Sea Devil

by Richard P. Henrick

  Markov was an educated, cosmopolitan man of the world who had been born and raised in the port city of Odessa. As the Spetsnaz prepared to move in on the outskirts of Kiel, Igor was temporarily assigned to Markov’s unit. The two hit it off splendidly from the very beginning. For the city slicker, Igor was like a breath of fresh air, while the worldly Markov represented everything that the young Estonian ever wanted to be.

  They were at each other’s side on the morning that the Spetsnaz overran the defenses of Kiel’s naval production facility. Together they burst into the cavernous warehouse on pier 13, and viewed the dozens of miniature tracked submersibles that the Germans were preparing to deploy in the Baltic and elsewhere. A frightened design technician who had been hiding in an adjoining office explained that this 35-ton amphibious midget was to be powered by a 25-horsepower motor, giving it a submerged speed of 8 knots to a depth of 21 meters. It’s Caterpillar tracks were incorporated to simplify its launch from special bases, while two torpedoes were to be carried alongside them. It was Markov who asked the cowering technician the name of this vessel.

  “Seeteufel,” he readily answered.

  Igor’s German was still poor, and he depended upon his newfound friend to translate for him.

  “They call it Sea Devil,” said Konstantin.

  “What a fitting name for such a unique vessel.”

  Igor readily agreed, and spent the entire afternoon crawling through the cramped interior of one of the just completed prototype models. That evening, he shared his initial impressions with Konstantin Markov. To the impressionable Estonian, such craft held the future of naval special operations. He envisioned vast fleets of Sea Devils, complete with their crews of highly trained Spetsnaz operatives, sneaking into enemy waters, cutting through sub nets, laying mines and other ordinance, and even clandestinely landing teams of commandoes. All this would be carried out right in the enemy’s own backyard, without him being any the wiser.

  Konstantin listened intently, and agreed that the vessel did have great potential. He promised to bring Sea Devil to the attention of his uncle, who was the managing director of Sevastopol’s Red Banner shipyards. True to his word, after the conclusion of the war Konstantin did in fact tell his uncle about the tracked submersible. When he showed a genuine interest in his nephew’s wartime discovery, Igor was given the job of transferring one of the appropriated vessels down to the Red Banner shipyards.

  Little did he ever realize it then, but this would only be the start of a relationship that was to last for over four decades.

  The deep-throated cry of a boat whistle sounded in the distance, and Igor broke from his deep pondering and looked up into the clear, blue sky. The sun was not yet directly overhead, but just in case the noon ferry was early, the whitehaired veteran decided to increase the pace of his hike.

  The path took him through a thick forest of birch trees and led downward into a scrub-filled bog. He had to be extra cautious not to deviate from the trail on this part of the journey, for the swamp was rumored to contain quicksand that could swallow a man up quicker than a great white shark.

  He was a bit winded by the time he successfully crossed the bog. His sedentary life-style was not conducive to physical conditioning. And besides, with Moscow’s soot-laden air, it was healthier to catch a ride in a limo than walk anyway.

  As he attained the summit of a small rise, Igor was thankful that he had given up smoking and had kept his weight in check. Other than his arthritis, his six-foot, two-inch frame was in pretty decent shape for one who had lived nearly six and a half decades. Having the services of a full time live-in physician helped, but so did the decent set of genes that he had inherited from his parents. While wondering if his mother and father would still be living if it wasn’t for the ravages of war and pestilence, Igor wiped his forehead dry with a handkerchief.

  Once again the distinctive cry of a boat whistle sounded, but this time it seemed to be much closer.

  Ready to continue now, he descended into a thicket of stunted pines and climbed up a hill formed partially of coarse sand. From this vantage point he could clearly see the glimmering waters of Koporski Bay. His dacha was also visible, perched on a hill with the bay before it.

