deep-sea operation involving Stratton and the Yanks but that was about it.
‘Oh yes,’ acknowledged the CO, who knew a little more than most. It was sometimes an odd position to be in, both for Stratton and the CO, when the subordinate knew more about what was going on than those further up the hierarchy.
The CO glanced at Stratton. Something in the look gave Stratton pause for thought. It was the way the man looked away as Stratton caught his gaze. That was most unusual for the CO.
‘Right,’ the CO said. ‘To business, then . . . David.’
The well-groomed young ops officer stood, smoothed his jacket on his slender frame and stepped lightly over to two large widescreen monitors. He touched the base of one. A satellite image zoomed in on the Black Sea, veering to the north of the mass of water and pushing in further to hold a position a few hundred thousand feet above a large harbour, its entrance at the centre of the screen.
‘Sevastopol,’ the officer announced. ‘Principal base for Russia’s Black Sea fleet. This is a ship-hull recording job. For the past few decades Six have carried out this kind of thing using robot cameras,’ he said, nodding to Jervis. ‘That’s not going to be possible this time.’
The screen image zoomed in closer, following the main channel into the harbour and heading south along a finger of water. After a few moments it paused and focused its bird’s-eye view on a naval ship moored stern-on to a jetty, several other vessels parked tightly either side of it. The ops officer touched the adjacent monitor and it displayed several close-up shots of the same vessel taken from the jetty itself. It was battleship grey and had the feel of a military craft yet it was void of armaments: no rocket platforms, no deck ordnance. Instead the design was stealth, the angular superstructure bristling with dishes, antennae and other complex-looking communications-technology features.
‘The Inessa,’ the ops officer said. ‘For the aficionados among us that was the name of Lenin’s mistress . . . It’s Russian navy. We’re not entirely sure what its precise purpose is. It may have more than one. There’s evidence to suggest it’s a mother ship for submersibles, manned and unmanned. Other evidence indicates it’s a surveillance ship. Mr Jervis believes it is far worse. The Inessa may aid in the delivery of chemical and biological weaponry . . . Our task? To photograph the underside of it.’
The CO gave Stratton another glance, which the operative did not return though he could sense the man’s eyes upon him. The CO was far from being a dramatic type and Stratton wondered what his concerns were.
‘And why can’t the technical people do this?’ Mike asked.
‘Technology may be advancing every day,’ Jervis said. ‘But it will never replace human input.’
A moment’s silence followed for them to digest that small pearl of wisdom. They waited to see if Jervis, the most senior person present, had anything to add to his own comment. He sat there impassively.
‘The Inessa has so far defeated all attempts to visually record her hull bottom,’ David continued. ‘She has a device on her underside that MI16 has euphemistically termed a disrupter, a powerful combination of sonar, electronic jamming, microwave and sound waves. Two recording devices used against it already in operations have yielded nothing. In fact, the disrupter wrecked their electronics.’
‘For the purpose of this briefing,’ the CO interrupted, ‘which, as you know is recorded, I should mention something we talked about before Stratton’s arrival. I understand we don’t know what this disrupter will do to a man?’
‘That’s right,’ the ops officer said, glancing at Jervis.
‘Much the same thing, I expect,’ Jervis said in an off-hand manner. ‘This will be our first attempt, so no one really knows.’
The soldiers in the room all had the same thought - Jervis was a cold bastard. The others glanced at Stratton for any reaction since it was pretty obvious who the man was intended to be.
Stratton’s gaze flicked to Jervis who was studying the screen images. The operative switched to Mike who could offer nothing more than a sympathetic raise of the eyebrows. The CO looked at him and again Stratton chose to ignore it. There always seemed to be something in each operational task briefing that caused angst. Experience had taught him to keep quiet until the end when he would have the full picture.
Jervis finally spoke. ‘In our attempts to understand this unique system we’ve discovered occasions