Fire Ice by Clive Cussler, Paul Kemprecos Page B

ship.
     
     
"This is the U.S. vessel Talon calling unknown Soviet salvage ship. Come in, please." The caller spoke in heavily accented Russian.
     
     
"Soviet salvage ship to Talon," Petrov replied in the American-accented English he had learned at the state schools.
     
     
"Do you mind if we speak in English?" the American said. "My Russian is a little rusty."
     
     
"No problem. I assume you called to let us know you will be moving off-site."
     
     
"No, actually I called to check on your caviar supply." Petrov smiled. "It is more than adequate, thank you. Now let me ask a question. When will your ship be departing?"
     
     
"Your command of English isn't as good as I thought. We have no intention of leaving international waters."
     
     
"Then the responsibility for any repercussions will be on your head."
     
     
"Sorry, we're not accepting repercussions."
     
     
"Then we have no alternative but to force the situation."
     
     
"Let's see if we can settle this thing amicably, tovarich," the American replied casually. "We both know what's on that wreck and what a pain it could cause our respective countries. So here's my suggestion: We pull back while you go down and retrieve your, uh, stolen property. We'll even give you a hand if you'd like. When you're finished with your salvage work, you leave and we'll dispose of the evidence. What do you say?"
     
     
"Interesting proposition."
     
     
"I think so."
     
     
"How do I know I can trust you?"
     
     
"Action speaks louder than words. I've given the order to move back a half mile."
     
     
Petrov watched the American ship lift anchor and reposition itself farther from the salvage site. Petrov judged that despite the American's lighthearted manner, he was determined to carry out his mission. The alternative to a deal was an escalation of force. Petrov was no gambler. If the American reneged, Petrov could use the armed men on his ship and the Soviet navy was on call. No matter what the outcome, however, he would not look good for letting the confrontation get out of control.
     
     
"Very well," he said. "Once we are finished with our salvage, we will leave and you may move in."
     
     
"Fair enough. What's your name, by the way? I like to know whom I'm dealing with."
     
     
The question caught Petrov off-guard. In a sense, he had no name, having been given one by the Soviet government He chuckled and said, "You may call me Ivan."
     
     
His answer was greeted by a deep laugh. "I'll bet half the guys on your ship are named Ivan. Okay, you can call me John Doe." He wished Petrov good luck in Russian and hung up.
     
     
Petrov lost no time sending divers down to the container ship. The torpedo blast hole allowed for relatively easy access to the hull, and two nuclear devices were extracted. There were a few dicey moments when currents snagged the lifting line, but they worked on rotating shifts and got the job done in less than twenty-four hours. Petrov ordered the ship to move out and signaled the Americans. The vessels passed within a few hundred yards of each other, going in opposite directions. Petrov stood on the deck and looked through binoculars at the American vessel. Through the lenses, he saw a husky man with gray hair looking back at him. At one point, the American lowered his binoculars and waved. Petrov ignored him.
     
     
Their next encounter was not as friendly. A commercial airliner from a third-world nation had been mysteriously shot down in the Persian Gulf. Paranoia was the reigning national psychosis of the Cold War, and for reasons as vague as they were far-fetched, both countries suspected the other of complicity. Again, Petrov and Austin located the plane at the same time. Petrov's ship came close to ramming the American vessel, shearing off at the last second so Austin could see the heavily armed men on deck. Austin called Petrov and warned the Russian to improve his driving or he'd get a traffic ticket. Austin stubbornly refused to move