End Game: A Derek Riley Novel

By Kyle Hiller

About the Book
A year earlier, Derek Riley, a former special operations Marine, had been working for the Department of Energy. His unique job assignment had him crossing paths with Doctor Susan Parker, an established professor of anthropology for Washington State University. His life was turned upside down when a sadistic government agent gave him an order he could not fulfil. Framed for murder, their lives became thrust together when this unlikely couple were forced to go on the run. Not only was every federal and state law enforcement agency looking for them, but they were also being hunted by a secret group of government assassins.
Having gone into hiding, Derek and Susan nearly disappeared. That is, when one mistake caught up with them. Now, faced with a choice between a lifetime in prison, or working for the same people who had them framed, they have few alternatives. To secure their freedoms, and prevent a world-wide catastrophe, they must risk everything, including each other.
About the Author
Kyle Hiller has been actively involved in the military, law enforcement, special operations, and intelligence communities for forty years. Hiller has traveled to over fifty different countries on five separate continents, mostly in support of government activities. He has fought in two different wars, conducted hostage rescue operations, arrested numerous violent predatory criminals, and worked in a Joint Terrorism Task Force (JTTF), conducting foreign counterintelligence (FCI) and counterterrorism (CT) actions. Hiller has held concurrent Top Secret (SCI, SI, TK, and Gamma) and “Q” level clearances. He currently holds the rank of Colonel and leads a team of specialized instructors tasked with training a highly capable tactical unit. Hiller resides in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Feb 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891270657

Book preview

Prologue

High Jump

Opening the main hatch to the bridge, Rear Admiral Richard Byrd, stepped outside and overlooked the flight deck of the USS Philippine Sea. This Essex-class aircraft carrier was one of the largest and newest in the fleet. It was also the flagship of Task Force 68. They were presently making way through the frigid Atlantic Ocean. He momentarily steadied himself on the cold handrail. The sway and pitch of the vessel in the moderately rough sea made balance difficult to anyone unaccustomed to ocean travel.

Sipping his coffee with his right hand, Richard held the collar of his artic parka closed against the numbing air with his left. This was the same sheepskin jacket he had worn when he was a young Navy pilot. Though it was August, this time of year the sea breeze, generated from the katabatics along the coastline, could still reach temperatures of -22° Fahrenheit. Today it was a balmy 8.

Antarctica only has two seasons, summer, and winter. Unfortunately, because it is located in the southern hemisphere, Antarctica’s summer runs from October through February. Though he argued for delaying Task Force 68’s journey until winter passed, he was overruled. This decision made their journey even more treacherous than it already was.

Just six weeks earlier Richard was asked, rather ordered to the Oval Office. It was his first time meeting President Harry Truman. Taking another sip of his coffee, Richard reflected on that odd, fateful meeting….

Richard! Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, the President said as he rounded the ornately carved Resolute Desk. Smiling, President Truman crossed the floor. Extending his arm, the President vigorously shook Richard’s hand.

It’s my honor, Mr. President, Richard replied, taking note of the two other people gathered in the Oval Office.

Richard, you know Chief of Naval Operations Chester Nimitz, I’m sure? the President said as he gestured for Richard to take a seat on one of the two couches in the office. But have you met Bill Donovan?

Yes, sir, I have, Richard answered. He met Bill a few times during the war. Wild Bill Donovan, as he had been nicknamed, formed the Office of Strategic Services or OSS at the onset of World War II. A month after the war ended, the OSS was absorbed into the Department of State’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research. Though he declined an official appointment, Donovan was still the nation’s top spy.

Well good, the President said as he took a seat opposite Richard. Though Admiral Nimitz sat next to Richard, Donovan remained standing a few feet away.

So, as I explained to you earlier, Mr. President, Admiral Nimitz began, "Richard is the right man to lead this mission. He graduated the Naval Academy in 1912. Was one of our first naval aviators when he underwent flight school in Pensacola in 1917. Was promoted in ’29, becoming one of the youngest admirals in naval history. Richard served in both the Great War and our Second World War. Richard was with me on the Missouri when the Japanese surrendered in ’45. He has been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Navy Cross, and Medal of Honor as well as a plethora of other awards. Most importantly, he has led three previous expeditions to Antarctica."

So, we are speaking with the right person, the President said, clapping his hands together once. As he did, Bill Donovan stepped up taking a position just behind the President’s right shoulder.

Excuse me, but what exactly are ‘we’ speaking about? Richard asked with more than a little apprehension in his voice.

Well, Admiral, Nimitz began, we are sending you back to Antarctica. The preparations have been in the works for the last few months, but we didn’t have the right person to take the helm. Officially, you will be leading an expedition to formally lay a territorial claim. Unofficially— Nimitz was not able to finish his statement as Donovan interrupted him.

