Fatal Thunder: A Jerry Mitchell Novel Read Online Free

security at the main gate. They might post sentries and institute ID checks at the entrances to every building. They might even close the commissary because they were worried about terrorist attacks, but this office would not follow their example.
    Back in his office, he sat down to organize his thoughts. His eyes fell on the large photograph of Chakra , hung on the center of the opposite wall, facing his desk. His new office was almost palatial, compared with the closet-sized space he’d lived and worked in aboard the submarine, but he missed it. He missed being in command of one of the most important units in the Indian Navy.
    He still worried about her, too. Was all this confusion affecting the refit? He thought of phoning Jain and visiting for a few minutes, but was reluctant to call. He and Jain had never been that close. It had never seemed appropriate to Samant. Jain would be busy enough without getting a call from his former commanding officer. He might even interpret it as meddling.
    Better to focus on the task at hand. Lead by example.
    He left to find Singh.
    11 March 2017
    1700 Local Time
    Visakhapatnam, India
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    Aleksey Petrov often ate at Akshaya’s, in the restaurant district northeast of the naval base and the dockyard. Many of the other Russians working in Visakhapatnam, or “Vizag,” ate there as well. The staff was considerate of foreign sensibilities, toning down the spices below their customary volcanic intensity, and they’d actually tried adding some foreign items to the menu. Luckily, Petrov liked pierogies, and hadn’t had the heart to tell the manager they were Polish, not Russian.
    Virtually all the Russians in Vizag worked either at the naval base or the dockyard, and often met at Akshaya’s, sharing conversation—usually news from home and complaints about the heat and humidity.
    Today the talk was all about work. The Russians who worked at the dockyard as technicians or consultants were in an uproar. At noon, Captain Mitra, in charge of the work on Chakra , had called everyone into the shipyard and announced that the sub’s refit was to be cut short. She had to be ready for sea in four weeks!
    “‘By April tenth,’ Mitra announced,” Ivanov reported, “as if it was that easy! Admiral Dhankhar was there, too, looking as if he was afraid Mitra wouldn’t recite his speech properly.”
    Anton Kulik, an electronics technician and former sonar officer, complained, “It doesn’t make sense. I’m still routing the new cabling. Some of the new components aren’t even on hand yet. Mitra says anything that can’t be finished by April tenth should just be closed up as best we can.”
    “Why?” Petrov asked. He was just as puzzled as the others, but not as emotionally attached to the refit work. He worked over in the Engineering Hall as a consultant on submarine technology; that is, until this afternoon. Now he was a special advisor to Mitra.
    “The heightened tensions after the Kashmir blast require Chakra to be operational as soon as possible, according to Mitra.” Ivanov sounded angry, as if he’d been insulted. “Was that the best excuse they could come up with?”
    “Maybe they’re nervous about having both nuclear subs in the dockyard at the same time,” Petrov said, shrugging. “It’s not a good reason to end the refit early, but it’s easier to believe.”
    “No, that doesn’t make any sense,” Suslov said, shaking his head. “The entire reason they scheduled the refit was because they knew Chakra wouldn’t play a big part in the war with Pakistan. That hasn’t changed, as far as I can see.”
    Everyone at the table, Petrov included, nodded agreement. The Indian Navy had definitely wanted Chakra to be refitted. Preparations had included over a year of planning, negotiations with Russia and money spent for parts and equipment to be fitted into the sub, more money to prepare the dockyard—it would fill a book. To suddenly abandon the project like this was more