Grand Alliance (Kirov Series) (30 page)

Another
airship was a very big target, and airship duels could often occur at very
close ranges. So Karpov had a special swiveling rack installed forward of the
main command gondola, and there he hid away his little surprise, one of several
built into the design of this new airship. After seeing the success ‘Big Red’
had with his air fuel bomb, he also had a special bomb delivery rack installed
on this ship so it could easily accommodate that weapon. When finally completed
and commissioned,
Tunguska
had more guns and sheer fighting power than
anything in the sky, and a double thick self sealing lining on the interior gas
bags. With six powerful 1200hp engines, a third more power than the
Hindenburg
,
it was capable of reaching speeds of 115km per hour in spite of its mass, or
just over 70 miles per hour. And it could climb higher than any other airship
then designed, capable of reaching 15,000 meters and still operating safely,
which was well above the service ceiling of any fighter aircraft of the day.

Karpov
had his
Kirov
, a fighting airship that he believed was unmatched by
anything that might try to challenge him.
Tunguska
was twice the size of
the
Abakan
, and so he naturally transferred his flag the day of the
commissioning, and promoted his trusted Captain Bogrov to this new command. He
was told to scour the fleet and select the very best air crews to serve aboard
Tunguska
,
and he assigned it a company of his best troops for security, led by his
Intelligence Chief Tyrenkov.

Striding
aboard that day, Karpov was in a high mood, his newly shined boots hard on the
metal mesh deck as he walked the long central passage from nose to stern. He
greeted the new crew, spoke with them at their assigned action stations,
touring every corner of the airship, from the high top platforms where machine
guns and even 76mm recoilless rifles were mounted, to the Topaz Radar in the
nose, and finally his secret rocket turret. He had business that day, a very
special inaugural cruise planned for
Tunguska
.

The
meeting had been arranged just after the collapse of the Omsk accords. Enraged
at Volkov’s treachery, Karpov had made quiet contacts with Soviet Russia, and
he convinced Kolchak that they should explore possibilities for cooperation in
that area. So he was flying to Moscow that day, high above the Siberian cloud
deck, where no other airship or plane could find or follow him. Yes, Volkov
would learn of his arrival in Moscow soon, as his intelligence network was
simply too good, but by then Karpov would have already achieved his aim.

Let him
find out when I arrive over Red Square with
Tunguska
, he thought with a
smile. That will put some ice in his veins. I’ve stopped his little offensive
on the Ob, and his bid to quickly eliminate me as a threat on his eastern flank
has been foiled. Now the Soviets are pushing hard in the Caucasus, and Volkov
will be getting just a bit worried. Good! Let him stew and think I’m here to
sign a new treaty with Sergei Kirov. He’ll likely go running off to Hitler
again and whine that he needs more air support to stop Kirov’s troops.

The
meeting was conducted as an official state function, with the proverbial red
carpet rolled out in the Kremlin Square, and an honor guard and rousing band
waiting when Karpov exited his vehicle with Tyrenkov, and a troop of personal
security men following in his motorcade from the hotel. It was exhilarating to
be back in Moscow again, and Karpov breathed deeply, taking in the clear, cold
air that smelled sweeter than he ever remembered. It spoke of home in a way
that affected him deeply, and one day, he thought, I may just make this place
my home. I’m twenty years younger than Kirov, am I not?

After
the formal greeting from a line of state officials, with publicity photographs
and hearty handshakes. Karpov’s pulse was up when the door to the gilded,
octagonal Hall of the Order of Saint Vladimir in the Kremlin Palace was opened
by a white gloved attendant, and he stepped inside. That was a nice touch, thought
Karpov, as he had been named after that saint, and someone was making a subtle
gesture by staging the reception here. He walked into the hall, his eye
straying along the pink stucco pillars and up to the high vaulted dome lit by a
skylight by day and an ornate chandelier by night. There he saw the words of
the insignia and motto of Saint Vladimir, “Good, Honor, Glory.”