Unofficially, this is highly classified, Donovan said, as the spy stepped around the President. This will be called Operation Highjump. You will have thirteen ships, including the aircraft carrier Philippine Sea and USS Mount Olympus, more than three dozen aircraft and roughly 5,000 men assigned to you. Including a large contingent of US Marines.

"That seems a little excessive for a simple territorial claim. Richard stated, speaking what the others in the room already knew. The room remained quiet for several moments before the spy broke the silence.

What can you tell us about the Nazis’ ‘Neuschwabenland’? Donovan asked. Richard felt all eyes fall on him.

I was in Hamburg, in ’38, Richard began after a short pause to recollect. We were not involved in the war with Germany yet. While I was there, Captain Alfred Ritscher, the head of the German team approached me and asked if I wanted to participate in their Antarctic Expedition. From what he explained at the time, is they wanted to establish a permanent research base in Antarctica, which they were calling Neuschwabenland. He knew my history and thought my experience might be helpful, though I believe they had ulterior motives. Regardless, knowing the direction the war was taking, namely that the US would become involved at some point, I declined. Being stuck in Antarctica with a bunch of Nazis didn’t seem like a good idea at the time.

I am sure, the President said thoughtfully.

Neuschwabenland wasn’t just a name of a base or location in Antarctica, Nimitz stated, but was in fact a new national direction. The formation of the so-called Fourth Reich the Nazi party wanted to establish. By late ’42, the Nazi High Command knew the war was lost even if the rest of the world did not. Everything that followed was simply a delaying action on their part while they established a new homeland. In reality, they were putting their resources into two different areas, Argentina in South America, and Antarctica. The Nazis had looted Europe of much of their national treasures, as well as billions in gold and other precious metals. We are still trying to ascertain where it all went. Our intelligence indicates they currently have a well-established colony in Antarctica.

What about Argentina? Richard asked about the other area of interest.

I have one of my best men, working on that, Donovan pronounced. A guy named Philip Baxter. Unfortunately, for us the pressing issue is Antarctica.

How does this even matter? Richard questioned. The Nazis surrendered in ’45 after Hitler killed himself. Surely, any remnants of the Third Reich must no longer exist.

Germany surrendered, Richard, Donovan proclaimed. The Nazis, however, moved to a different hemisphere. As for Hitler. Neither he nor his whore died in that bunker. Those charcoaled remains the Russians retrieved were just smoke and mirrors. Unfortunately, neither we nor the Soviets could afford to let the world know we had lost the greatest mass murderer of our time. So, we allowed the bunker suicide story to stick.

What is it you need from me? Richard sat a little straighter as he looked at the President.

What we need, Admiral Byrd, Nimitz began, is for you to go down there and remove any Nazi presence you find, any way you deem appropriate. Then assume control of the base. The President remained silent. And if you happen to come across that little bastard The Fuhrer, bury him there.

It would be my pleasure, Richard answered with an affirmative nod.

One more thing, the President stated as Richard began to stand. You are a Freemason, are you not, Admiral Byrd? he asked before Admiral Nimitz could say any more.

Yes, Richard answered.

In fact, you became a Master Mason back in ’21 almost thirty years ago, and so undoubtedly, you are aware of some of our more ‘private’ teachings? prompted the President.

Of course, Richard replied, becoming uneasy about this new direction the meeting was taking.

So here is the second part of your mission, Donovan began. For the next twenty minutes Richard listened in awe.

While his cheeks reddened from the arctic air, it was this second part of their meeting Richard now contemplated. Though he was peripherally aware of their existence, he did not truly believe.

As he sipped his coffee, the hatch to the pilothouse opened and Captain Delbert Cornwell stepped outside.

Admiral. We are approaching the coordinates now. We should have a visual of the target within the next few minutes…. Cornwell hesitated.

What is it, Bert? Richard asked, turning towards the naval captain.

Well, sir, Cornwell continued, our reconnaissance aircraft have radioed back. For some reason, it appears as if the Nazi harbor is not frozen over as we had anticipated. Their fleet isn’t beset.

Thank you, Bert, Richard replied. Let’s step inside out of this cold and grab a pair of binoculars.

They turned and Richard followed Cornwell through the hatch.

Admiral on the Bridge! A petty officer inside yelled as Richard stepped through the hatch. Everyone snapped to attention.

Carry on, Richard commanded as he walked over to the officer of the deck. Hand me your binoculars, Richard said.

The officer unslung the Mark-37 binoculars from the lanyard holding them around his neck and handed them to the admiral.

Richard grasped the binoculars in both hands and for several minutes peered at the Antarctic coastline. Then slowly the distinct outlines of a naval base began to take shape. As Task Force 68 grew closer, Richard watched as several ships began to maneuver towards them. Through the 63-power magnification, Richard could clearly identify the Reichskiegsflagge, the flag of the Third Reich flying.

