When Tanner finally got one last report from a stealthy US sub that had been creeping up on the Russian Red Banner Pacific Fleet, he took heart.
“No news from Key West yet, but we just got traffic from Mississippi,” said Patterson. “We may just have some bragging rights after all! They say there’s no sign of those Russian ships up north. Looks like this little scrap is over for the time being. They spotted a couple Udaloy class destroyers afloat and running west for Vladivostok. Whether our planes took the rest down or that mountain did it, the good news is that the entire core of their fleet was blown to hell.”
Chapter 29
Kamenski sat at the desk, quietly stirring his tea. “So that’s what’s been going on in the Caspian region. How very interesting,” he said quietly. “And you call this thing Rod-25?”
“My Chief Engineer, Dobrynin, calls it that,” said Volsky. “It was a spare control rod for a standard 24-rod naval propulsion reactor. I don’t understand the engineering.”
The two men were sitting in Volsky office at Fokino, speaking quietly, with Inspector General Kapustin sitting with Kamenski opposite the Admiral. The hour was late, almost midnight, and Volsky was weary, disheartened by the lack of news on the fleet and needing sleep. But when Kapustin called again offering to make good on his promise to arrange a meeting with Kamenski, the Admiral decided sooner was better.
“That’s quite an amazing story, Admiral. And you say each time this control rod is used it causes a displacement event?”
“Apparently.” Volsky held up his hands, as empty as his understanding was on the whole matter. “I’m afraid my secrets end there, however. It sounds unbelievable, but I’ve experienced it—lived through things that I could not have imagined just three months ago. We have no idea how or why this happens, but seeing is believing.”
“How very interesting,” said Kamenski. “Controlled displacement…” His eyes seemed distant, thinking, seeing things far away, as if he were considering the vast ramifications of what Volsky was telling him now. Then his eyes brightened, and he turned to Kapustin.
“My good inspector General—you have records on all these things, do you not?”
“Control rods? Why, now that you mention it, yes I do!”
“How long would it take you to fetch information on this Rod-25? Could you tell me, for example, where it was manufactured?”
“Of course. I can log in with my computer and access those records right now, if you wish.”
“Please be so kind as to do so. Find out anything you can on this rod—where it comes from, who built it, materials used.”
“Certainly.” Kapustin stooped to reach for his briefcase, producing a laptop to log on to the naval logistics network. “I’ll just be a few moments.”
“Very good,” said Kamenski. “Well, Admiral, it’s a pity we never met before this,” he said calmly. “I think we would have been good friends, you and I. What you have told me concerning this Rod-25, as you call it, is most enlightening. It changes everything, you know. Everything.”
“Yes,” said Volsky. “It literally changes everything, which is why it is so dangerous. I must tell you I had grave reservations when Fedorov proposed we use it again. I was thinking to take it out into the deep and cast the damn thing into the ocean so it would never plague us again.”
“But you could not do this,” Kamenski said quietly. “The temptation was too great, yes?”
“Perhaps…. In the end I reasoned that if Fedorov was correct, then we might use it to prevent this damn war.”
“A noble cause, Admiral. But you and I know that it would not stop there, even if your officer is correct on this. I’ve had my eye on this situation for some time; pondering these very same questions. I’ve made it my business to learn a good deal about you, Admiral, particularly when you assumed command of Kirov for those live fire exercises. I suspected something was going to happen to the ship, but the where and when of it escaped me.”
Volsky was somewhat surprised. “You mean to say you suspected something even then? Before Kirov disappeared? I don’t understand. How could you know this? The accident had not yet occurred. It would seem to me that you could know nothing whatsoever of Kirov’s little journey to the past until she actually departed! Only then could history harbor the clues you uncovered—those photographs, for instance.”
He pointed to the photograph Kapustin had given him, of Kirov sailing proudly out from the Straits of Gibraltar, ready to turn south for her visit to the Island of St. Helena in 1942.
“Sound reasoning,” said Kamenski with a smile. “I worked through all this myself once. Believe me, it took a great deal of thought, and more than a little time. I was never a rich man, Admiral, nor did I ever desire fame. But realize that a man in my position has one commodity in abundance—information. I was privy to things in my years that were at the highest security classification, and I learned things that would shock you, even after what you have experienced and seen with your own eyes.”
“Does this relate to Rod-25?”
“Some of it. That was actually a new twist on the whole matter—even for me. Quite astounding!”
“Quite impossible,” said Volsky. “And yet it happens. That’s how we sent Fedorov back again—from the Primorskiy Engineering Center in Vladivostok, and that’s what my Chief Engineer is doing in the Caspian now. He’s setting up a mission to act as a recovery team for Fedorov.”
“Very enterprising,” said Kamenski. “And quite ingenious.”
“Our Mister Fedorov is exactly that,” said Volsky. “He’s been the guiding light throughout this whole affair. He was the first to realize what had happened to the ship, and he managed to convince us all in those early days after the event—even Karpov. Ever since then I have come to accept the impossible as commonplace. But I have done things that amaze me every time I think of them. Do you know I shook the hand of a British Admiral in 1942!”
