Jack Ryan 5 - The Cardinal of the Kremlin Read Free

see the fog that hung on the water outside. Conditions were perfect for the operation. Conditions had to be perfect; the Navy had waited six weeks for them, a moonless night and the thick seasonal fog that plagued the
    
     Chesapeake Bay
    
     region this time of year. When the last line was slipped, an officer atop the submarine's sail raised a hand-held air horn and blew a single blast.
    “Under way!” his voice called, and the sailors at the bow struck the jack and put down the staff. For the first time, Ryan noticed that it was the Soviet jack. He smiled. It was a nice touch. On the sail's aft end, another seaman ran up the Soviet naval ensign, its bright red star emblazoned with the shield of the Red Banner Northern Fleet. The Navy, ever mindful of traditions, was saluting the man who stood at his side.
    Ryan and Ramius watched the submarine start to move under her own power, her twin bronze propellers turning gently in reverse as she backed out into the river. One of the tugs helped her turn to face north. Within another minute she was gone from sight. Only the lingering rumble of her diesel came across the oily water of the navy yard.
    Marko blew his nose once and blinked a half-dozen times. When he turned away from the water, his voice was firm.
    “So, Ryan, they fly you home from
    
    
     England
    
    
     for this?”
    “No, I came back a few weeks ago. New job.”
    “Can you say what job is?” Marko asked.
    “Arms control. They want me to coordinate the intelligence side for the negotiations team. We have to fly over in January.”
    “
    
    
     Moscow
    
    
    ?”          
    “Yes, it's a preliminary session—setting the agenda and doing some technical stuff, that sort of thing. How about you?”
    “I work at AUTEC in
    
    
     Bahamas
    
    
    . Much sun and sand. You see my tan?” Ramius grinned. “I come to
    
    
     Washington
    
    
     every two-three months. I fly back in five hours. We work on new quieting project.” Another smile. “Is classified.”
    “Great! I want you to come over to my house then. I still owe you a dinner.” Jack handed over a card. “Here's my number. Call me a few days before you fly in, and I'll set things up with the Agency.” Ramius and his officers were under a very strict protection regime from CIA security officers. The really amazing thing, Jack thought, was that the story hadn't leaked. None of the news media had gotten word, and if security really was that tight, probably the Russians also didn't know the fate of their missile submarine Krazny
     Oktyabr. She'd be turning east about now, Jack thought, to pass over the Hampton Roads tunnel. Roughly an hour after that she'd dive and head southeast. He shook his head.
    Ryan's sadness at the submarine's fate was tempered by the thought of what she'd been built for. He remembered his own reaction, in the sub's missile room a year before, the first time he'd been so close to the ghastly things. Jack accepted the fact that nuclear weapons kept the peace—if you could really call the world's condition peace—but like most of the people who thought about the subject, he wished for a better way. Well, this was one less submarine, twenty-six less missiles, and one hundred eighty-two less warheads. Statistically, Ryan told himself, it didn't count for much.
    But it was something.
     
    Ten thousand miles away and eight thousand feet above sea level the problem was unseasonable weather. The place was in the Tadzhik Soviet Socialist Republic, and the wind came from the south, still bearing moisture from the
    
     Indian Ocean
    
     that fell as miserably cold drizzle. Soon it would be the real winter that always came early here, usually on the heels of the blazing, airless summer, and all that fell would be cold and white.
    The workers were mostly young, eager members of the Komsomol. They had been brought in to help finish a construction project that had been begun in 1983. One of them, a masters candidate at
    
    
     Moscow