The Red
Security contingent was there, and his own personal guards joined them, departing
through a doorway on the right, while Karpov was steered in to the meeting room
beyond. He found himself alone for one minute in the lavishly appointed room,
standing near a comfortable satin lined couch near a warming hearth. The door
opened and a voice announced the arrival of the Secretary General, Sergie
Kirov.

Karpov’s
heart leapt a beat as the man entered, his presence like that of a figure
stepping from old memories of the past, a statue made real, endowed with the
luster of history. Kirov had been an almost legendary figure in Russia at one
time, and here was the man himself, a strong and vital presence, slightly gray,
but with a ruddy, healthy face and sturdy build. He walked over to extend his
hand, greeting Karpov warmly as he gestured for him to be seated.

Karpov
had removed his officer’s cap and set it aside on a marble topped table. “It is
my very great pleasure to meet with you,” he said politely.

“And my
pleasure as well,” said Kirov, who then got right down to business, with no
dawdling on pleasantries. “I must tell you that I wondered if you might wished
to take this meeting after what happened at Omsk, in fact I was looking forward
to it.”

“Indeed,”
said Karpov. “That was most unfortunate at Omsk, but the matter has evolved
since then, and Ivan Volkov will come to regret his distasteful behavior.”

“Undoubtedly,”
said Kirov, eyes narrowing, as he looked Karpov over, taking the man in. He had
been told to be wary of this man, warned by Admiral Volsky and his young
Captain Fedorov. So this was the former Captain of the Admiral’s ship, that
amazing vessel that had come here from the future.

“A most
impressive airship you have out there. Is it new?”

“Just
commissioned,” said Karpov. “It was christened
Tunguska
, as its
duralumin and steel rivets were mined and forged there.”

“A good
name. I see you have a fondness for large ships and the power they can wield.”

That
comment had an edge to it that Karpov did not fail to perceive. He shifted
uncomfortably, knowing that
Kirov
had been at Murmansk, and that the
appearance of the ship there meant the Soviets had certainly come to some
arrangement with Admiral Volsky. He decided to be equally pointed and spoke his
mind directly.

“It has
come to my attention that a most unusual ship has been seen in your harbor as
well, Mister General Secretary.”

“Please,
simply call me Kirov… That is the name of the ship you ask about. Yes?”

Karpov’s
pulse quickened again with that. How much did this man know? “Then you have
seen this ship? You have met with its commanding officers?”

“Admiral
Volsky? Yes, I traveled to Murmansk to see just what had dropped anchor
there—also very impressive. I must say that I found him to be a most
ingratiating and remarkable man, just as his ship is remarkable.”

“I see…
And may I ask what you learned about this ship?”

“You
wish to fill in the blank pages on your intelligence reports? Has your man
Tyrenkov been slacking off?” Kirov smiled, deciding something inwardly. “I must
be frank and tell you that your name was mentioned in that meeting, Admiral
Karpov.”

“Then
they told you? You know who I am?”

“Perhaps
you can fill in a few blank pages in my intelligence book.”

Karpov
knew he was on thin ice here. He could not allow this meeting to fail. Too much
was riding on it. If this man met with Admiral Volsky, who knows what they
discussed. Would Volsky have been bold enough to tell Kirov everything? He had
to find out, but to do that he would have to reveal much here about himself.
This was dangerous, he knew, but he started out across that ice, hoping it
would hold.

“It may
surprise you to learn that I know quite a bit more about that ship and its crew
than you may realize,” he said. “And no, this information was not provided to
me by my intelligence people. Let me say I have some firsthand experience in
the matter. But before I go beyond that, I must understand what you have
learned about this ship.”

