I was just about to let that monster square off with Troyak, he thought, and God only knows what might have happened there in the Helo Bay if the Captain had not come along.
He understood what Karpov was saying to him now. Yes, he was Chief of the damn Boat, and yet there he was, wrangling for a girly magazine with Zykov, a fucking Corporal, just as Karpov said. Orlov was suddenly ashamed of himself, and knew what Karpov was trying to say to him. He had to start acting like the officer he was.
“Fedorov?” said Karpov. “Explain.”
“Well, you asked me to keep an eye on him sir, and go have a little chat with him. We both know he was mouthing off on the bridge, and I had a mind to swat the man down right then, except the Admiral was there.”
“You had a chat with Fedorov?”
“Of course, sir. I told you all about it. You said you suspected he was a mole, but I thought he was something worse—a goddamned Zampolit, even though they say we don’t have that sort aboard any longer. Yet look how he was sticking his nose into things the minute that accident happened.”
“Go on,” said Karpov, listening with his eyes closed now, thinking. “Tell me about this meeting you had with Fedorov again. I’ve been so busy that I forgot all about it.”
“I sat down with him, and told him to mind his mouth, but the little shit had some backbone. I guess he thought he had the Admiral’s protection. I went to put the fear of the Lord into him, but he as much as told me to go fuck myself. You were right about him, Captain. He’s different now. He isn’t the same man at all, at least not the nerdy little rat he was before all this happened. You want my take on it? I still think he’s a stinking Zampolit. How else would he know all the things he’s been spouting? He can’t get everything out of his history books. Why did he ask us to investigate that outpost on Jan Mayen? Was that a setup of some kind?”
“Tell me about Jan Mayen again.” Karpov’s eyes opened now, like the dark eyes of a snake, watching, marking its prey.
“You heard my report, sir. The whole place was gone—not destroyed as you thought—but simply gone. All we found there was that tiny little weather station, not the big MET facility that should have been there. All we found were those two Norwegians and their damn dog. You saw that identity card I gave you.”
“Identity card?”
“Yes sir, the one Troyak found on one of the Norwegians. You said yourself that Fedorov predicted that was exactly what we would find, right down to the man’s name. You still have that card?”
Karpov took a long breath. “I put it aside,” he said. “Too much going on of late to worry about things like that. Refresh me again, Chief. What was it Fedorov predicted?”
“The whole damn thing! The Norwegians, their dog, and even that man’s name. It was right there on the ID card I fetched. So that was when you became suspicious of that little rat—Fedorov and his secret little code signals to the Royal Navy. You know he put Nikolin up to that. I choked that out of our young communications officer when you told me to see what was going on with Fedorov.
Karpov nodded. “Yes, Chief, that brawn of yours is good for some things now and again. But use it with a well measured cup.”
Karpov realized a good deal here. His other self had been more than annoyed with Fedorov’s behavior. He was becoming very suspicious of the man. Now the Captain began to reason it all out. Fedorov was different… Fedorov had spoken out of place on the bridge, curried favor with Volsky, conspired with Nikolin to send secret coded messages to the Royal Navy, and more… he had predicted things that would happen, almost as if he had lived through them all before….
Just like I have, thought Karpov. Oh, he covered his tracks very well just now when I met with him. He’s very clever, very resourceful, but he hasn’t taken the full measure of me just yet. He doesn’t know who he is dealing with. I wonder, does he know I am not the man he left aboard this ship when he went ashore with Volsky? Did he buy my little ploy with the gauze on my cheek? I wonder…
“As to Fedorov,” said the Captain. “I just had a chat with him myself. Yes, do keep an eye on him, Chief, but be very discrete about it. Don’t square off to him, or make it obvious that you’re watching him. And by all means, don’t threaten the man. If he is up to something, we need to catch him in the act. Don’t bluster about and play right into his game. You forget how smart he is.”
“Too smart,” said Orlov sourly. “When he gave me that lip in the dining hall, I wanted to put my fist right down his throat.”
