The shadow war

by Glen Scott Allen

  "Fighting watch alpha," said a staticky voice from the speaker.

  "Fighting watch alpha aye," said Leverotov.

  "Alert canceled. Repeat, alert canceled. Stand down. Repeat, stand down."

  "Alert canceled confirmed," replied Leverotov. "Fighting watch alpha out."

  He moved his hand to his key, looked over to Orlov, waiting for him to do the same.

  Orlov looked over at Leverotov. "That's not-"

  "Your key, Captain Orlov," Leverotov said.

  Orlov raised his hand to his own key. Once again, Leverotov counted down from three to one; once again, they turned their keys simultaneously, this time counterclockwise, back to Lock.

  "Now," said Leverotov, "make your record. They'll be cracking the hatch soon, I want to be on time."

  Orlov shrugged, pulled a logbook toward the edge of the panel, began writing down figures. He happened to glance again at the instrument panel. "What the hell?" he said.

  Leverotov looked at his own panel. On both sides, a red light was blinking.

  The two men looked at each other. Leverotov immediately leaned forward, pressed the button for the intercom.

  But before he could say anything, Orlov said, "Wait!" He pointed at the red light in front of him, which had stopped blinking. Leverotov looked at his; it was now off, too.

  They could hear the sounds of men on the other side of the oval door, unlocking its mechanism.

  "What do you think?" asked Orlov. "Should we report it?"

  Leverotov thought a moment. "Let me… look into it," he said. "I will let you know."

  And then the hatch to the room was opened, and the process of handing over their records and keys began.

  CHAPTER 44

  The light in the basement of the church had dimmed a little as clouds moved overhead and blocked the sun. Nikolai was leaning back in his chair, while Benjamin sat forward in his. Benjamin realized his body had gone stiff with tension while he listened to Nikolai's story.

  "Anton said something about 1968, about it being the time we truly came closest to nuclear war. But in the U.S. we never heard of this."

  "Of course not," said Nikolai. "You didn't really care about the rebellion. It was all… theater to you."

  "And this mysterious red light during the drill, this glitch… what did Leverotov find out about it?"

  "Before I answer that question, there's something you must understand," Nikolai said.

  Nikolai told Benjamin the same thing Anton had: after the Cuban Missile Crisis, a new protocol for the Soviet nuclear forces had been issued. And that protocol changed the way their missiles were targeted. Before that, each missile stored its individual target and guided itself once it was launched. But under the new protocol, Strategija Chetyre, the targeting codes were transmitted from Moscow Center only after the missiles were launched.

  "That red light," Nikolai said. "It meant the targeting codes were being transmitted then, before launch. And next thing we know, new message comes from Moscow. Cancel alert. Stand down. Only 'training exercise.' All damn strange."

  Then he explained to Benjamin that his early training at the military academy had been that of an engineer, as were most of the other rocketchiki, so he and his comrades were intimately knowledgeable about even the most technical details of their nest of nuclear-tipped ICBMs.

  "More than just fingers on buttons," he said. "We must understand fuel, circuits, electronics… everything."

  He told Benjamin that Vladimir Sergeyevitch Leverotov was someone who knew the insides of the rockets and all the facilities better than anyone. But this particular "bright guy" had come not from the Academy, like Nikolai, but rather from the Ministry of Defense. He'd graduated university as a mathematician before joining the Red Army, and then been assigned to something called the 12 Directorate in the Ministry of Defense.

  "Anton mentioned that," Benjamin interrupted. "He said-"

  "Please, wait," Nikolai said.

  Nikolai and Leverotov had become fast friends. They were both ardent believers in the mission of the rocketchiki, which Nikolai described as "guarding the whole planet from the aggression of imperialistic states." Nikolai and Leverotov had had frequent discussions about the importance of what they were doing, about their "ideological certainty" that it was right and, more important, patriotic.

  But Benjamin was still dealing with something else Nikolai had said.

  "You actually believed NATO would attack? Over Czechoslovakia?"

  "I know what you are thinking," Nikolai said. "Did we really believe we were the good guys, you were the bad guys?" Nikolai gave him a very serious look. "And would I have used this terrible weapon? The answer is yes, absolutely. We believed. And for those four weeks, with Czechoslovakia in chaos, we were very close to edge of making belief into reality."

  The Czech crisis lasted another two weeks. By the time it was over, Nikolai told them, everyone of the underground watch group was exhausted, just wanted to go home. Nobody talked about the "glitch." It was considered unpatriotic to even suggest something had gone wrong.