  The cottage was simply constructed of native timber and stone. It had a modern kitchen, indoor bath facilities, two bedrooms, a living room, and Igor’s very favorite feature, a screened-in porch. Weather permitting, it was here that they would take their meals, watch the glorious sunsets form over the Gulf of Finland, and then linger long into the evening with the stars and the night wind for company. Since the sky still showed no signs of an advancing front, Igor planned to have today’s meeting out on the porch as well. But his guests would never even find the place if he didn’t hurry on down to the docks to greet them. He hurriedly began his way down the trail that would lead him to the pier.

  He was concentrating totally on his stride and almost missed sighting the three distant figures on the trail leading up the opposite valley. This was the route from the village to his dacha, and Igor could just make out the tall, stately figure of his wife leading two men up the graded pathway. The tallest of these two individuals had a big, round-shouldered frame and wore the distinctive blue uniform of a Soviet naval officer. Behind him followed a thin gentleman in a gray business suit.

  “Svetlana!” screamed Igor at the top of his lungs.

  This cry echoed throughout the valley and soon had its desired effect when the trio halted and turned to scan the countryside for the sound. Igor wildly waved his hands to catch their attentions, and it seemed to be his wife who first spotted him. She waved in return and so did the portly naval officer, whom Igor knew to be his old friend, Admiral of the Fleet Konstantin Markov.

  As they continued on toward the dacha, Igor crossed the valley to eventually rejoin them at the cottage. He could walk at a more moderate pace now just knowing that his guests were in good hands. Once again, Svetlana had stepped in to save the day. They had been married for forty years now, and Igor doubted he’d ever be able to live without her. Regardless of her own hectic schedule, she never failed to keep a warm, cozy house. Her cooking skills were superb, and she was one of the most considerate people that he had ever met. He should have known that Svetlana would be down at the docks to greet his guests when he didn’t show up at home earlier.

  He had just planned to go out on a sixty-minute hike.

  But that was well over three hours ago! Such was the price one paid when one detested wearing a watch, and was a consummate daydreamer.

  A quarter of an hour later, Igor was in the process of striding up the stone walkway that led to his dacha’s entrance, when the front door popped open and out walked Konstantin Markov. It was the Admiral of the Fleet who issued the first greeting.

  “Well, just look what the tide has washed in. I’m glad that you could find the time to join us, comrade.”

  This last sentence was delivered with such a serious tone that Igor feared that his guest was genuinely upset with his tardiness. Yet when Konstantin’s face lit up with a warm smile and he reached out with his arms spread wide, Igor knew otherwise.

  “Igor, old friend, it’s good to see you. When you didn’t show at the pier, and Svetlana explained that you never returned from your morning hike, we were afraid that a bear had taken off with you. But I knew all the time that if it was a bear that was causing your delay, he’d find your hide much too tough for his likes and eventually let you go.”

  They met with a hug and a series of kisses to each cheek.

  “Thanks for the concern, Konstantin, but I think that you’re right all the same. This old hide is getting a bit tough to make a decent meal of.”

  Igor playfully winked and both men let out a laugh.

  It was the Admiral of the Fleet who was the first to gain control of himself.

  “Has it really been six months since I’ve seen that ugly face of yours? Where does the time fly to, old friend? Why, it seems that only yesterda
y we were waltzing through the streets of Berlin with a gorgeous fraulein on each arm and not a care in the whole world between us.”

  “Where in the world did we go wrong,” returned Igor, who led his guest over to a small flower garden. Tulips could just be seen bursting from this plot as Igor continued.

  “So how did things go in Vladivostok, comrade?”

  Konstantin shrugged his massive shoulders.

  “It’s business as usual, what more can I say? I read the riot act to Admiral Petrov, who swore that he knew nothing about the inconsistencies that I spoke of. Yet as I was preparing to fly back to Moscow, I understand that the good admiral really laid it to his staff.”

  “You can bet that for the next couple of months all of them will be on their best behavior,” offered Igor.

  “Why of course,” returned the Admiral of the Fleet.

