Fatal Thunder: A Jerry Mitchell Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

was still struggling to figure out what exactly he could do with all his senior people gone.
    At a quarter to one, Samant cleared off his desk in anticipation of his guest. When the clock struck one, Petrov still hadn’t arrived and Samant got up and took another look through the binoculars at Chakra . She was high and dry in the graving dock. Annoyed, he started pacing. Petrov was usually very punctual.
    He recalled the first time he met the former Russian submariner, now a technical consultant. Chakra had just returned from her successful war patrol, and had been met on the pier by the Indian Chief of the Naval Staff, Admiral Rajan. After a brief speech welcoming the boat home and praising their efforts during the war, Rajan introduced Samant to Petrov, announcing that Chakra would undergo her delayed refit to upgrade her tactical systems and to repair some of the nagging problems still under warranty. Rajan explained that while Petrov wouldn’t be in charge of the refit, he was the senior Russian advisor and would be available to assist with any issues involving the new Russian equipment being installed on board the boat.
    What started out as a working relationship based on mutual respect soon grew into a full-blown friendship. Petrov recognized Samant as a kindred soul, understanding and appreciating his passion and drive. Samant was equally impressed by Petrov’s refreshing professionalism and extensive technical knowledge; he understood not only how the systems worked, but how they should be employed tactically. It wasn’t long before Petrov shared with Samant his checkered past as the only commanding officer of the nuclear attack submarine Severodvinsk . The Indian captain listened with rapt attention as Petrov described the collision with USS Seawolf , Severodvinsk ’s impact with the ocean floor, crippling her, and how an ingenious young U.S. naval officer by the name of Jerry Mitchell helped to save him and his crew.
    Samant launched himself out of his chair upon hearing Mitchell’s name, shocking Petrov into silence. Without saying a word, Samant walked over to a coffee table and picked up a large photo album. He hurriedly thumbed through the pages, stopped abruptly, and placed the album on the desk beside the Russian. Pointing to a two-page letter, he asked, “Is this the same man?”
    Petrov quickly read the letter, and noted the USS North Dakota letterhead; a large smile appeared on his face. “Yes, indeed! So you tangled with my friend Jerry, eh? I’m glad neither one of you were hurt, but I’m also not surprised that your encounters ended in a stalemate. You are both very good submariners.”
    “He was an absolute pain in my ass!” grumbled the Indian indignantly.
    Petrov laughed. “I believe that was his job, Girish.”
    The grimace on Samant’s face slowly lightened to a faint smile. “You should have seen Jain’s and my face when we realized that Mitchell had fired nuclear-armed torpedoes. I never ran away from anything so fast in all my life. Well, that and the angry torpedo barking at my hindquarters.”
    “I have it on good authority, Girish, that Jerry was the mastermind behind the U.S. strategy,” Petrov remarked quietly. “He somehow convinced the president of the United States to use nuclear weapons in a very unconventional way. As I said, he is very good. But just as important, he’s an honorable man—like you.”
    *   *   *
    Samant’s reminiscing was abruptly interrupted by the buzz of his intercom. “Sir, Mr. Petrov is here to see you.”
    “Thank you, Miss Gupta. Please send him in.”
    A moment later, the door swung open and Petrov slowly walked in. He looked tired. “Good to see you, Aleks sahib. Tea?”
    “Please,” responded Petrov as he plopped down in one of the armchairs. “It’s been a long day and it’s only half over. I could use a little pick-me-up. My apologies for being tardy, security throughout Vizag has become incredibly tight and I had to