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him.
    “Nothing new, Comrade Captain.” The starpom tapped the X on the chart that marked the position of the Rokossovskiy, a Delta-class missile sub they had been tracking for several hours in the same exercise area. “Our friend is still cruising in a slow circle. Do you think that Rokossovskiy might be trying to confuse us? Would Captain Ramius have arranged for him to be here, to complicate our task?”
    The thought had occurred to Tupolev. 'Perhaps, but probably not. This exercise was arranged by Korov himself. Our mission orders were sealed, and Marko's orders should have been also. But then, Admiral Korov is an old friend of our Marko.“ Tupolev paused for a moment and shook his head. ”No. Korov is an honorable man. I think Ramius is proceeding this way as slowly as he can. To make us nervous, to make us question ourselves. He will know we are to hunt him and will adjust his plans accordingly. He might try to enter the square from an unexpected direction—or to make us think that he is. You have never served under Ramius, Comrade Lieutenant. He is a fox, that one, an old gray-whiskered fox. I think we will continue to patrol as we are for another four hours. If we have not yet acquired him then, we will cross over to the southeast comer of the square and work our way in to the center. Yes."
    Tupolev had never expected that this would be easy. No attack submarine commander had ever embarrassed Ramius. He was determined to be the first, and the difficulty of the task would only confirm his own prowess. In one or two more years, Tupolev planned to be the new master.
     
     
     
     

Jack Ryan 4 - The Hunt for Red October
    THE THIRD DAY
     
    SUNDAY, 5 DECEMBER
     
     
    The
    
    Red October
     
    The Red October had no time of her own. For her the sun neither rose nor set, and the days of the week had little significance. Unlike surface ships, which changed their clocks to conform with the local time wherever they were, submarines generally adhered to a single time reference. For American subs this was Zulu, or Greenwich mean time. For the Red October it was
    
    
     Moscow
    
    
     standard time, which by normal reckoning was actually one hour ahead of standard time to save on utility expenses.
    Ramius entered the control room in mid-morning. Their course was now two-five-zero, speed thirteen knots, and the submarine was running thirty meters above the bottom at the west edge of the
    
     Barents Sea
    
    . In a few more hours the bottom would drop away to an abyssal plain, allowing them to go much deeper. Ramius examined the chart first, then the numerous banks of instruments covering both side bulkheads in the compartment. Last he made some notations in the order book.
    “Lieutenant Ivanov!” he said sharply to the junior officer of the watch.
    “Yes, Comrade Captain!” Ivanov was the greenest officer aboard, fresh from Lenin's
    
    
     Komsomol
    
    
    
    
     School
    
    
     in
    
    
     Leningrad
    
    
    , pale, skinny, and eager.
    “I will be calling a meeting of the senior officers in the wardroom. You will now be the officer of the watch. This is your first cruise, Ivanov. How do you like it?”
    “It is better than I had hoped, Comrade Captain,” Ivanov replied with greater confidence than he could possibly have felt.
    “That is good, Comrade Lieutenant. It is my practice to give junior officers as much responsibility as they can handle. While we senior officers are having our weekly political discussion, you are in command of this vessel! The safety of this ship and all his crew is your responsibility! You have been taught all you need to know, and my instructions are in the order book. If we detect another submarine or surface ship you will inform me at once and instantly initiate evasion drill. Any questions?”
    “No, Comrade Captain.” Ivanov was standing at rigid attention.
    “Good.” Ramius smiled. “Pavel Ilych, you will forever remember this as one of the great moments of your life. I know, I can still