“Admiral John Tovey,” said Kamenski.
“You know of the man?”
“That I do. He’s was rather diligent in the years after you met with him, Admiral. It seems he set up a secret branch within British intelligence system, known only to a very few. Even the highest ranking members of the British government had no idea of its existence—not even Churchill.”
“How did you learn of this?”
“I’m afraid secrets are very hard things to keep over the years. You would be amazed at all the things the KGB has learned. In fact, we had a man in Gibraltar when they first brought this Orlov in—though it wasn’t called the KGB back then. That was all before my time, but I took an interest in the file some years ago.”
“You knew of Orlov that long ago?”
“I didn’t, but Russian intelligence did. Their man was instrumental in getting Orlov safely out of British hands in Gibraltar and on a steamer heading east. Their intention was to get him to the NKVD, though I don’t think they had any real idea who the man was at the time—only that he was possibly associated with a ship that was bedeviling the British in the Med.”
“Then you know how this all turns out! You must already know what happened to Orlov, yes?”
“I’m afraid not. A million, million things happen each and every minute, Admiral, and the combined knowledge of every intelligence service in the world knows only a tiny fraction of it all. Consider a man quietly reading in the evening, alone in his study, or in those soft moments before he sleeps in bed. He is the only sentient human beings who knows what is happening in that room! That little corner of the universe is entirely his domain, and he is the master of all fate there. No one else perceives or knows anything about it, and the fortunate writer of the book he is reading has no idea that his thoughts and words are living again, streaming through that quiet man’s mind. What a sublime mystery that is, eh? Well, most of human experience is that way, like a book read quietly in the night, and no one ever knows about it. So to answer your question, we never did know what happened to Orlov after t
hat, but we may just find that out now that your Mister Fedorov has gone off on this mission.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you said, Admiral, things change. They change quite literally, sometimes in very subtle ways, other times quite dramatically.”
“Then you’ve known of Kirov all along as well?”
“Not exactly,” Kamenski explained. “Back then the GRU was mainly interested in finding out what was stiffening the hair on the back of the British necks in the game. Don’t think the Royal Navy can sortie its entire home fleet and not have it noticed! The Russian government got wind of something, heard of a code word the British used for it all—Geronimo.”
“Geronimo?”
“The name of a renegade Indian chief from the American West. I believe it was the name they gave to Kirov when the ship first appeared in 1941. The Japanese had another name for it in time. They called it Mizuchi, a sea devil of some kind.”
“I’m afraid we lived up to that handle,” said Volsky. “It was never our intention to intervene, though Karpov saw things differently in the beginning. But when you find yourself at sea in a fighting ship, perhaps one day you will understand why we fought as we did—not really for anything more than each other in the end.”
“I understand,” said Kamenski. “Yet now here we sit, with the power to use this mysterious Rod-25 to do some rather spectacular things.”
“You are talking about displacement in time?”
“Of course—what else? That’s our little dilemma now, is it not? For the first time we actually have control. We never dreamed it could be possible, but there it is—Rod-25.”
“What do you mean…for the first time? You make it sound as though this has happened before.”
“Deliberate displacement in time? No, you and your crew were the first to manage that, or so I now believe. But as you have been so gracious in inviting me here to discuss this matter, I will stir a little honey into your tea now, Admiral.” He smiled, leaning forward, his voice lowering. “I assume this room is secure? We’ve already said a great deal.”
“There are the two Marines in the hall, but nothing said here could be overheard. You may also take my word that nothing is being recorded or monitored. The room is completely private.”
“I will take your word on that.” Kamenski removed his glasses and cleaned them on the hem of his sweater. “And then I will tell you both something now that will bring this situation into a hard focus—it didn’t start with Kirov.”
He let that sit there for a moment, watching the reaction on Volsky’s face, his eyes shifting quietly from the Admiral to the Inspector General, who sat on the chair to his right, listing eagerly to all that was being said as he reviewed his records.
“What do you mean? Time displacement?”
“Exactly.”
“There were other incidents?”
“You, yourself are aware of at least two others, Admiral—Fedorov and Markov—so don’t be so surprised.”
“These things happened before Kirov disappeared?”
“They did,” Kamenski said flatly. “The first incident here in Russia was during the testing that became the Tsar Bomba detonation. We called it Kuz'kina Mat', Kuzka's mother; just a little lesson Khrushchev wanted to teach the west. The Americans called it Big Ivan. It was the AN602 hydrogen bomb, the most powerful nuclear weapon ever detonated.”
“It caused time displacement?” Volsky’s eyes reflected his amazement.
“That it did. Two technicians observing the event vanished, though they were 150 kilometers away from the detonation site. We thought they were killed by the blast, until they turned up twelve days later with vranyo that no one could believe with a straight face. Yet they had something with them that proved their story was true—though we need not get into that now.”