“That’s the sort of impulse you must learn to control,” said Karpov. “Remember what I said, Chief—stars and bars. That’s where your authority lies on this ship, and that is why I don’t want you to take Grilikov with you on your daily rounds. You don’t need Grilikov, or even your surly temperament to get what you want done, you just need those stars and bars. Give an order, be professional about it, and if it doesn’t stick, then come to me. All it will take is one little transgression, and a man called in here to sit across that table with me before they learn their lesson—that when you open your mouth on this ship, you are speaking with authority that descends from god almighty on high—that’s me. I am the final authority on this ship, not Grilikov, not Troyak and his Marines, not those sixty security men I brought aboard at Severomorsk. They all answer to me. Understand?”
“Yes sir. But Zykov was being a real smart ass.”
“Perhaps so, but you made the mistake of elevating him to your level in the way you handled the matter, or worse, you got down on his level. What you should have done is go to Troyak. Chain of command, Orlov, chain of command. Troyak handles the Marines. Zykov gets out of line, you walk over to Troyak and damn well let him know about it. If you don’t feel that settles the matter, then you come to me.”
“Understood, sir. I can see what I did wrong now.”
“Good… Now as to Fedorov, be discreet; be cautious. For that matter, be clever about this situation. If he is more than he seems, he’ll be very sly about what he does on this ship. Watch him, but out of the corner of your eye.”
“I will, sir.”
“Good, because you are more important now than you realize, Chief. You are a very essential cog in the works here, and there is something that I must tell you now—something very important. Every man on this ship will know about it tomorrow, but tonight, I tell it to you personally. Fedorov knows. Yes, he’s already figured things out, and in that he was correct all along.”
“You mean all that crap about the ship being back in WWII?”
“Exactly.”
“Come on, sir…” The Chief smiled, but the look on Karpov’s face was so serious that it fell away in an instant. “You mean it’s true? This is 1941, just like Fedorov says?”
“Correct. That accident with Orel blew the damn sub to pieces, and did something very much more. It ripped a hole in time and blasted us right through it—the whole damn ship. Were you up on deck when we pulled into Kola Bay?”
“No sir, I was below deck making sure everyone else was staying put. Admiral’s orders and all.”
“Yes, the Admiral was very clever about that too. It was almost as if he knew what we would find there, though I think he probably got that notion from Fedorov. Well it’s all true. The whole damn story is true. This is 1941, and that’s why there was nothing out there on Jan Mayen. Those facilities were never even built yet! And had you been up on deck, you might have seen that Severomorsk was not the way we left it—no, not at all. For now, since you didn’t see it with your own eyes, all you have is my word on the matter. But God’s truth, Chief. We’re in 1941.”
“Then… we can’t go home? Ever?”
“That remains to be seen, but for the moment we have work to do here.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re sailing east… To Vladivostok. We have business with the Japanese.” Now Karpov told Orlov the same things he had shared with Fedorov concerning the fragmented state of Russia, and the incursion the Japanese
had made in the east.
“You mean they pushed all the way to Lake Baikal? Damn…” Orlov was astounded.
“Yes, it is hard to believe, but that is what happens when you let your guard down. Someone was weak when he should have stood firm. Now the Japanese took all our eastern provinces. They have a nice little empire out there, with troops in China and even incursions into Tibet. And soon they will join the war, but we are sailing east to settle accounts, Orlov. You and I will set things right.”
“We will?”
“Of course. You are Chief of the Boat. Don’t you understand? There is no Severomorsk back there any longer—at least not the one we left. There’s no one we answer to now. That whole reeking structure of the upper naval command is gone! I am now the final authority concerning the fate of this ship and crew, and you, as Chief of Operations, are my right arm on this ship. So I need you to stand up now, get a grip on all of this, and get ready for what lies ahead.”
“My God… What are we going to do?” Orlov gave the Captain a wide eyed look now, waiting.