Well, there goes our element of surprise. Captain Cornwell, I believe general quarters would be appropriate, Richard commanded without taking the binoculars away from his eyes.

General quarters! Cornwell announced.

Immediately several things happened. First, a sailor blew his bosun’s whistle into the 1MC, the ship’s intercom. This was followed by the officer of the deck’s urgent announcement.

General quarters! General quarters! All hands, man your battle stations. Set condition ‘Zebra’ throughout the ship! We have inbound hostile surface contacts! Following this announcement a repetitive alarm began sounding over the 1MC.

As the flurry of activity commenced, a petty officer handed Richard a steel, M1 helmet and Kapok Life Vest. Without removing his binoculars, he slipped them on. Casually the admiral addressed Cornwell.

Launch our fighters.

Yes, sir, Cornwell replied.

Signalman, Richard said to the sailor sitting at the mass of radio equipment situated along the starboard side of the bridge. Hail the approaching vessels. Advise them to return to port or they will be sunk.

Aye, sir! the petty officer acknowledged. As Richard repositioned his binoculars, he faintly heard the petty officer on the radio.

"Approaching German vessels. Approaching German vessels. This is the USS warship Philippine Sea …," the sailor continued speaking in the radio.

Richard was suddenly distracted as the ocean between Task Force 68 and the approaching Nazi vessels began to become agitated and foam. Richard refocused his binoculars on the disturbance.

At first, he thought a submarine was surfacing. The intelligence supplied by Bill Donovan and Admiral Nimitz suggested there might be an unseen subbase only accessible by submersion. But as Richard watched the craft breach the freezing water, he realized it was not a German U-boat. Richard became speechless as the circular craft slowly rose in the air until it was hovering more than 100 feet above the Philippine Sea.

Admiral! Cornwell yelled.

Chapter 1

K-129

Before closing the logbook Vladimir reread his entry. It had been nearly eight weeks since they left Petropavlovsk on this rather unusual assignment. They had only just returned to the Rybachiy Naval Base following a seventy-day deployment when Rear Admiral Rudolf Golosov called him into an emergency meeting. It was then he was given the classified orders. Only one other person was present in the room when the very bizarre direction was handed down. Vladimir had never seen this man before. He was tall and thin with impeccably trimmed white hair. Vladimir assumed this stranger was with the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti. But if this man was indeed with the Committee for State Security, he never spoke.

The log entry was dated 8 March 1968. Vladimir was satisfied with the entry. He brilliantly described the crew’s heroic success at finding the entry point. He did not mention what else they discovered. Nor did he discuss his personal feelings about being sent on this mission to begin with. Vladimir knew, as the captain, anything he said or did could be reviewed by Council of People’s Commissars. Any words or actions that painted Brezhnev or the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics in a negative light could land him in a gulag or worse.

As such, like all well-trained military officers, Vladimir learned to keep his opinions to himself, though this was becoming increasingly more difficult. After placing the logbook into his personal safe, Vladimir spun the dial. Standing, Vladimir thought about how he had addressed his crew just before they departed on this secret mission.

Awaiting his arrival, the crew had gathered on the wharf and were standing in formation. Their submarine, the K-129 towering behind them, was moored to the dock. Low hanging clouds had turned the day a light gray. The recent rain, having just ended, left both his men and the pier wet. Seeing their captain approaching, they were called to attention. Walking briskly towards them, Vladimir’s feet splashed through the small puddles that had accumulated along the waterfront. His socks were becoming damp as the water slowly leaked through the seams of his leather shoes.

Many of Vladimir’s more seasoned crew members looked obviously disappointed. Having just returned from deployment, they were expecting to have already been released on some much-needed liberty. But he was more surprised to see almost forty new crew members. He could not understand how the admiral could demand he go on this hazardous mission, then saddle him with a bunch of conscripts. Vladimir knew there was widespread abuse of conscripts throughout the Soviet military. Without any rank to protect them, they frequently would have their pay or food rations confiscated. He even heard of stories where the conscripts were physically, sometimes sexually assaulted. These practices were not allowed under his command. Still, they were going into danger with a crew, half of which were air breathers who had never been inside a submarine before.

Looking up and down the ten separate piers, Vladimir saw three other submarines, one Project 611 and two Project 651 still in port at the Hornet’s Nest. This irritated him immensely and Vladimir wondered why these vessels had not been tasked. Though he knew his opinion on the matter needed to be kept to himself.

Everyone is assembled, Captain, Alexander stated, after giving a crisp salute. Captain Second Rank Alexander M. Zhuravin was the executive officer of the K-129. He had been Vladimir’s executive officer for the last three years.

