Submarine

'Well, gentlemen,' the President began laconically, 'you've allowed me back from the hills, so I'd better not keep you waiting.' He pointed to the wall maps. 'There you have it, the irrefutable evidence, gentlemen. You've achieved in three weeks what I demanded of you: Operation so has killed twenty-one of the enemy's SSBNS.'

'One a day,' Hart murmured into Trevellion's ear.

'… culminating at 0100 yesterday, Sunday morning, with the kill I was waiting for: the enemy's untraceable, unsinkable monster submarine, one of their Typhoons.' He paused, searching amongst his audience until his glance lighted upon Quarrie. 'Gentlemen, we've got the Royal Navy to thank for ramming home the final nail in the coffin.' And as he smiled, a murmur of assent ran round the room. Trevellion remaining half turned, twitched a smile at Butch, as the President continued:

'SD's been a success, but since the destruction of the Typhoon, I've missed more sleep than during the preceding three weeks of waiting. For the past two days, I've been negotiating with the Soviet leader. The threat of failure, blackmail some would call it, is a powerful bargaining counter, gentlemen.' He paused to sip from the glass of water on the lectern. The President was firstly a politician, and his audience, the most hardened and sophisticated in the world, hung upon his words.

'Twenty-one of the enemy's ballistic missile submarines sunk in twenty-one days: the Soviet leaders cannot accept that loss-rate. The Kremlin is now convinced that the Soviet navy will be annihilated if the sea war continues.' He paused, then added sombrely:

'The Soviet leader called me twenty minutes ago. He assured me that he has cancelled his ICBM threat. All Russian forces are being ordered to withdraw from Northern Norway. The Soviet government wishes immediately to discuss practical ways of bringing about real detente, lasting peace. The Soviet leader, gentlemen, even professed interest in my insistence on his taking his armies out of Eastern Europe and so removing his threat of overrunning the West. As you all realize, gentlemen, it is that menace which forces us to have any nuclear arms at all.'

This announcement produced a momentary, stunned silence, a silence suddenly shattered by waves of cheering. The President waited for the jubilation to subside, then added quietly:

'By demonstrating our world-wide capability, I emphasize "world-wide", gentlemen, the enemy has been convinced, sobered by the brutality of the means we have been forced to adopt, that he cannot win. The success of our submarines, complementary in both oceans, has clinched the policy of deterrence which we have followed during these dangerous years.' Turning again to the wall displays behind him, he added laconically, 'Before we disperse, you should know that Vice-Admiral Jessup has just been on to me. His Striking Force has rescued the forty-six survivors from the Typhoon. The Soviet navy is co-operating whole-heartedly and is at this moment endeavouring to recover the survivors from the British submarine, Safari. We'll let you know, of course, as soon as we hear anything further.'

He stepped down from the podium. As the audience rose to its feet, Trevellion saw an aide scurrying towards Admiral Floyd, a telephone extension in his hand.

'Mr President,' Floyd called gruffly. 'One moment, Mr President.'

Trevellion watched the. President halt in his tracks, turn, then speak briefly on the extension. Raising his voice, he announced from the crowded floor:

'You'll be relieved to know that the Soviet rescue ship has started to lift Safari's crew. The first diving bell was locked on satisfactorily to the submarine's hatch ten minutes ago. It's nice to know,' he added, turning to leave the room, 'that they're human, after all.'

There was for Pascoe Trevellion a dream-like quality about the scene as they wrung his hands, pressed their congratulations upon Quarrie and himself, the warmth of American spontaneity suddenly spilling over. Then, discreetly leaving Quarrie to the circle of delighted officers, Trevellion slipped away to the communication complex which was at the end of the long corridor.

'Ministry of Defence, London,' he asked the operator. 'First Sea Lord, please.'

The voice he knew so well could have been next door.

'First Sea Lord here.'

'Trevellion, sir.'

'Well?'

'It's all over,' Trevellion said quietly. 'SD'S worked, si They're getting out of Norway.'

'And the nuclear threat?'

'Cancelled, sir.'

Trevellion could hear only the crackling in the phone. The: Anthony Layde said quietly:

'They've sunk Orcus. The Russians recovered thirty-four survivors.'

'Farge, sir?'

'The Norwegian resistance picked up several dead, Farge among 'em. His body's been identified.'

'Thanks, sir,' Trevellion said. 'He was my PWO in Icarus.'

'Better come home, Pascoe,' Layde said gruffly, 'to the haven where you would be.'