Men of War (2013) (43 page)

They
heard footsteps, and the dead bolt being thrown back. The door opened to reveal
a grey haired man with soft eyes in a heavy robe. It was Kamenski.

“Forgive
the hour, my old friend,” said Kapustin. “But I think you will be interested to
see what I have found.”

“Please
come in,” said Kamenski. “My daughter and grandson are sleeping in their rooms
on this floor, but we can go upstairs and use the library, just up there on the
right.” He pointed to the stairs. “Let me get some tea for you.”

“It
can wait. When you see this you will understand.”

“Perhaps,
but if it’s that earth shaking, then I had better have tea. It always clears my
mind. I’ll be right in.” He padded off, and the two men climbed the squeaky
stairs and seated themselves in the library by Kamenski’s desk.

It
was not long before he returned with a Samovar and hot tea on a tray, which he
set on the desk. “There’s a little honey left if anyone takes it that way.” He
poured carefully while Kapustin fretted, tapping the envelope on the palm of
his hand as he watched.”

“And
what do you have there, Mister Kapustin. I hope not a bill for the furnace.”

Kapustin
smiled, then simply leaned forward and laid the envelope on Kamenski’s desk.
The old man’s curiosity was now stirred like the honey into the tea of his
mind, and he seated himself at the desk, eying the envelope as he slowly fitted
his reading glasses.

Volkov
rubbed his chin with some impatience, but Kapustin simply waited, watching his
old friend first take a sip of his tea before he reached to pick up the
envelope. “Now then,” he said softly. “Where did you get it?”

“Never
mind that for the moment. Have a look, please.”

Kamenski
opened the envelope and quietly read:
“Admiral Volsky… If you are reading
this then know that we have arrived safely at our destination, and will now
proceed with our mission to rescue Orlov at Kizlyar. Should circumstances
permit it, look for us along the Caspian coast on or after October 15, 1942.
May God be with you all. – Captain Anton Fedorov.”
Another brief notation
was added at the end:
“
Bukin
failed to arrive. We
hope he is safe with you.”

Kamenski
then looked at a small printed clipping that had obviously been torn from a
newspaper, peering over the top of his reading glasses to closely spy out the
date: 22 SEP 1942. He set the envelop and its contents down, then reached for
his teacup.

“Where
did you find it? “ he asked again.

“In
the old Naval Logistic Building cellar—one of the bins. Volsky sent a man there
to retrieve it at midnight.”

“The
envelope was sealed?”

“The
glue was weak, but yes. So what is going on here, Pavel? Is this some kind of a
joke Volsky is playing? We went to considerable trouble to get this tonight. It
is most disturbing.”

“Indeed,”
Kamenski said quietly. “So now you are the one handing me an old document from
the 1940s.” The paper appears quite old, Gerasim, as well as the ink. This
could be forged, of course, but a closer inspection would verify whether or not
that note was written in our time, or in 1942 as it appears. The news print
clipping is obviously authentic, but it could have been slipped into the
envelope yesterday for all we know. Who would be writing to an Admiral Volsky
in 1942? There was no such man that I know of.”

“Of
course it wasn’t written in 1942,” said Kapustin. “So it must be code of some
type—perhaps something in that newspaper clipping? But why, my friend? What is
Volsky trying to pull with this stunt? He must have suspected we were watching
him, and all the other senior officers. Is this his way of thumbing his nose at
us? Saying he’s on to us?”

“Admiral
Volsky is a very serious man, Gerasim. And given the situation in the Pacific I
can hardly believe he would have time for such games.”

 “Well
there is more. We saw several armed men accompanying this Anton Fedorov to the
Primorskiy Engineering Center across the bay early this evening. Fedorov is the
Starpom
aboard
Kirov
. We left a man there to keep an eye on the
place, and he reported that the Chief Engineer from the ship and a party of
five technicians moved a long container into a truck and took it to the airport.”

“A
weapon of some kind? Was it a missile?”

“We
thought as much at first, but who knows? Well I should know. Yes? I am the
Inspector General of the Russian Navy! I should know, but they had Marines
crawling all over the place.”

