Kirov Saga: Devil's Garden (Kirov Series) (20 page)

I
warned them, Volkov thought in the heat of the moment. Now to get that witless
Englishman. He had the presence of mind to retrieve his service pistol from one
of the dead guards, then he moved quickly, out of the dining room and into the
foyer where the serving girl cowered behind the front desk. The Englishman gave
him a wide eyed look, obviously afraid.

“You!”
Volkov pointed his weapon at the man. “Come with me.”

The
Captain prodded the man, goading him up the main stairway to the second floor
until they reached the upper landing.

“Where
is the room you were staying in?”

“There,
sir… The second door on the right I think.” The man looked confused,
frightened, and out of place in his odd clothing; almost archaic.

Volkov
forced open the door, easing in carefully before he pushed the young reporter
inside. “Russian Naval Intelligence!” he shouted, leaping in behind the man, but
the room was dark and silent. Volkov’s eyes narrowed as he methodically scanned
the nightstand, made up bed, and then he walked to inspect the closet and
restroom to make certain no one was concealed there.

“Well
it doesn’t seem that anyone has stayed in this room for some time.” It was
clear that he remained very suspicious of the man. “Very well, come with me.
Let’s find that old proprietor and see what he has to say about things. What
was your name again?”

Thomas
Byrne, sir. I’m a Reporter for the London Times—here to cover the great race is
all, sir.”

“Well,
Mister Byrne, your name should be on the register of this inn, yes? You had
better hope I find it there. Now move!” He wanted to get back downstairs to
look for his men and then phone in this incident. Someone would have to come
and collect the bodies he left in the dining room. He would have to file a
report, but first he wanted to see about this stranger.

They
were out into the hall, very near the back stairwell, and Volkov steered the
man that way with one hand on his shoulder. “So you say you were meeting with
friends in the dining hall, eh? Some associates? I trust you saw what happened
to them when they presumed to trifle with me. Bear that in mind. Now get down
those stairs!”

If the Captain thought he was confused by his first journey
down the back stairwell at Ilanskiy, the second would bring him to the edge of
insanity itself. He would soon find his security detail was entirely missing,
the inn itself entirely different again, and the station and town of Ilanskiy
itself nothing like he remembered. They started down, and along the way he
heard what sounded like thunder, an ominous rumble reverberating in the narrow
passage. The young man in front of him was suddenly silhouetted by a strange
amber glow. Three more steps to the lower landing and they were in the dining
room, but it was nothing like the room where Volkov had just killed the NKVD
who were interrogating him…It was nothing like that at all.

Chapter
17

“Hold
on, Jock! That looks like our man!”
Sutherland hissed under his breath pointing through a gap in the storage crates
of the warehouse where they had been hiding.

They
had settled in, watching the entrance to the detainment facility across the
street and trying to figure the best way to get inside. Sutherland was not too
keen on Haselden’s suggestion that they merely walk up to the gate and present
themselves.

“What’s
the worst that could happen?” The Captain explained. “They’d throw us right
inside, eh?”

“Well
bugger me!” said Sutherland. “I didn’t paddle across the Caspian Sea and come
all this way through muck and mire to get thrown in the bloody hole, mate.
There has to be some other way to do this.”

Before
they had time to argue the matter, they heard that strange thrumming sound
above them, and Haselden looked out through a hole in the roof to see a
swirling shadow in the sky. It was unlike any aircraft they had ever seen
before, but it quickly vanished in the low cloud, the sound of the big engines fading
away.

The
appearance of the aircraft caused quite a stir, and there was too much activity
in and around the site for them to even consider making a move at that point.
Haselden swallowed his idea and decided to hunker down. “We’ll have to wait
until things settle,” he said. “I suppose we could use the rest, and then this
evening we put on the black face and see if we can slip inside that place.”