“Amazing… We also thought the accident on Orel was responsible for moving Kirov in time in the beginning. It was only later that we discovered the effects of Rod-25.”
“The two may be related,” said Kamenski. “It seems that highly explosive events can cause these displacements. They are most unsettling. The scientists tell me it has something to do with the fabric of space and time being distorted or torn by the detonations. The blow holes in time, if you will.”
“That was just what our own Doctor Zolkin suggested,” Volsky said excitedly.
“A very wise man…Well, we began to perceive the Americans and British were secretly testing something more than their bombs back in those years. We observed several similar events in our own testing program, and confirmed that very large detonations produced other instances of time displacement. In fact…what do you think the nuclear testing program was really for, Admiral? We already knew how to make the damn things, and we knew that they worked, but once these time displacement effects were discovered people got very, very interested. We think the Americans got in on the act early with their really big tests—Castle Bravo, Ivy Mike. We knew what they were doing, of course, but our early testing produced no results. We assumed the detonation were not energetic enough, so we pumped up the mega-tonnage with the Tsar Bomba, and it worked! We believed the story those two technicians told us, because we deliberately put them there to see if anything would happen to them.”
“Astounding…” Volsky did not know what to say. “The explosion aboard Orel was from a very small warhead, however, nowhere near the scale of the detonations you mention.”
“Very curious,” said Kamenski. “And I suppose that now your Rod-25 has something to do with this. The question is—what happened, and why?”
Kapustin had been listening avidly, even as he continued to search his data base. Soon his attention was being pulled from the things Kamenski was saying to the information on his screen, and now he raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised.
“Here it is, gentlemen!” he said jubilantly. “You see, there is something to be said for the plodding, meticulous work of a records keeper. I believe I have some information to offer at this point.”
Kamenski turned his way, smiling. “Good for you, my friend. “What have you learned?”
“Rod-25 was manufactured by Rosatomica, a subsidiary of the big state enterprise overseeing the nuclear power industry. The rod was certified and shipped for live testing last year, but for some reason the test was cancelled. As one thing led to another the rod passed physical inspection and was shipped to the naval storage facility at Severomorsk. That is how it came to your ship, Admiral, though it never should have entered active service without a live test.”
“Indeed,” said Volsky. “And no one knew of its effects until we used it for the first time aboard Kirov?”
“That appears to be the case, but there is something else you may wish to know, and I’m afraid it may amount to a very great deal.” He smiled.
“Well Gerasim, don’t be stingy,” said Kamenski. “Out with it!”
“These rods…well they don’t make them individually. They come in batches, lots as we call them. Those that don’t pass physical inspection are destroyed, but in this particular lot three survived. One of those is your Rod-25.”
“You mean to say—”
“Yes, I do, Pavel.” Kapustin smiled broadly now. “There are two more!” He tapped lightly on the screen of his laptop. “And I can tell you exactly where they are.”
Chapter 30
That news interested Kamenski a great deal. “Two more,” he said, “from the same lot you say?”
“Precisely,” said Kapustin. “One is right here, at Shkotovo-16!” He was referring to a special facility south of the naval headquarters building on the bay at Fokino that was used exclusively for the unshipping of nuclear fuels and other radioactive fleet waste. It would be stored there temporarily before being transferred to another site for permanent burial, called Shkotovo-32.
“I know this site well,” said Kapustin. “I have to inspect it every year, you see. We have five burial trenches there for low-level solid radioac
tive waste and more highly radioactive materials, such as ion-resin exchanger slurries from our nuclear-powered submarines. And when we remove the spent fuel rods, they are also stored here and on the technical support ships assigned to the facility. Then they get shipped to the Mayak Chemical Combine reprocessing plant in Chelyabinsk. We have 8,622 spent fuel assemblies at Shkotovo-32 by my last inventory count.”
“You see, Admiral? Information can be very useful in this world—even mundane statistics like those the Inspector here must tabulate. Yet now you say a control rod from the same lot as this Rod-25 is sitting there in storage?”
“They have to replace the rods they remove from the ships, yes? There are presently thirty-seven new control rods in inventory there, and one is from lot number18726, the same as this Rod-25.”
“Very useful!” Kamenski turned to Volsky now. “Admiral, I think it would be prudent if you were to have this control rod moved to a more secure location. Something tells me we may find it very useful in the near future.”
“The other rod is in the Naval Arsenal site at Severomorsk.”
“Get that one too, Admiral. Make the request seem routine, however. No need arousing undue suspicion. I must say, Gerasim, this, as the Americans might say, is a whole new ballgame now!”
Volsky seemed to hesitate, his eyes reflecting the concern in his mind. “Just what exactly are you proposing, Mister Kamenski?”
“Nothing, at the moment—only that we should quickly secure these two control rods to prevent any unexpected…complications.”
“I understand,” Volsky seemed satisfied. “I will see that they are very safe. In the meantime, something you have said here tonight has given me a little hope. As you may know, we have not heard from Kirov since the eruption of that volcano out east.”
9 Days Falling, Volume I k-5 Page 28