“Let me put this in terms you might understand,” said Karpov. “I’ve read your file. It’s no secret that you were once thick as thieves with the Russian Mob, the Bravta, the brotherhood. Yes, I know all about it. The brotherhood goes all the way back to the time of the Tsars. They ran the Gulags for Stalin, though I’ll tell you more about him later, and they ran quite a bit more as the decades past. You know the structure. Every gang has the Pakhan at the top, the big boss, the ‘Godfather,’ just like in the movies. He controls the cells with his Brigadiers, and two spies, men no one knows, watch the Brigadiers to keep them in line. Then comes the Sovietnik, the chief councilor and advisor for the Pakhan, and the Brigadiers run all the Boeviks beneath them, the warriors in the cells who get things done when so ordered. There are many kinds, the enforcers, contract killers, bodyguards. That was your job, yes? You were Byki, bodyguard for your Brigadier. Am I correct?”
Orlov nodded, wondering how all of that found its way into his personnel file. The navy knew more about him than he realized! “So I was Byki in the Grekov Group for an underboss, what of it?”
“Well you are about to get a promotion. Let me put it to you this way. I am Pakhan on this ship now, the big Boss, Godfather of the Northern Seas, and Volsky is out to pasture back in Severomorsk.”
Orlov smiled at that, a little bit of a sneer in his smile, for he often thought the Admiral was beyond his ‘sell by’ date, though he never dared say as much.
“Now then… Grilikov is Byki to me. Understand? He covers my back, and he is absolutely loyal. I will explain how I knew this man before, but there’s no time to get into that now. Let’s just say that if I told Grilikov to cut off his balls and eat them, he would. Enough said on that. But now we come to you, Orlov. Grilikov is Byki, so you get a new job. I’m bumping you up to Kassir, the man of authority, the bookmaker, the man who collects from all the Brigadiers. And guess what, you won’t be running a small group of six to ten cells, like you might back home in Saint Petersburg with the Grekov Group. No. Beneath you is the entire crew of this ship, and you are Kassir, Chief of the Boat. Understand? The other officers like Rodenko and Samsonov, and even Troyak, well, they are your Brigadiers, and the men beneath them are all Boeviks and Shestyorkas in those Brigades, the warriors, runners, messenger boys, you get the drift. We call them mishman and matocks. Some are torpedo men, missile men, and you know who they are. Others are messenger boys like Nikolin.”
“What about Fedorov?”
“Funny you should mention him,” Karpov smiled. “He’s too damn smart to be a Shestyorka, but he doesn’t have the temperament to be a warrior, or even a Brigadier. He might make a good Soveitnik, a councilor for me once I vet the man thoroughly. So you get another job in that for me. You are my spy keeping an eye on Fedorov.”
“Right,” Orlov nodded, instinctively leaning in closer to Karpov now, as though he was taken into the confidence of his old Pakhan back in Saint Petersburg, and being given a very important job. He always did think of himself as more than a simple muscle man, even though he never got that high in any mob structure, until he joined the navy. Karpov was putting things in terms he inherently understood, and the situation was very clear to him when the Captain proceeded.
“As to the Japanese, think of them as a rival gang, and a big one, a very dangerous one. They’ve been welching on the agreement they struck with us after the Russo-Japanese war. They’ve moved into our territory, busted up our cells out east, and took over all that business. They run our old neighborhoods and districts, and by God, I won’t stand for that any longer.”
“Damn right,” said Orlov.
“Good… You understand, and now you know why we are sailing east. This ship has a new Pakhan, and you’re looking at him. And this ship has power—real power, Chief. I’m going to use it, carefully, at just the right time and place, and I’m going to run the damn Japanese out of Vladivostok and every other territory they took from us. You are the only other man I’ve spoken to about this. You are my number one, Kassir.
“What about Rodenko?” asked Orlov.
“I need to see how he plays the game. Frankly, being Kassir in a gang like this is a great deal of responsibility, and only you really understand how it should work. So that is why you need to step up now, and act like a man with real authority. A little push or a shove may be necessary at times, but remember what I said.”