Men, Vladimir began. He knew the attitude and tone he displayed would set the example for the others as well as the mood for the duration of the cruise. He needed to be positive and upbeat. I know we were all looking forward to a vacation, but our country needs us to go into the fray once more. I realize some of you may be asking why we are not going home, but instead are being redeployed so quickly. It is because not only is the K-129 the finest 629 in the 15th Submarine Squadron, but we have been recognized as the finest crew in the entire Soviet Navy. We have been given an assignment no other crew could complete in defense of our Motherland. For many of you, Vladimir continued, "this will be your first time at sea with me. My expectations are simple. Work hard and protect the honor of the K-129.

Captain Zhuravin, Vladimir stated. He stood at attention until his executive officer stepped in front of him. I want the K-129 resupplied and ready to depart. We have been ordered to set sail at 1900 hours. Once you set the crew to task, I need a working party of four painters.

Aye, Captain, Alexander stated and followed up with a quick salute.

That day on the pier seemed like a lifetime ago. After shutting his cabin door, Vladimir turned and headed for the control room. A few crew members walking through the passageway, stepped to the side, pressing themselves against the bulkhead, allowing room for the captain to pass.

Entering the control room, Vladimir saw Alexander leaning over a metal table that was bolted to the deck. On the table Alexander was looking at a chart while holding a brass divider. The divider’s eight-inch arms were stretched out along the nautical map, as he carefully measured the distance between two points. Also laying on the chart Vladimir saw both a circular protractor and parallel ruler. Vladimir was pleased to see his executive officer was double-checking their already established route.

What is our current course? Vladimir asked.

Sir, our current heading is three-one-seven. Our depth is seven-five. Speed is twelve knots, Alexander stated loudly without hesitation. Then as Vladimir stepped within arm’s reach of Alexander, under his breath so none of the other crew members in the control room could could hear, Alexander said, Vlad, several of the crew have heard what we photographed, through the periscope. There is a concern.

I know, Alex, Vladimir answered in a similar hushed tone. I do not like what we have learned, but the sooner we make distance the better we will be.

Very good, Captain, Vladimir said loud enough for everyone to hear. As usual, do a fifteen-degree correction to the port at the bottom of the hour followed by a fifteen-degree correction back to starboard at the top.

The sonar in the Soviet Navy was not as good as many were led to believe. The sonar on board the K-129, had a blind spot to the direct stern. By making sudden course corrections either to the port or starboard, any American hunter-killer submarines, attempting to come up behind them would be momentarily exposed and detected by their sonar.

I will be in the wardroom if you need me, Vladimir stated. Captain Zhuravin has the con, he added.

I have the con, Alexander repeated the command as Vladimir stepped through the watertight hatch.

Captain First Rank Vladimir I. Kobzar was a rising star in the Soviet Navy. Born in Ukraine in 1930, at thirty-seven he was one of the youngest and most experienced submarine captains in the entire Soviet Fleet. As a child, Vladimir and his family had to flee Ukraine after the Nazi invasion. Nearly seven million other Ukrainians were not so fortunate. Thousands of towns and villages were destroyed and more than ten million were left homeless. After being conscripted, Vladimir’s father was killed during the 900-day siege of Leningrad.

Following the Great Patriotic War, totalitarian controls swept back through western Ukraine. Now the terror was not coming from the Nazis, but instead Stalin’s rule. Soviet authorities reestablished jurisdiction over the recovered territories. The Communist Party entrenched their authority throughout the Soviet Union and the secret police ruthlessly enforced that dominance.

Luckily, for Vladimir he was able to escape much of the hardship. He was allowed to attend Nakhimov Naval School in St. Petersburg, under a special program for sons of military personnel who died in action. He joined the Soviet Navy in 1948. Sixteen years later, Vladimir found himself in command of the K-129.

Unlike American war vessels, the Soviet Navy does not commonly name their ships. Instead, they are merely identified by their hull numbers. Commissioned in 1959, the Project 629A was a diesel-electric submarine. However, Vladimir secretly preferred the designation NATO forces used for his boat, they called it a Golf II-class.

The K-129 was neither the newest or most advanced vessel in the fleet. But it was his. Eight main spaces made up his submarine, these included the control room, the sonar and radio rooms, the torpedo room, the living areas, as well as the auxiliary machinery spaces and battery compartments. The K-129, had a mini-arsenal of weapons. Besides the standard torpedoes, the K-129 was armed with two nuclear torpedoes and three R-21, ballistic nuclear missiles. Of course, NATO had a different designation for these as well, the SSN-5 Serb.

Vladimir did not appreciate having to change the hull numbers and personally thought the admirals reasoning was foolish, but as a career naval professional he followed orders. Admiral Golosov was a firm believer in maskirovka, the art of using deception and trickery to prevent an adversary from discovering Russian intentions. The problem, as Vladimir saw it, many in Moscow spent more time focusing on maskirovka than the actual scope and timing of the mission. Admiral Golosov was one such commander.

