North Cape

The A-17 stumbled on through the wrack of shielding cloud toward the North Cape of Norway. Somewhere ahead, Soviet aircraft searched the Finnish and Norwegian skies with optical and electronic detection gear for any traces of Teleman. Soviet picket aircraft and ships joined ground stations monitoring the entire spread of communications bands Teleman would be likely to use in transmitting his information. In his office at the Lenin Air Base outside Leningrad, the Soviet commander of the search mission fumed at his helplessness. Somewhere in the Barents or Greenland sea a picket ship was waiting for the American aircraft. Submarine or surface ship, it would make no difference to the aircraft and ships he could put onto the task of finding the intruder aircraft at its rendezvous point. But the storm negated his best efforts. No surface ship could put successfully to sea until the seas moderated. Aircraft could not penetrate the storm beneath the cloud layer. Instead he was forced to string fighters out in a long line with no guarantee that the American would fly obligingly up the gauntlet. The American pilot had bested the Soviets once along the Afghan border. It was the sheerest luck that they had spotted the trailing fringe of his ECM net as he turned north over Poland. Luck like that could not happen twice, damn id

CHAPTER 12

Folsom stared pensively out the starboard port, watching the storm-thrashed waves towering on either side of the ship. Only rarely now did they break over the bow to come dashing down the length of the ice-smooth deck. He became aware that Larkin had come onto the bridge and had moved over to stand behind hint

"The seas seem to be easing somewhat"

"Yes, sir. We aren't taking such a pounding now. The repair crew.has managed to reweld the cover plates in the bow section and rig a couple of beams to help hold it in place. I don't think we'll have any more trouble, from that quarter at least"

"Then there are small things to be grateful for." Larkin smiled. "You have managed quite well, Mr: Folsom. I must say that I am proud of both you and the crew." Larkin delivered this rare compliment in a matter-of-fact voice, but Folsom was deeply touched by it.

"Thank you, sir. Although you might want to modify that when you hear about the condensers."

Larkin chuckled. "Expecting a rocket were you? I read the report when I came up. Don't worry about it. As you know, man does not always triumph over machinery," he quoted solemnly. "There was nothing else you could have done. And I think the auxiliary condensers can handle the cooling system for now."

He paused and stared out at the waves. "What have you de cided about using the boost engines?"

uh, nothing really, at least at the moment. I didn't "Well, think…"

'"Come now, you are the executive officer. You probably know this ship and her engines better than I do. Do you think she could handle seas like this under emergency power?" Folsom hesitated a moment before answering. "Yes, I think maybe she could," he said thoughtfully. "Ordinarily I would suggest that we go farther under the lee of the Cape. We might find easier waters there. The only thing that worries me is whether or not the hydrofoils could stand the pounding. In and out of the water so much… shorter seas would be a lot easier on the struts."

Larkin rubbed his mouth and chin. "Go in closer to the coast… I don't really know. Most of the charts for this area are not accurate. This coast hasn't really been thoroughly re-charted since the Germans did it in 1941. The coastal shelf is full of reefs.… How close in would you want to go?"

"At least five miles."

"Five miles!" Larkin exclaimed. "That puts us inside Norwegian waters." Folsom nodded. "I know, sir, but anything less would do us no good. That's why I don't think we should try. The Norwegians probably Wouldn't raise a fuss if they spotted us. But, if for some reason they did, the investigating board would have to examine our logs and there would be no way of concealing the fact that we did violate Norwegian waters without permission.

"We can gain a few extra knots by coupling the boost engines to the main drive shafts anyway."

Larkin nodded assent and turned away to cross to his high seat. He sat down and scanned the readout dials that presented the status of every vital portion of the ship. Both Larkin's and Folsom's panels — identical in every way — were to the Robert F. Kennedy what Teleman's PCMS console had been to the A-17.