“Stars and bars,” said Orlov.
“Exactly. I think we have an understanding.” Karpov smiled.
Part II
Disclosure
“Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.”
― Jane Austin
Chapter 4
When Fedorov appeared at his door, Doctor Zolkin was very happy to see him. “Come in!” he said with a warm smile. “You know, I was meaning to speak with you, Mister Fedorov. I trust you are feeling well? No more headaches?”
“Quite well, sir. I’m my old self.” Even as he said that, Fedorov could not escape the irony. Where was his old self, the man who might have come here in his place before the hand on Time’s clock struck that Paradox? He still felt a strange sense of guilt, for everything now, but even more keenly in thinking he was responsible for the death of his own self.
“Good,” said Zolkin, “because I was very remiss in not properly attending to you. Yes, the line at my door was quite long after that incident in the Norwegian Sea, but that is no excuse. Forgive me, Fedorov. I should have provided you with better care. And another thing… That P.A. announcement by the Captain this morning. It sounded like you two have reached an accommodation.”
“Yes sir, for the moment. He wanted me to go about the ship and speak with the crew. I’ll get to that in time, but I thought it best to begin with the officers, and you were first on my list.”
“What is this all about? News of the Admiral? I hope nothing has happened.”
How to begin, thought Fedorov? “Sir, I went ashore with Admiral Volsky, at his request. There we were met with a security team, and strangely, the Captain appeared. There was a letter from Moscow. The Admiral was relieved of command.”
“What? Because of that accident?”
“Partly, but that is just the beginning of the story.” He took a deep breath. “Doctor Zolkin, you heard my interpretation of these events, and what I believe happened, yet I am thinking you attribute my tale to some aberrant mental state—to that fall I took, hitting my head.”
Zolkin folded his arms, nodding. “I will be frank with you and say that I did have a growing concern about you, and all the more reason for me to have seen to your care.”
“Well sir… I have been asked to deliver some news to the entire crew, and you will find it quite shocking. To be blunt about it, my assessment of what has happened to us has now been proven correct.” He left that there, watching
closely to note Zolkin’s reaction.
“You mean that story you told us about WWII? The Captain asked you to explain that all to the crew? Mister Fedorov, the last time I saw that man he was fairly well convinced that you were a lunatic, or worse, a traitor concocting this story as a means of covering up your complicity with the British.”
“Yes, sir. But he no longer believes that, because everything I have said was proved correct, and the Captain has finally accepted those facts. You may ask him yourself.”
“Proven? You mean this moon business? What are you talking about?”
Now Fedorov shared his story of the mission ashore, making a detailed description of the condition of the harbor, the city virtually gone. Zolkin had a strange look on his face, for he had heard much the same, in whispered confessions from crewmen who had caught a glimpse of the harbor from their stations, particularly the men who were assigned to the boat launch detail, and one of the Marines, Zykov. The man had been in here saying something terrible had happened to Severomorsk, and he thought it was war, but he seemed very confused. Could it be true? Could all the rest of Fedorov’s story be true along with it?
“You’re asking me to believe that this is now 1941?”
“I know you were down here, below decks, and you didn’t see anything of what I have described, except that moon I pointed out when I spoke with you and the Admiral. If it is any comfort to you now, Doctor, I will also tell you that the Admiral accepted all of this. He was finally convinced.”
“But then who sent that recall order?” Zolkin protested. “I know he was tussling with all of this, but that was the one objection he could not seem to overcome.”
“We solved that at Severomorsk. And now I must tell you something even stranger about all of this. But I will begin by saying this to you. While we were ashore, the Admiral told me to come to you with all of this, and to ask that you believe me in every respect. I have said he was convinced of this truth, by the evidence of his own eyes at Severomorsk. I know you were both long time friends, and so I ask you to have faith that what I say to you now is true.”
Winter Storm Page 3