The Soviet Navy knew the Americans were fully aware of the hull numbers of every submarine in the 15th Submarine Squadron. They also knew the K-129’s normal patrol area was roughly 2,000 nautical miles north of Hawaii. How Admiral Golosov explained it, since the K-129 needed to surface every few days to recharge the submarines batteries, if during one of their resurfacing operations, they were discovered thousands of miles outside of their normal patrol area, questions would be raised.

However, the admiral again wanted to practice maskirovka. He ordered Vladimir paint over the K-129 with a number not assigned to any other vessel in the fleet. Before leaving Rybachiy Naval Base, Vladimir had the hull number changed to 722 solely for this covert mission.

The wardroom was empty as Vladimir stepped in. Taking a seat at the head of the only table, the galley steward quickly brought the captain a fresh cup of coffee.

Thank you, Pavel. Vladimir stated, using the steward’s first name. He understood, little things such as remembering the names of his enlisted personnel, went a long way to establishing loyalty.

The crew had been worked hard since they first left port. With forty new crew members he needed to be sure they were ready for any eventuality. Every day they ran drills. General quarters, flooding, and fire. If they did well, they did not do another drill until the next day. If they performed poorly, Vladimir and his executive officer would run the drill again and again until they got it right. The young conscripts performed surprisingly well. Vladimir believed this was due to the realization they would not be mistreated under his command.

A skinny man in an ill-fitting uniform entered the wardroom and slid into the chair next to the captain. Just like most of the crew, Vladimir detested this person. Unfortunately, everyone, including Vladimir held some level of trepidation towards what he represented. He was neither a naval officer nor career military man. Instead, he was Communist Party’s political commissar assigned to the K-129. His one responsibility was to ensure everyone remained loyal to the Soviet Union. One word from him and Vladimir or his crew could find themselves imprisoned or worse.

I would say congratulations are in order, Captain, Fyodor Dementyev said.

What we discovered is not a good thing, Fyodor, Vladimir replied. Any wrong response by our government and we could find ourselves involved in a nuclear conflict. That would not do anyone any good.

When they were first sent on this reconnaissance mission, Vladimir thought it was highly unlikely they would find anything. During their meeting, Admiral Golosov, informed Vladimir the Americans developed a secret submarine base alongside the Nazis’s and others. Initially, Vladimir was not sure he believed it. Their mission was broken into two parts. First, they needed to discover an underwater passage which supposedly led to the base. Once they did, the K-129 was to obtain and document incontrovertible proof as to the existence of the base.

Admiral Golosov informed Vladimir, following the Great Patriotic War, the Soviet Union conducted Operation Osoavikhim. The Communist Party secretly abducted more than 2,500 Nazi scientists and put them to work for the Soviet Union. A few years earlier some of these scientists, divulged the information about the secret Nazi base.

"You’re not the first to be sent on this mission captain, the admiral replied when Vladimir asked why Moscow was just getting around to investigating the claim. Hopefully, you will be more successful."

After seeing what the K-129 discovered, Vladimir knew this information could potentially spark a conflict greater than the Caribbean Crisis six years earlier.

This is a great accomplishment for the Motherland, Fyodor announced, smiling.

I am not sure how pulling the Motherland into another world war is a great accomplishment, Vladimir said, measuring his reply. The cold war between Russia and the United States was at an all-time high. Mistrust between both governments was rampant. Any wrong move and they could easily find themselves in a nuclear exchange.

I think you worry too much, Captain. But I guess that is what you are supposed to do. As Fyodor spoke, Vladimir recognized the belittling tone Fyodor was using, as if he were a new conscript and not the captain of a nuclear ballistic submarine.

Our navy has the most advanced weapons systems ever devised, Fyodor announced. These are operated by the greatest military in the world. The Americans would be foolish to think they could stand up to us.

Do not believe your own propaganda, Fyodor, Vladimir countered. The Americans have quite possibly the finest navy this planet has ever seen. I have dealt with them firsthand.

Be careful what you say, Captain. There are those who might hear you and consider your words to be treasonous, Fyodor stated, almost playfully.

Well, luckily, Fyodor, it is just you and I here. So, if anyone is concerned and complains, I know who it is, Vladimir said, using the same playful vocal inflection.

Soviet military doctrine was focused on educating and training their officers to be experts in very narrowly defined military occupational specialties. This differed greatly from the American military model, which wanted generalist, officers with knowledge and training in a variety of career fields. Vladimir also knew the Soviet Union was struggling to keep up with the American military in almost all areas.

Your service-record is very impressive, Captain, Fyodor stated. Submarine Commanders Badge and Medal for Irreproachable Service. Medal of Courage, for I believe personal courage and valor displayed in defending the socialist Motherland. Medal for Combat Merit, for combat action resulting in a military success, and most impressively, Order of the Red Star, for personal courage and bravery in battle. I believe you will probably once again be awarded. Perhaps even the Order of Lenin.

I will be happy if we are able to return home safely, Vladimir countered as he began to recognize the chink in the commissar’s armor. Fyodor was jealous and a little afraid of him. If he only knew the truth.