  But in the month after that, Nikolai noticed a change in Leverotov's behavior. He seemed preoccupied. He no longer told jokes, didn't participate in the political discussions in the relaxation building. He performed his duties, but something seemed to have dampened his spirit.

  "More robot than true rocketchiki, " Nikolai said. And after that Leverotov spent more time than ever checking the "sausages," going over their circuits, running tests.

  Nikolai said he was used to people lying to one another, hiding their true feelings; that was all part of the system, a part of it he eventually came to despise. But with Leverotov, he felt it was something more than that.

  One day, after another drill, they were in the changing room together. Nikolai approached Leverotov, began talking about the drill. Finally he came out and asked Vladimir: Had he lost his belief? If the time came, would he still press the white button?

  "You know what he answered?" Nikolai said. "He said, 'Yes, Nikolai, I would, without hesitation.' Of course he would say that. Microphones everywhere, someone always listening. But he is telling truth, I can tell. Then he looked very pechalno, very sad, and he said, 'But not for reason you would.' "

  "What on earth did he mean?" Benjamin asked.

  Nikolai shrugged. "Don't know. And never get chance to find out. Because of 'glitch,' KGB comes to investigate. To find somebody to blame. When mistake happens, always has to be a name for Moscow. Understand?"

  "Yes," said Benjamin, "I think I do."

  "Well," Nikolai went on, "day KGB comes to Uzhur-4, I'm nervous, of course. But I did my job, I think, it's okay. But Vladimir, I guess he didn't think same way."

  "Why?" asked Benjamin.

  "Because that day, before KGB talks to him, he shoots himself."

  Natalya, who had sat silently through Nikolai's story and the two men's conversation, now spoke up.

  "I remember something Mother told me," she said. "Something about you being absent for a month, instead of the usual ten days. And I remember, too, she said perhaps a month later, you returned from the base very quiet. You never told her why."

  "As I said," Nikolai went on, "Vladimir was good friend. Such a thing, among the rocketchiki… well, it was very bad. Very bad. Of course, KGB talk to everyone, take all his things. Many people reassigned after that, sent to other bases, including me."

  "Until you retired," said Benjamin. "Natalya told me about your… research."

  Nikolai looked down at the floor. "Yes, that was part of it."

  "Not all of it?" Natalya asked, coming closer.

  Nikolai looked up at her, reached out for her hand.

  "I could not tell you, Natashka. I could not tell your mother. I could not tell anyone. "

  "Tell us what?" she asked, taking his hand.

  Nikolai stood, went over to an empty chair. He picked up a small metal box, brought it back to them.

  He held the box before them and slo
wly lifted the lid.

  "About these," he said. "I call them my relics. And now, in this place, it seems a very good name."

  Nikolai reached inside the box, took out two small objects. Benjamin noticed that he handled them as though they were indeed holy relics.

  Nikolai held the objects out in his palm.

  They were a crumpled, empty cigarette pack and a small wooden box for matches.

  After Nikolai explained to them how he'd discovered them in his dress uniform tunic the day after Leverotov's suicide, he let Benjamin examine them.

  The cigarette pack was green and blue, with " " (Shipka) stenciled on it in white letters. The matchbox had a red label with a picture of two raised hands, one with a hammer and the other with a sickle, a miniature rocket rising over them.

  Benjamin shook the matchbox. Something inside rattled.

  "Open it," Nikolai said.

  Carefully, Benjamin slid the cover back. Inside, he could see matches, each with a blue tip, except for one.

  "Thirty-four," said Nikolai, "counting the headless one. Now remove them."

  Benjamin tilted the matchbox and dumped the matches into his other hand. He looked inside.

  "What the-"

  "Yes," said Nikolai. "Not typical, is it."

  "What?" said Natalya.

  Benjamin was still looking at the writing and symbols inside the matchbox.

  He could make out lines, squiggles, triangles, squares, and other geometric shapes-and in the center of the bottom, the words " Stzenariy 55 " were written in tiny, precise letters.

  "Have you any idea what this means?" Natalya asked. She held the matchbox, still examining the interior.

  Benjamin realized he was gripping the matches loosely in his fist, and he quickly opened his hand, afraid he might rub two of them together and ignite the bunch. He handed them to Natalya and then walked away a bit and began pacing back and forth in the opposite stall, his head down, his arms crossed, deep in thought.

