Winter Storm (7 page)

“Then
he did not scheme to take my command from me?”

“No
sir. He schemed to take it from Admiral Volsky.”

Karpov
turned, not appreciating that remark, and Tyrenkov could perceive the frost as
he spoke. “Make no mistake, Mister Tyrenkov. That was my command. Volsky was
merely a figurehead aboard for live fire exercises. He was a desk Admiral in
Severomorsk. The ship was mine.”

Again,
his need to use the past tense in that spoke unsaid volumes. Yes, it was once
his, but no longer. He passed a moment with that, the uncomfortable feeling
that he was again standing in another man’s shadow, albeit his own shadow now
in every real sense. Yet it nonetheless made him feel the same way when a
superior rival was in the mix of his life, and his instincts were always geared
at finding a way around the man, a way to undermine and subvert him. But how
could he do that now? Could he ever raise his hand against his very own self?

Yet the
thought that he would muddle about, the outward sign of power that was really
vested in his brother, was very disconcerting. He decided he would wait and see
what developed, but wondered, deep down, what might happen should he ever come
to a real disagreement with his other self?

As if
to comfort himself, more than out of any need, he gave Tyrenkov an order.
“Inform Bogrov that we are to hover over the aft quarter of the ship at 200
meters. No man is to be at any battle station, and all weapons will be
un-chambered and cold. Understood?”

“As you
wish, Admiral.” Tyrenkov noted one thing in the man. His tone and manner when
he gave an order were identical to that of the Siberian. Even the way he
finished the order with that single word, which Tyrenkov quietly repeated back
for confirmation. “Understood.”

Part III

Unmasked

“Wise were the
kings who never chose a friend till, with full cups, they had unmasked his
soul, and seen the bottom of his deepest thoughts.”

―
Kahil Gibran

The
Siberian was not satisfied. He had done a very thorough
search of the ship’s computers, and even spent time in the library, but he had
come up empty. He was looking for any reference he could find to the British
use of the word
Geronimo
in the second World War, but the data was very
sketchy, and most of his hits related to more modern operations of the US Army
in Iraq and Afghanistan. In WWII, the American Airborne troops were said to
have shouted out the name as they jumped from their planes. There was a liberty
ship by that name, and a
USS Geronimo
, no more than an auxiliary fleet
tug built in 1944. No other references were even that close.

There
was one vague reference to a P-51 fighter pilot calling a British radio station
code named
Geronimo
, but that was in 1944. Yet Tyrenkov had discovered
the secret code handle some time ago, and informed him that the British were
using it to refer to
Kirov
… So how could Fedorov have plucked it from
his history books? Clearly his material must be much more detailed than
anything available in the ship’s library. He wanted to get to the bottom of
this little mystery, and soon.

“This
is the reference?” he said to Fedorov, who sat sheepishly across the desk from
him in the command briefing room off the main bridge citadel on Kirov. There it
was, a simple list of British code words of WWII:

GABLE
- Eastern Fleet evacuation craft interception, 4/45

GABRIEL
- Planned raid on Cotentin, 1942

GAMBIT
- Midget submarine navigational markers, 6/44

GANGWAY
- Planned Landing at Naples, Italy, 7/43

GAUNTLET
- Allied landings & evacuation at Spitsbergen, 8/41

GEARBOX
- Relief supplies to Spitsbergen, 6/42

GERONIMO
– British radio operations center, London, 1941

“Where
did you get this list? I could not find anything like it in the ship’s
library.”

That
put Fedorov on his guard, realizing that Karpov had been suspicious enough to
investigate the matter himself. Would he believe this ploy?

“It was
just a reference PDF I’ve had in my files for some time. This is only the data
for the letter G. I can show you the entire file if you wish, sir.”

“That
won’t be necessary,” said Karpov, scanning the rest of the page. “Interesting…
Operation Grasp, the British takeover of French vessels in England, and a good
name for that one. Guillotine, the transfer of RAF personnel and weapons stored
to Cyprus. That was putting their heads under the blade, wasn’t it? The Germans
have the place now, right along with Gibraltar and Malta…. Gymnast, the planned
landing in North Africa in February of 1942. Yes, they’ll have to have the
skill of a gymnast to get past Gibraltar. That isn’t very likely now, is it
Mister Fedorov?”

“That
will depend on what happens with Rommel,” said Fedorov.

“I’ve
heard the British have a new heavy tank in North Africa?”

“Sir?”
Fedorov knew he had to play dumb on that score.