“And
this Fedorov returned to the ship as well?”

“We
could not confirm that. He must have slipped out somehow, because we had men
search the entire Engineering Center, and it was empty. The ship left two hours
later, a little before midnight. The whole damn fleet has deployed!”

“It
was inevitable, Gerasim. So you won’t have any ships to inspect for a while and
you can take that vacation you’ve been missing.” He smiled, and Kapustin folded
his arms, frowning. Kamenski took a more serious tone.

“This
Orlov referred to in the note. Who is he?”

Volkov
spoke up now, sounding like the perfect tattletale. “He was the Chief
Operations Officer aboard
Kirov
, and was listed as a casualty.”

“Yes,”
said Kapustin. “The only man Moscow confirmed from the Naval Records Bureau.
When you called to ask about that old photo of the Japanese with that missile
part I wondered what you were up to, Kamenski. So now you can wonder what
we
are up to. This Orlov was reported missing in action. Now we have a Marine sent
from the Naval Headquarters at Fokino to the Logistics Building and he
retrieves this strange letter from a dusty old storage bin. Volsky obviously
sent the man. What is this about?”

“The
third man mentioned in the letter…Who is he?”

“
Bukin
? We found out that he is a Marine Corporal assigned
to
Kirov’s
detachment. He was one of the men accompanying Fedorov to the
Engineering Center tonight.”

“Well
this is very curious. The note says the
Starpom
is headed to Kizlyar to
look for this missing Operations Chief. That’s a very long trip.”

“The
ship’s Captain Karpov and the others were very evasive when I began sniffing
around that casualty list,” said Kapustin.

“Yes,”
Volkov put in. “I had to haggle with that doctor to even get the list!”

“Let
me ask you something, Inspector General. I don’t suppose you bothered to check
on anything in the ship’s library while you were aboard
Kirov
.”

“Library?
You mean the books? I was there to count men and missiles, not books, Pavel.”

“Of
course. But I am willing to bet there were books in that library when that ship
left Severomorsk that are not there now tonight as it leaves Vladivostok. Did
you not find it even passing strange that all the ship’s logs and records were
mysteriously damaged by this accident, but not the ship’s fire control systems
and communications? They all just had a flutter and now they work fine again?
Did you bother to confiscate any hard drives from the ship’s computer to see if
they had been tampered with?”

“That
thought occurred to me, but there was very little time with this business
brewing up in the Pacific. The damage control teams were working all over the
ship to get it ready for operations again. I couldn’t start ripping computers
apart. The IT personnel said they had restored those drives and had vital ship
information re-written to them.”

“How
convenient. And then your time ran out.” Kamenski finished his friend’s next
thought.

“I
assure you that I pressed on this matter very firmly.”

“It
was the ship’s Captain,” said Volkov. “He was an obstruction from the first
moment we set foot aboard
Kirov
. In fact, he flatly refused to answer
our questions about these missing men, not to mention the missing nuclear
warhead! He said it was none of our business! Can you imagine that? The effrontery
of the man.”

Kapustin
held up a hand as if to calm his angry assistant. “Karpov made it seem as
though the ship was on some very classified mission.”

“It
very well may have been on such a mission.”

“He
implied that, Pavel. You do not know everything—this is what Karpov said to me.
I believe they were trying to cover up something related to those thirty-six
missing men. Could
Kirov
have been on a black mission, perhaps to insert
clandestine agents somewhere before this world goes to hell again? This is what
I came to believe, and so I closed the book on my investigation for the moment.
Yet I kept a watchful eye just the same.”

“You
were wise to do so, Gerasim. Yet given the present situation with
Kirov
out to sea again there will not be much more you can do. So I have some advice
for you now. Let the matter go.”

“Let
the matter go? How am I supposed to explain these discrepancies—the missing
men, the missing warhead, this silly old letter from a dingy storage bin?”

“You
can’t explain them at the moment, so you must delay your final report. You’re a
clever man, Gerasim. You can bury your report under a mile of paperwork if you
so choose. Simply mark the investigation as being held in abeyance due to the
fleet’s emergency deployment. The answers to your questions may still be aboard
that ship, but it has sailed to off to war. So let the matter rest, just as you
decided earlier.”