During the Caribbean Crisis, Vladimir was the executive officer on board the B-59. It was on 27 October 1962, during the American blockade of Cuba, US Destroyers performing anti-submarine warfare, began lobbing PDCs at the B-59. These sounding sonobuoys helped in the triangulation and location of the Soviet submarines stationed around Cuba.

What the Americans did not know was the B-59 was equipped with nuclear torpedoes. Each of these torpedoes had a fifteen-kiloton explosive yield. If fired, they would have been as devastating as the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. An entire fleet of American surface ships would have been destroyed in less than a second.

Following days of playing cat-and-mouse with the United States Navy, Captain Valentin Savitsky, commanding officer of the B-59, was completely exhausted. Vladimir remembered how frustrated his captain had become when he was unable to establish communications with Moscow or the Soviet Naval Command. Though some say he was furious, Vladimir believes his captain temporarily lost his mind. Captain Savitsky ordered the nuclear torpedoes armed.

Vladimir distinctly remembered Captain Valentin yelling multiple times "We’re going to blast them now! We will die, but we will sink them all." It was looking hopeless until Vladimir and the weapons officer Vasili Archipov, refused the captain’s orders and took command of the B-59.

Following the crisis, the B-59 was ordered home where a naval inquiry into the events surrounding the B-59 was conducted. Fleet Admiral Sergey Gorshkov of the Soviet Navy concluded he had two choices. They could put Vladimir and Vasili on trial for mutiny. Or they could reward them. Realizing their actions possibly saved the lives of tens of millions of Russian and Americans who would have died in a nuclear exchange, Admiral Gorshkov went with his second option. He decided it would be in the best interest of the navy to retire Captain Valentin and reward Vladimir and Vasili.

Lights in the wardroom began to flicker on and off. Vladimir knew what this meant and begun standing even before the runner opened the door to the wardroom. He glanced at his watch. They were at the bottom of the hour.

Captain Kobzar, the sailor said, concern in his voice. The gold chevron on his lapels identifying him as an enlisted man with moderate rank. Captain Zhuravin, has ordered general quarters.

Any noise made within a submarine can be detected. When a submarine wants to remain quiet, they generally do not sound general quarters using alarms. Instead, they flash the emergency lights, or use the internal phone system to call the mess crew and order them to wake the rest of the boat. Unlike on the surface, when their three diesel engines are in use, submerged, the K-129 utilizes their electric engines. These were very quiet. Unfortunately, Vladimir knew their screws could still be detected. The mechanical noise and sheer size of the K-129s were nearly impossible to miss once they had been targeted by enemy sonar.

Quickly Vladimir rushed to the control room. As he ran through the submarine’s passageways, members of the crew were already preparing the vessel. Shutting watertight hatches and making the vessel ready for combat.

What do we have? Vladimir said in a controlled voice.

Sonar contact bearing one-six-zero. Range one-nine-five-zero. Speed fifteen knots, Alexander replied. Sonar refers to Sound, Navigation, and Ranging. Because sound waves travel faster in water than in air, naval vessels have been using echolocation and sonar since, 1913.

Submarines are capable of both passive and active sonar. Passive sonar is simply listening to the ocean. Noises generated by pumps, motors, propellors, and even the crew create sound pressure underwater. Sound pressure arriving on the sonar’s transducer produces a mechanical force translated into an electrical signal. Arrays of transducers use this information to calculate directionality based on signal arrival. However, they can only approximate distance by measuring the signal’s strength.

To remain undetected, most submarines do not use their active sonar even though it is much more effective in target identification at great distances. Active sonar produces a sound wave called a ping. This sound wave bounces off the enemy vessel and reflects back. The downside to active sonar is when using it, enemy vessels who may not have noticed the passive sonar and not aware of the submarine, will be immediately alerted to the active sonar and can use it to reverse-triangulate the contact.

What is it? Vladimir asked. Alexander looked at his captain and merely shrugged his shoulders.

We don’t know, sir, Alexander replied. It is an unknown contact, possibly a submarine, but there is something strange. We do not hear any screws or other mechanical noises.

Organic? Vladimir asked, hoping the sonar merely identified a whale to their stern.

Not unless the whale is bigger than we are? Alexander stated. Vladimir looked at his executive officer to see if he was joking. The Americans had a few submarines larger than theirs, but there was no other known submarine that large that did not produce a defined target signature.

Dive officer, fifteen degrees down bubble. Make our depth one-one-zero. Then increase to maximum speed, Vladimir commanded. Let’s see if we can get below the thermocline before it notices us, Vladimir said to Alexander. The experienced submariners both understood, the thermal layers in the ocean, separating the warm and colder water, reflect sound. If they had not yet been detected, the thermal layer could help hide their acoustic signature. In many areas of the ocean, the thermocline began around 300 feet. At one-one-zero meters, Vladimir had ordered the K-129 to descend below 350 feet.