“Yes,
I’ve had Nikolin listening in on long range shortwave chatter, and it was just
a gurgle in the stream. Anything about that in your books, Fedorov?”

“Not
that I recall, sir, unless that refers to the Matilda II tanks replacing the
earlier models prior to Operation Crusader.”

“Crusader?”

“The
planned British relief of Tobruk in November of 1941.”

“I see…
Another code word. Well, I suppose that settles the matter. As for your research,
have you been studying the Japanese plans for December as I asked?”

“Yes
sir, I know that history fairly well.”

“Good.
You and I will sit down and have a long talk about it. Now that the weapons
transfer to the Siberian airships is complete, we can set our minds on the
journey east.

That
was the one thing Fedorov had been worried about. He had gone down to the Helo
Deck to see Troyak and sound him out, trying to think of a way he might broach
the subject he had just discussed with Doctor Zolkin. He remembered that mission
with Troyak, along the Trans-Siberian rail, and how he had first told the
Sergeant of his amazing experience on the stairway of Ilanskiy. Yet this was
something else entirely. This Troyak would have no recollection of that, or any
of their other missions where he served so ably—the rescue of Orlov with the
Anatoly
Alexandrov
, and that incredible amphibious assault he led. Then there was
the mission to the desert to rescue O’Conner, Operation Scimitar in Syria, the
attack at Habbaniyah to relief that beleaguered garrison, the raid at Palmyra.

All of
that happened. The sergeant had already done things in 1940 and earlier that
same year that he would now have no recollection of… Unless there was some
strange way to trigger the memories, like that bandage had with Doctor Zolkin.
That was very odd, something that had clearly survived from the old ship. How
could it remain here, along with those files Zolkin had discovered? What did
Time accomplish in this little shell game it was playing with the two ships.
Clearly this was not the ship he had last set foot on. The presence of a fully
functional battle bridge aft was testimony enough to that fact, and there was
no other sign of damage. But yet… there were these strange remnants, fragments
of the time he had lived through earlier, even digital records in Zolkin’s
medical computers.

It
remained an inexplicable mystery, but also a sign of hope for Fedorov. Might he
find something else like this that could serve as a trigger with Troyak? He
decided to test his proposition, rustling the branches and leaves of memory on
the tree to see if any fruit might fall.

“You’re
from Siberia, correct Sergeant?” he had asked Troyak.

“Chukchi
Peninsula. Small town there.”

“I hope
all was well with home when we left.”

“Still
there,” said Troyak, a man of very few words.

“I
suppose you’ve heard a great many taiga tales over the years. Ever hear of a
thing called the Devil’s Teardrop?”

Troyak
raised an eyebrow, his face registering recognition. “An old story,” he said. “Tunguska.”

“Tunguska?
What do you mean?”

“The
sky light. It goes back a good long way. Something fell, maybe a hundred years
ago or more. Nobody knows what it was, but things were found on the tundra, or
so it’s been said.”

“I see…
May I ask what you think of our present situation? The Captain has asked me to
brief the crew, and you and your men were high on my list. You’ve heard the
news, yes?”

“Very
strange,” said Troyak. “Severomorsk…”

“Ah,
yes, you were ashore, and also aboard the
Tuman
. I suppose it was quite
a lot to swallow. I was the first to argue that we had slipped somehow. Who
knows how? Probably that accident on the
Orel
. It’s quite a mystery.”

Troyak
simply nodded, and Fedorov continued probing a bit.

“Sergeant,
ever get the feeling you’ve lived through this before? They call it
Déjà vu.”

“Can’t
say that,” said Troyak, apparently oblivious.

“Can
you handle what has happened to us? And your men?”

“I
serve this ship and crew,” said Troyak, “on any sea, on any mission.”

“Yes,
but could any of us have ever expected this would happen?”

“Never
expect anything,” Troyak had said quietly. “Be ready for everything.”

Fedorov
nodded, recalling his conversation with the dour faced Sergeant, and then
realizing he could use something from that here. He had dodged a bullet just
now with this doctored PDF of the code listings for the letter G. All he had
done was extract that page from a document, add the reference to
Geronimo
,
and re-saved it as a PDF. But it was clear to him that Karpov remained wary,
and he would have to be very cautious. That question about the heavy tanks was
a good example. Was Karpov probing?

Fedorov
knew he needed some way of covering for any stumble he might make, and his
question to Troyak was the perfect answer. He could act as if he were getting
odd snippets of memory returning to him, a sensation of
Déjà vu.
Yet
even as he embraced that thought, he realized it might also endanger him
further. What if Karpov thought he might suddenly remember things that would
be… Dangerous?