Kapustin
shrugged, then his features softened and he nodded at his long time friend in
agreement. Volkov was clearly not happy, however, still straining at the leash
emotionally, his face a clear story to be read by the other two men.

Kamenski
took another sip of tea and turned to Volkov, noting his energy, and the
restrained urgency of the man. Then he decided something inwardly, and spoke
again.

“Mister
Volkov, I think it would be good if you arrange to have some men at the airport
right away. Find out where that container is headed. Perhaps your missing
warhead is there, yes? Put a couple of good men on it, very discretely. This
Fedorov will have to get to Kizlyar by one means or another. He may be at
the  airport as well, but then again… I think you should take a long train
ride. Stop at every terminal between here and Kizlyar. Ask questions. For all
we know this
Starpom
may be on the Trans-Siberian rail at this very
moment. He will be clever as well, but you must follow him like a good shadow.
Yes?”

“Rely
on me, sir.”

“Excellent…
In fact I think you should leave at once. There may be no time to lose in this
matter.”

“Very
well, sir,” said Volkov. “I will take care of everything. If this Fedorov is on
a plane or train heading west, we’ll find him, you can rest assured.”

“Find
him and follow him, Captain, but be very clever—very discrete. Then report back
to me. Understood? Report to no one else in this matter. If anyone questions
you simply tell them Kamenski sent you. That will settle it.”

“Of
course, sir.”

Volkov
stood up with renewed energy, excused himself, and went quickly down the
stairs, a little too loudly for Kamenski’s liking, but soon they heard the
front door close and the two men were alone. Kamenski got up, walking to the
library wall to take out a book, and then he closed the library door before
returning to his desk.

“That
was just to get rid of Volkov,” he said quietly. “That man is wired to tightly,
Gerasim. You should be very careful with him. I think you should send him off
on another assignment soon. Send him to Omsk or Novosibirsk to work on the
Ballistic Missile inventories or something. For the moment I think he will be
well occupied. A good long ride on the Tran-Siberian rail might keep him busy
for a while. He’s dangerous, understand?”

“Very
well, Pavel. He does get on my nerves at times. Perhaps you are correct. But
what about this situation with
Kirov?
Do you really think I should drop
the matter? Something is going on here. What could it be? These dates in 1942
on that letter. This must be code, yes?”

“Perhaps…perhaps
not.”

“What
do you mean, perhaps not? If Fedorov is on that train Volkov will get to him in
short order, and we’ll soon find out.”

“Oh,
he’s probably on the train alright,” said Kamenski, “but I don’t think Volkov
will find him.” He leaned back, sipping his tea. “I’m going to confide in you
now, my friend. This is another reason why I wanted to get Volkov on his way.
Very few men alive today will know what I am about to tell you.” He gestured to
the many volumes in the book cases of the library. “As you can see, I do a lot
of reading and research. Quite a lot for these old eyes. Well now… what I am
about to tell you may surprise you, even shock you. You may be tempted to pass
it off as the senility of an aging man, but you would be wrong to think this.
Yes, I forget where I lay my reading glasses on occasion, but my mind is still
very sharp.” He tapped his forehead with a finger.

“I
have a particular interest in naval history, and I am quite fond of this book,
for example.” He pointed to a thick hard bound volume of the
Chronology of
the Naval War at Sea.
“How to put this…” Kamenski thought for a moment.
“Well, my friend, suppose you had a favorite book, or perhaps even a favorite
movie or song. You may have read it many times, seen it many times, or hummed
that old tune in your head a thousand times. Then one day you decide to reach
for your book to look over a favorite chapter, and you find it strangely
different. The scene you had thought to read about was not there, and more than
that, other things happen in the story that you cannot recall at all! There you
sit waiting for your favorite part of the movie, and it never comes. There you
sit humming that tune in your head and when you finally put the song on the
stereo player, it is…different, changed. In fact in parts it is now completely
unfamiliar.”