Fifteen degrees down bubble, aye-aye, Captain, the dive officer repeated the command. Vladimir and Alexander held on to the metal table as they leaned backwards to accommodate the downward angle of the submarine.

Depth is one-one-zero, the dive officer stated a few minutes later. Zero bubble.

Increase to maximum speed, Vladimir commanded.

Increasing to fifteen knots, the dive officer replied.

Sir! the young sonar officer yelled. Contact has altered course. Now bearing one-eight-zero and has increased speed to twenty-five knots. She’s coming right at us.

Vladimir exchanged a look with Alexander. If this was indeed an American attack sub, their capabilities far outreached their own. The K-129’s top speed even using the diesel engines on the surface was only seventeen knots. Before he could say anything, the sonar operator yelled again.

Sir! Contact has increased speed again to forty knots.

Your instruments are wrong, Alexander snapped in repudiation. Check them again.

Vladimir picked up the handset for the sound-powered phone.

Weapons, prepare aft torpedoes but do not yet open the outer hatch, Vladimir stated. He did not know what this contact was, but anything that could more than double the K-129’s top speed was a danger to his vessel and crew, and he wanted to be ready if the contact continued to close on them.

Sir, contact has increased speed to…. The pause was long enough for both Vladimir and Alexander to turn and look at the sonar officer. Removing his headset, the sonar officer looked at his captains. Disbelievingly he announced, Sir, contact has increased speed to 130 knots. Impact in fifteen seconds.

Brace for impact! Vladimir yelled. Sound collision alarm.

The entire vessel jostled and shook from the impact. Vladimir and Alexander were thrown to the deck. As he fell, Alexander struck his head on the corner of the table. This opened a large gash above his eyebrow. Alarms began sounding throughout the control room as the many consoles began indicating multiple system failures.

As Vladimir pulled himself to a standing position, he began wondering why he had heard no explosion. Looking around his control room, he saw several of the K-129 sailors were resituating themselves in front of their stations having also been tossed around.

Captain Zhuravin! Vladimir yelled. Get me a damage report. When Alexander did not immediately begin moving, Vladimir looked over at his executive officer.

Alexander was holding one hand to his bleeding forehead. He appeared to be going into shock.

Captain Zhuravin! Vladimir repeated. His loud authoritative command snapped Alexander back into action. The executive officer immediately grabbed the sound-powered phone and began speaking rapidly into it.

Sir, the sonar officer yelled, contact is at zero-nine-zero. Appears to be stationary 200 meters to our starboard.

No vessel traveling 130 knots is capable of coming to a complete stop that quickly, Vladimir thought. In all his years at sea, Vladimir did not know what to make of it.

Sir! Alexander began, still holding the sound-powered phone. We have damage reports coming in. There is reported flooding in multiple compartments, including the engine room.

Without the ability to maneuver, their options were limited. At this depth, even their very low frequency radio could not penetrate the seawater. Nor did they have time to raise the antenna buoy. They would not be able to get a distress signal out.

Blow the main ballast tanks! Vladimir ordered. Emergency Surface! Vladimir knew their mission was over. It was time to save his crew.

Actuation of the blow valve forces high pressure air directly into the ballast tanks. This creates an overpressure that forces the water out, immediately making the submarine buoyant. As the submarine rises, the air within the ballast tank expands increasing the speed of ascent. Once they reached the surface, Vladimir could order the K-129 abandoned.

Sir, no response from the blow valve. We cannot fill the ballast tanks, the dive officer announced disheartened. We are sinking, sir. Current depth is 180 meters.

Alexander stepped close to Vladimir. The blood coming down his forehead had slowed to a mere trickle.

Sir, Alexander said quietly, what is our crush depth?

Our sea trials tested the K-129 to 260 meters, Vladimir said to his executive officer. What is the bottom depth of where we are?

The bottom varies between 300 meters to over 500 meters, Alexander said defeatedly.

Sir, passing 220 meters, the dive officer said just loud enough for everyone in the control room to hear.

Vladimir began wondering if they would be killed when the submarine implodes or suffocate when they ran out of oxygen.

Passing 280 meters, the dive officer quietly announced to no one in particular.

The rapid change in atmospheric pressure caused a rivet to break loose and shoot across the control room. It struck the bulkhead just above Alexander’s head. Vladimir looked over just as the cold saltwater began to spray everyone inside.

Chapter 2

Tunisia 2015

The United States Department of Energy conducts more scientific research than all other federal agencies combined. Classified programs such as the TALOS: Tactical Assault Light Operator Suit, formerly identified as Carnivore, and colloquially called the Iron Man program, consisting of a light armored combat exoskeleton have been researched and tested at DOE’s Pacific Northwest National Laboratories.

