened sea. The Super Stallion helicopter was old. Built towards the end of the Vietnam War, she had first seen service clearing mines off Haiphong harbor. That had been her primary duty, pulling a sea sled and acting as a flying minesweeper. Now, the big Sikorski was used for other purposes, mainly long-range heavy-lift missions. The three turbine engines perched atop the fuselage packed a considerable amount of power and could carry a platoon of armed combat troops a great distance.