“Now
you’re talking.” Sutherland was finally hearing a plan he could live with, and
one his commando training could embrace. So they waited, throughout the long
day until they were thinking to make a move. Unfortunately, the Germans soon presented
them with another option. They could clearly hear the sound of rifle fire in
the distance, men shouting, and the rumble of battle thickening with machine
guns and incoming artillery. Then, to their amazement they heard an enormous
roar in the distance, coming from the sea.

“What
do you make of that?” Sutherland had crept to the far side of the warehouse and
was peering out a dislodged board in the outer wall. Haselden crept to his side
and the two men looked out to see the strangest craft they had ever laid eyes
on. It roared in from the sea with two massive engines aft and looking like an
enormous inflatable raft with a steel superstructure. To their amazement, they
saw the front of the craft open like a landing craft and disgorge armored
vehicles that began amphibiously swimming to the shore. There were three
landing craft in all, and each carried vehicles, and swarms of black booted
soldiers who stormed ashore to the whistle of NCOs as the little invasion
proceeded.

Haselden
had seen amphibious tanks like the old Tetrarch, the Valentine DDs and the
newer plans for a Sherman Duplex Drive that the British would call “Donald
Duck.” These tanks were altogether different, with a low profile and a sharp
forward edge for scudding through the surf.

“Have
a good look at that, Sutherland. Now there’s a floating tank worth the bloody
name. Look at them move!”

“Looks
like the Germans are attacking and this lot is here to try and stop them. Now
what, Jock? Is this a private fight or can anybody get in on it?”

Haselden
squinted as he watched. “We lay low and see what develops. No sense sticking
our three pistols and a couple Stens in the mix. If Jerry is coming in force,
they’ll take this place. That looks to be a good sized company landing out
there, but the Germans will be coming with much more. If so, then the Russians
may soon have to abandon that detention center. Let’s get back and keep our
eyes on that gate. We won’t want our man slipping away in this mess, but all
this gunfire plays to our advantage.”

So
they waited, listening to the battle surround them, and catching a glimpse of
yet another odd looking Russian AFV that appeared to be a quad Ack Ack gun. It
lingered near the prison for a time, then moved off to the north.

“Looks
like they sent a couple squads inside that fortress,” said Sutherland. “They
may not give the place up easily, and suppose our man gets it in the middle of
all this shooting?”

“Then
he gets it,” said Haselden. “Nothing we can do about that.”

“Well
how will we know?”

“We’ll
find out soon enough. One side or another is going to win this fight. Hold on
Davey boy, you’ll see.”

Haselden
was correct.

After
a sharp battle for all of thirty minutes, they looked to see a group of men
emerging from the prison entrance, and among them was the tall stocky man they
had identified as Orlov.

“That’s
our man!” Haselden was jubilant. “They saw a group of soldiers peel off, and
two men herding Orlov in their direction. Then a series of three incoming
mortar rounds began to thump into the road and nearby rail line and the three
men crouched and sprinted for the warehouse where the British commandos were
lying in wait.

“Now
Maitland! Now’s your time!” Haselden hissed, repeating Wellington’s order to
the 2nd and 3rd Battalions of the 1st Foot Guards at Waterloo as they were sent
to oppose the French Old Guard.

Sutherland
knew the reference at once and gave the Captain a wink. “Up Guards, ready!” he
echoed, and the three British commandos tensed up for quick action.

The
Russians staggered into the building and, allies or not, the moment required
the hardest possible line. Haselden leapt up, pistol aiming and firing at the
two armed soldiers, who were caught completely off guard and killed with a snap
of four clean shots. The three commandos were up with weapons drawn on Orlov,
who gave them an astonished look.

Haselden
tipped his beret to the man. He had fulfilled the first important part of his
charge in finding this man, living up to the unit’s motto:
‘Attain by
Surprise!’
“Sir,” he said with a well earned smile, though he knew the man
would probably not understand a word he was saying. “You are now in the custody
of Number 30 Commando, Royal Marines.” He gestured with his pistol to move the
man on. “Take the point, Davey. Sergeant Terry and I will keep a close watch on
this one. Let’s get to the harbor and find us a boat!”