  “That’s what these surprise visits are all about. But we know that it’s only human nature at work. The greedy ones will get hungry once more, and start stealing supplies just like before. And then it will be necessary for me to again cross the width of the Motherland to make an example of someone.”

  While kneeling down to get a closer look at the bursting tulips, Konstantin Markov added, “What we need, comrade, is a real war. That will soon enough get the attention of those shirkers in the fleet. This cold war that we seem to be eternally in the midst of is causing us to lose our edge and go soft.”

  “Who knows, perhaps that’s what the Americans have planned all along,” reflected Igor.

  “It’s time for us to regain some momentum and readjust the world’s balance of power,” The Admiral of the Fleet gently stroked the bright red petals of the largest of the tulips as he responded.

  “My sentiments exactly. I had hoped that the project that you are responsible for would do just that. As I said before, your retrieval of the American Trident II warhead from the waters off Kwajalein was absolutely brilliant work.

  Even the Premier’s usually dour face lit up in a wide smile when he was briefed on the operation. As we speak now, the Imperialist’s most sophisticated weapon’s system is being dissected by our scientists, who will shortly be able to develop an effective decoy to counter this major component of their nuclear triad. But from what I read in yesterday’s briefings, our quest for their AD CAP torpedo didn’t go quite so smoothly.”

  A pained expression crossed Igor’s face as he replied.

  “That it didn’t, comrade. I had hoped that your visit here today would have an extra reason for celebration, but unfortunately that isn’t the case. At least we didn’t lose one of our units, and it appears that the security of our project is still intact as well.”

  “We were lucky all the same,” returned the Admiral of the Fleet with a grunt.

  “I just wish that we didn’t have to resort to laying those mines. The American Spruance class destroyer took a hit right on its bow. Though the casualties were minimal, the imperialists are angry as hell, and rightfully so.”

  “They still have no positive proof that we were the culprits,” offered Igor.

  “The mines were unmarked, and if they are indeed able to trace them, it will be found that they originated in China.”

  Konstantin Markov stood up and shook his head.

  “The Premier’s quite upset, nonetheless. From what I gather from Deputy Secretary Krasino, he wanted it to be made absolutely clear that he never again wants to be placed in such a potentially embarrassing situation.”

  “Our business does have its risks, Konstantin.”

  The Admiral of the Fleet compassionately patted his host on his back.

  “You don’t have to tell me that, comrade.

  These foolish young bureaucrats that we’re forced to work with don’t know what it’s like to fight in a real war. And what they refuse to understand is that our struggle against the forces of capitalism is just that. For there can be no compromise in the struggle for the triumph of world communism.”

  Igor’s spirits seemed to lighten.

  “Well said, old friend.

  Our esteemed Deputy Secretary inside wouldn’t happen to share your outlook, would he now?”

  Konstantin Markov looked at Igor as if he hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “Come now, you know better than that. Stanislav Krasino is still on the side of the moderates, just like he’s always been. Yet of all those who sit on the Politburo, I believe he’s the one that we’ll have the best chance of reaching. So tell me, Igor, how have your powers of persuasion been lately?”

  “Shall we go in and find out?” offered Igor with a grin.

  “I’ve been waiting for some time now to find out what’s been going on in that head of yours,” confided the Admiral of the Fleet as he followed his host to the entryway.

  “After that Trident scheme, I don’t know what to expect from you next.”

  “That mission was only a warm-up,” said Igor as he opened the door for his guest.

  “The one I’m about to propose is going to go down as the greatest clandestine Spetsnaz mission of all time!”

  The two naval officers entered the dacha, and Igor briefly scanned the living room.

  “I’ll bet Svetlana is charming the Deputy Secretary on the patio. Follow me, Konstantin. It’s the cottage’s best feature.”

  Igor led the way down a hallway lined with framed landscape prints. They passed by the kitchen, which directly adjoined a large, airy room that offered a magnificent panorama of the waters of the gulf. The screened-in patio was tastefully decorated with rattan furniture. Seated in two of the chairs were the dacha’s hostess and Deputy Secretary Stanislav Krasino.