“Yes,
the mysterious ship. We thought Volkov had built it at first—who else? You have
no major ports under your control, nor the industry to build a large capital
ship like that in Siberia. There it was, and with a Russian crew—a real mystery
when it turned up in the North Atlantic, and then an even bigger mystery when
it sailed and fought to support the Royal Navy! It was then that I received a
message, one that struck a particular note with me. It was from a man named
Fedorov—Captain Fedorov I later discovered, from that very ship. It referenced
an incident from my past—very many years ago, but one I could never forget or
even truly explain. So I was compelled to learn more, and was delighted when
this ship sailed north to Murmansk as it did.”

“And
what did you learn from your meeting with this Admiral you mention?”

“Enough
to know this ship could never have been built by the Orenburg Federation
either. It certainly wasn’t a British ship, nor of any other nationality. It
flew the Russian Naval ensign, and by god, it was named in my honor—what a
surprise!”

“Then
Volsky told you? You have learned the real origin of that ship?”

Kirov
folded his arms now, enjoying his little chess game with Karpov. The man was
trying to be very cautious here. He suspects everything, but really knows
nothing. What should I tell him? If he is, indeed, the man I was told about,
then this game can lead only one place. It could go on like this, move after
move, check and escape, so why not just end it and come to the heart of the
matter. He looked at Karpov, a determined expression on his face.

“Admiral
Vladimir Karpov, First Air Commandant of the Siberian Aero Corps…. I was told a
man by that same name was once a senior officer aboard that ship. Suppose you
tell me plainly now, and then we can get to the real questions that need
answers between us. Are you that same man?”

Karpov
pursed his lips, instinctively defensive, yet he appreciated the other man’s
candor, and directness. He decided he would be equally direct. “I am. Before I
assumed this rank I was a Captain, but not in the Siberian Aero Corps. No. I
was a Captain in the Russian Navy, commander of the battlecruiser
Kirov
,
the very same ship we are discussing. So anything you may have learned about
that ship, its origins and true nature, applies to me as well, Mister
Secretary.”

Karpov
set aside his doubt and worry now. He realized who he was, and the power he had
at this moment. Kirov must understand that as well.

“I see…
Then you were the man they struggled with, correct? There was a power struggle
on that ship, and you opposed your Admiral?”

“Yes,
that is true.”

“And it
is clear that you did not prevail. Most unfortunate for you, but in appears you
are very resilient. How was it that you came to your present post?”

“That
is a long story, and one we need not go into here. Yes, I failed in my bid to
assume full command of that ship, and we parted company. Call me Lucifer if you
will, thrown out of heaven when he thought he could rival God himself. That is
my sad fate, but I have made the most of it. Now I rule here, in this little
corner of the hell we’ve created of our motherland.”

Kirov
smiled. “Then you came from the upper floor as well, right along with Volsky
and Fedorov.”

“I
don’t understand. Upper floor?”

“Just a
metaphor that Captain Fedorov used to explain himself to me. Imagine a simple
boarding inn, lost on some forgotten stretch of railway. Imagine the people
boarding there all come from different places, which is not that unusual. Yet
now throw in a most remarkable twist—say they all come from different pages in
the history, different eras in time. The bottom floor houses guests who lived
before the revolution, the middle floor is reserved for travelers from this day…
and the upper floor? Suppose men from tomorrow board there. Men with ships no
one ever heard of, impossible for any nation on earth to build today, and with
weapons so potent and advanced they become a most decisive force in little
disagreements like this sad war we’re fighting. There, Captain or Admiral if
you prefer the loftier title now. Is that enough for you?”

Chapter 26

“Fedorov
told you all this?” Karpov could not keep himself from
leaning forward, the implication of what he was hearing now obvious. He
suddenly realized that this story, this metaphor, was very telling. It was not
just any railway inn, but a very particular one.

“Then
you know about Ilanskiy?”

“Of
course. And it seems Ivan Volkov knows about it as well, or what was that little
spat you had with him there? I believe he lost a pair of airships and some good
men in that little raid—a bold maneuver, even for him. Well let’s put it this
way. Let’s say we all seem to have one thing in common here, you, me, the men I
met off that ship, and even Ivan Volkov. We have all signed our names in the
register of that inn. Have we not?”