Orlov
had no idea who these men were, or what they were saying to him, but pistols
were pistols, and the two dead Marines they had gunned down in their sudden
ambush were enough to convince him that this was just another occasion to go
with the flow.

They
moved quickly to the back of the building, until Sutherland saw a way for them
to get cross a series of converging rail lines and out onto the main harbor
quay. As they moved they could see that the soldiers and vehicles they had seen
were also slowly retiring toward the coastline. Thankfully, there were a good
number of old fishing boats and a trawler tied off on the weathered wooden pier.
Sutherland made for the craft that seemed most seaworthy. He could not believe
their good luck! They had come all this way, into what looked to be a truly
hopeless situation, and this Orlov all but walked up and shook hands with them!

The
four men scrambled down into the boat, Sergeant Terry herding Orlov into the
cabin as Sutherland and Haselden quickly threw off the ropes and pushed away.
North, along the rail line approaching the harbor, they still heard the sound
of active battle, but it was clear that the Russians who had come ashore in
these strange craft were now withdrawing.

“Take
note of everything you see here, Davey,” said Haselden. “The Russians have some
very interesting equipment here. I’ll bet Seventeen would love to have a good
look at those big mothers there. He thumbed at the shadowy forms of the
hovercraft, which waited on the shore. Sutherland got the engine fired up and
the boat began to glide slowly down the long quay to the harbor mouth formed by
a converging jetty. All they had to do was clear that and they could head out
to sea.

Whether
it was fate, chance, happenstance, or just damn good luck, they made it out of
the harbor and Sutherland beamed as he spun the wheel to point the boat due
east. Like a mouse fleeing a burning building, they got clean away. The cats
were too busy clawing at each other to notice them or bother them in any way.
At one point, a turret gunner in one of the hovercraft spotted their trawler
and rotated his twin 30mm gun about for a look at them through his cross hairs.
Seeing no threat, he let them go.

* * *

Fedorov
was back in the ZSU-23, elated. They
had found their man, or so he still believed, and now all they had to do was get
everyone else safely back to the waiting hovercraft and out to sea. Troyak was
conducting a skillful fighting withdrawal and displacing back toward the
shoreline. The last PT-76 tank was back and already loading on a hovercraft.
Now Fedorov had to get his vehicle to the big
Aist
class hovercraft by
the main harbor. The engine gunned and they trundled south along the rail
lines, soon seeing the stark silhouette of the craft ahead, its forward ramp still
yawning open and resting on a narrow beach.

The
ZSU quickly made its way towards the maw of the beast. Groups of Marines were
filing in under the watchful eyes of their Sergeants, who were counting their
eggs as the squads reported in. Then Zykov’s voice was in his earbud.

“I’ve
got Orlov’s jacket, but we lost a man in the prison, and two more at the
warehouse just outside the main entrance. I’ve recovered the bodies. Hope it
wasn’t too bad for Troyak.”

“Where
is Orlov?” Fedorov wanted to know where his prize was.

“I
ordered the men to get him into the PT-76 for safekeeping. It’s loading now to
the north on the light hovercraft.”

“Well
check in on them,” said Fedorov, “and tell everyone to head for the
Anatoly
Alexandrov
. Good job, Corporal.”

The
job of getting the big anti-aircraft gun aboard the
Aist
was not quite
as easy as getting it off, but they managed and it was soon swallowed by this
metal behemoth from the sea. It rolled aboard behind the two BTR-50s, and the
Marines crowded in after them. As the operation concluded the overwatch turrets
had to engage German infantry trying to cross the rail lines to get to the main
harbor, and the two twin AK-230 cannons riddled the yard with suppressive fire,
the shower of heavy 30mm rounds being more than enough to stop the attack. Soon
the engines of the hovercraft revved up and it slowly backed off the shoreline
in a wash of sound and fury. They were heading out to sea, the radars watching for
any sign of German aircraft as they withdrew.