  Quick to realize that they had company, Svetlana Starobin looked up to greet the two newcomers.

  “So you finally made it back after all, husband.”

  Igor meekly walked over to her side and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’m sorry, my dearest. As always time has a way of escaping me whenever I take one of my seaside strolls.” Turning to address the bespectacled, fuzzy-haired bureaucrat who sat beside her, Igor added, “And I apologize to you also. Comrade Krasino.”

  The two men shook hands while the Deputy Secretary responded.

  “There’s no need for apologies, Admiral Starobin. Your wife has been the perfect hostess. Why, I never realized that she was the Chief of Staff of Komsomol hospital. My own cousin is a resident there, and she speaks most highly of the organization.”

  Svetlana caught her husband’s eye.

  “You remember Dr. Olav, don’t you, dear? She’s the cardiologist who gave you the stress test.”

  “Of course I do,” returned Igor.

  “She was a most competent physician, and if I remember correctly, a real looker too.”

  Svetlana gave her husband a disgusted look and stood.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to the kitchen and bring in the lunch. I hope all of you are hungry.”

  “I happen to be famished,” retorted Igor, who devilishly grinned as his wife exited the porch.

  “That one’s a gem,” he added, as he beckoned the Admiral of the Fleet to have a seat.

  Konstantin Markov sat down in the chair vacated by Svetlana. With his gaze locked on the glistening waters visible in the distance, he thoughtfully observed, “You mentioned that the view was superb from this room, but I had no idea how incredible it really was. I bet on a clear day you can almost see the coast of Finland from this vantage point.”

  “I saw it only this morning,” boasted Igor.

  “Although I must admit that I had a little help with my telescope.”

  Deputy Secretary Krasino adjusted the fit of his glasses and politely commented.

  “This is my first visit to this portion of the Rodina, and I must admit that I’m quite impressed. I was expecting nothing but swampy marshland here.”

  “We have plenty of that too, Comrade,” answered Igor.

  “But as you can see on the adjoining
shoreline plenty of sea grass pines, and birch trees also.”

  “From what I understand, your czar and founder of the Russian navy Peter the Great was no stranger to Koporski Bay,” reflected the Admiral of the Fleet.

  “I once read in one of his diaries that he kept a small sailboat stored in these parts, and liked to get off here alone whenever the pressures in St. Petersburg got too intense.”

  Igor seemed surprised at this.

  “I didn’t know that, Konstantin. I wonder where he kept this boat, and where he stayed during his visits. You must show me this diary next time we get together.”

  “I’d be glad to, Igor. I have a copy right in my own library and would love to share it with you. Our beloved Peter was quite a fellow. Even I’ve been able to learn a little more about naval tactics by reading his memoirs.

  That one was years before his time.”

  “And thank goodness for that,” replied Igor.

  “Otherwise there’s no telling how long Russia would have kept its doors closed to Europe and the rest of the world.”

  Deputy Secretary Krasino was all set to convey his opinion when Svetlana arrived with a tray of food. The bespectacled bureaucrat immediately stood to help her with this platter heaped with all sorts of appetizing delicacies.

  “Why thank you, Comrade Krasino,” said Svetlana, who readily accepted her guest’s gracious assistance.

  “Could you please set it down on the coffee table?”

  “Of course, Comrade Doctor,” answered the bureaucrat.

  Noting that she had the full attention of her husband and his visitors, she hurriedly addressed them.

  “I know it’s not much, but it should serve to tide you over until dinner. There’s smoked salmon, herring with sour cream and onions, fresh tongue, black bread, and some cheese blini that I cooked myself.”

  “I can personally vouch for the blini,” interceded Igor, as he hungrily eyed the platter.

  “They’re as sweet and delicate as a loving wife’s heart.”

  Svetlana couldn’t help but smile at this remark.