“So
tell me, Fedorov…” said Karpov. “What will the Japanese be doing now concerning
this plan against the Americans?”

“Training,”
said Fedorov. “Their Chief of Naval General Staff, Osami Nagano, will not
approve the plan until the 3rd of November, and in fact, the General Staff was
against the operation from the very first. It was Yamamoto’s brainchild, and he
had to threaten to resign to get the Navy to go along with his plans for Pearl
Harbor.”

“What
was the General Staff worried about?”

“It was
a very risky operation,” said Fedorov. “Japan’s six best fleet carriers would
have to make a two week journey east, risking detection the whole time, and
they also argued the loss of those carriers would not provide enough fleet air
cover for their offensive into Southeast Asia.”

“But
Yamamoto got his way,” said Karpov, “and the Americans took their lumps.
Strange that it had no real lasting effect on the Pacific war.”

“It did
set the Americans back on their heels,” said Fedorov, “but they recovered
quickly, mostly because there were no carriers at Pearl Harbor, and the
Japanese failure to destroy the fuel bunkers.”

“Where
were their carriers?”

“
Yorktown
and Hornet were actually at Norfolk Harbor on December 7th.
Wasp
was at
Bermuda.” At least in one telling of those events, thought Fedorov silently,
until we arrived, but he could never voice that objection.

“Ah,”
said Karpov, recalling how Fedorov had begged him not to attack the American
carrier. He knew now that had been a mistake, but a part of him still exulted
to the fact that he had dealt the real nemesis of the Russian navy such a
telling blow.

“And
the other carriers?” he asked.

“
Saratoga
was in San Diego.
Lexington
was delivering aircraft to Midway, and
Enterprise
was also out to sea, returning from Wake Island when the attack came in. Those
were really the only carriers at risk, but there were 96 ships of all types in
the harbor that morning, and they were not among them. The Japanese hit 21 of
those ships, but only twelve took enough damage to keep them inactive for more than
a few months. Three of those were the battleships they sunk,
Arizona,
Oklahoma
and the old
Utah
. That ship was going to be used as a
target ship for gunnery practice! The other battleships they hit,
California,
Tennessee,
and
West Virginia,
all eventually returned to action.”

“So the
Japanese didn’t really hurt the Americans that badly.”

“No
sir. They really only killed about ten percent of the ships in Pearl Harbor,
and those represented only about 15% of America’s total naval strength, except
in the battleship category.”

“Interesting,”
said Karpov. “So it wasn’t the decisive victory Yamamoto had hoped for. And
what about those fuel bunkers? They were fools to overlook that.”

“That
would have been more difficult to pull off than you might expect. The Japanese
were carrying mostly armor piercing bombs, and very few incendiaries. They
could have damaged the fuel farms, and it certainly would have caused trouble
for the Americans, but the Japanese planner, Mori Genda, made no provision to
attack those fuel tanks. Even if they had hit them, they were surrounded by
dikes that would have contained the oil, and much of it would have been
recovered.”

“Not
burned?”

“That
fuel is much harder to set on fire than one might think. And face it, sir, the
United States would have moved mountains if necessary, and rebuilt those stores
in a matter of months. If the Japanese had taken out a lot of their fleet
oilers, however, that might have hurt them more than the loss of the fuel farm.
Operations at sea required considerable refueling capabilities in the Pacific.
And there were many other logistical targets the Japanese ignored—dockyards,
repair facilities, machine workshops—and military targets like the submarine
pens that would have counted for more than the old battleships they sunk. In
fact, they attacked only 15 U.S. merchant ships between Hawaii and the West
coast in December, and then only four more during the next ten months! Their
mentality seemed to perceive those soft targets as unworthy of battle.
Meanwhile, a single submarine they left untouched at Pearl Harbor,
USS
Tautog,
would go on to sink 26 Japanese ships during the war. That is more
damage than Nagumo’s attack inflicted on the US Navy.”

“Agreed,”
said Karpov. “The damn submarines were the real threat.” The Captain found
Fedorov’s knowledge refreshing. He had reached an accommodation with the man
once before, and even saw him become a promising young officer. Yet his
reluctance to disturb his history was his great downfall, as Karpov’s saw
things. Fedorov didn’t realize it was simply impossible to preserve the course
of events as he might read them in his books. In fact, there was no way to know
for certain if any of what Fedorov had just said was really going to happen
again. Tyrenkov was fairly certain the Japanese were still planning to attack
Pearl Harbor, but the battle could play out very differently.