The Human Genome Project and classified research related to the newly established Space Force is also in the works. However, DOE’s primary mission is still centered around Special Nuclear Material or SNM, and nuclear weapons. What most people do not realize is all the nuclear weapons in the military’s stockpile are merely on lone to the Department of Defense from the Department of Energy.

To protect these highly dangerous materials, weapons, and classified research projects, the Department of Energy has their very own paramilitary group called the Special Response Team or SRT. Recruitment for the SRT comes almost exclusively from the military’s special operations community. Once recruited, these personnel are put through one of the toughest training regimens currently in existence. There is nearly a fifty percent failure rate of already-proven operators from an SRT basic course.

The SRT is not, however, DOE’s most elite unit. The Composite Adversary Team or CAT is comprised exclusively of SRT members. Though the actual number is classified, there are less than two dozen operators in the entire country. A person cannot simply apply to CAT. Instead, they must be selected from the SRT ranks by already existing CAT members. They are quite possibly the most elite unit in the US arsenal. New CAT members are again put through extensive training; however, this training revolves around infiltrating protected government facilities and performing simulated radiological sabotage or detonating mock improvised nuclear devices. The team’s official mission is to test SRT teams around the country. Results of these classified missions frequently find themselves discussed in the closed chambers of the Congress.

Nonetheless, there is another, even more secretive purpose behind the CAT, this is to support the CIA’s Special Activities Center. This division within the CIA is responsible for performing covert paramilitary operations overseas similar to how the Israeli Mossad did following the Munich Olympics. CIA officials who created the Omega program, wanted a more surgical way to kill terrorists. One that did not involve dropping bombs. Even precision-guided missiles always tend to lead to civilian casualties and bad press for the United States. What CAT members brought to the ultra-hush-hush Omega table, that no other special operations unit did, military or otherwise, was their extensive knowledge of nuclear weapons and special nuclear material.

Derek Riley was on one such a mission. Having previously served in the Marine Corps Special Operations Command known as MARSOC, he had been selected onto the CAT shortly after joining the SRT. Due to his expertise, he now found himself in North Africa in the formerly French colony of Tunisia. Sitting beside him was a member of the CIAs clandestine services, Bart Collier.

Though he liked to pretend to be a roughneck, Bart was one of the smartest people Derek knew. He previously served with Derek in the Marine Corps Special Operations Command. Special operators by their very nature can compete in most fields against any Ivy League graduate. After serving in the Corps, Bart joined the Central Intelligence Agency. Following his initial recruitment, Bart underwent the application process. This alone was a tremendous undertaking. Besides completing the thirty-page QNSP form, which is basically extensive biographical data, new applicants must provide an original, written, fifty-page paper covering a current foreign geopolitical topic of their choosing. These papers are then analyzed both for content and by an agency psychologist. Applicants passing this first step are then invited to testing.

 While Derek was shorter, merely five-foot-eight with a fair complexion, Bart was Derek’s polar opposite looking more like a grizzly bear. Yet the previous time they spent together in the Corps had them blended together like a couple of siblings.

You’re getting too close, Derek chimed, as Bart weaved the banged-up, Toyota Prius around a van that had ludicrously decided to stop in the middle of the street. Bart and Derek could have used any vehicle they wanted, including a black, bulletproof SUV from the embassy’s motor pool. However, since the objective was to remain covert, driving around the country in just another indistinguishable vehicle fit right in with the Tunis traffic.

You do know this isn’t exactly my first rodeo, Riley! Bart retorted. I can’t believe our lives and the success of this classified national security operation is hinging on a fuckin’ Prius! Derek cringed; he knew Bart was about to go on a rant.

I have a special level of hatred for anyone who likes these stupid cars!

Don’t start, Derek pled, knowing what was about to come.

No, I mean seriously, does anyone who buys one of these really think they’re saving the environment? What a bunch of totally gullible idiots. How can mining nickel in Canada, then shipping the nickel to Norway so it can be turned into batteries, so it can then be shipped to Japan, where it is then put into a car, which is then shipped around the world only to be bought by mind-numbed simpletons in any way be good for the environment? Anyone who likes these is a special kind of moron!

Didn’t you buy one for your wife? Derek asked, trying to shut Bart up.

Ex-wife! Bart said, smiling at Derek as if his point had just been proven.

Under the guise of being State Department contractors, Derek and Bart arrived in country nearly a week and a half earlier. Once in Tunisia, the two reported to an established CIA safe house. The safe house was really nothing more than a tiny apartment located in a quiet corner of Tunis. Besides the abundance of CIA provided surveillance apparatus and weaponry, the apartment came with an attached garage. They would have no other support. No communications, no back up. If the operation went sideways, they were on their own. If they were captured the United States Government would not acknowledge them.

It was from this apartment Derek and Bart planned their mission. After prepping their equipment, they began initial reconnaissance of the private air terminal of the