  "Well," Nikolai said, "there are some interesting points. And I have had considerable time to think it over." He smiled, went on. "You notice, on the matchbox, there is something written."

  "Yes," said Natalya. "This number thirty-four."

  "Well, maybe coincidence, but that is number of missiles in Uzhur-4 nest."

  "But that's also the number of matches in the box," Natalya said.

  "Not at first," said Nikolai. "All such matchboxes, they contain forty matches. Exactly. Everything in the nest is counted, believe me."

  "Then what about this one?" Natalya held up the headless match.

  "Ah," said Nikolai. "When I said thirty-four missiles, I meant there were supposed to be thirty-four missiles, when base complete. They built last silo, but never put in its sausage. So, maybe headless match means…"

  "Empty silo," finished Natalya.

  "Maybe," said Nikolai.

  Natalya then held out the cigarette pack. "But then why give you this, with no cigarettes?"

  "Well, could call Vladimir stingy bastard," Nikolai joked. "Or maybe, is what on pack is important."

  Natalya looked at the lettering. "Shipka?" she said.

  "You remember your Russian history?" Nikolai asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Natalya thought for a moment.

  "It is 1877. Russian Army defeats Suleiman's Turkish Army at the Shipka Pass, in Bulgaria." She looked at the cigarette pack. "That's the Shipka Monument," she said, "at the pass."

  "High marks," said Nikolai.

  Natalya shook her head. "I do not understand. Shipka is in Bulgaria. What does it have to do with Uzhur in Siberia?"

  "Remember, in my story, there was relaxation area? Building near surface, but covered in dirt and trees, to camouflage? We used to joke, this was where we turn back imperialist aggressors. We called it 'Shipka of Siberia.' "

  At that, Benjamin looked up from his pacing and thinking.

  "So, Leverotov was telling you there was something in that building, something he'd hidden there for you to find."

  Nikolai shook his head, frowning. "I look, believe me, before I'm reassigned. And KGB, after Vladimir shoot himself, they go over whole complex with, what you call, thin-teeth comb."

  "Fine-tooth comb," said Benjamin, but he'd already turned and bent his head in thought again.

  "And these markings inside the matchbox?" Natalya asked.

  Nikolai went to her and took the matchbox from her.

  "Well, Vladimir engineer. I think these are symbols for electronic circuit. Probably thought I would know what they mean. Some code for wiring, or maybe computer program…"

  "And?" asked Natalya.

  Nikolai looked at her, smiled sadly.

  "I don't know. Could never figure them out. For circuit, doesn't make sense."

  "What we need," sighed Natalya, "is one of those capitalist treasure maps, with little dotted lines pointing to where the treasure is buried."

  Benjamin stopped pacing.

  He was thinking of something Samuel had said, back at the Foundation, something about there was no "X marks the spot" to solve this mystery.

  Or maybe there is, he thought.

  He walked over and took the matchbox from Nikolai, looked again at the tiny symbols.

  "Natalya," he said, "remember that mural, in the lobby of the hotel in Dubna?"

  "Yes," she said. "But what does that-"

  Benjamin looked up at them. He was almost afraid to say out loud what he was thinking.

  "You said those geometric shapes were symbols," he said, speaking very slowly. "Symbols for places in and around Dubna. You said it was a kind of art popular in the sixties, but that it was also a map."

  He looked at Nikolai. "This all happened in that period, correct? In the sixties?" Nikolai nodded. Benjamin took a deep breath.

  "Then what if this isn't some odd circuit diagram that cannot be solved without a special key. What if it's simply… a map?"

  Natalya and Nikolai exchanged looks of surprise.

  Nikolai took the matchbox from Benjamin and looked once again at the drawing inside, walking a few paces away from them deep in thought.

  "But why a map?" Natalya asked Benjamin. "Why not just write what he wanted to tell my father?"

  "Perhaps he was afraid it would be found, and wanted to put it in a way only your father would understand."

  Natalya shook her head, unconvinced. "But he did not understand. And why a map? They were both engineers. A circuit diagram would be much more likely, a reference to something only they knew…"

  "Perhaps it is something only they knew. Some place or-"

  "Tchert!" Nikolai stopped his pacing. He turned to them. "I am an idiot!"

  He walked back, stood next to them.

  "Here, look." He held the matchbox where they could both see inside.

  "If this circle, where the diagram begins, is Shipka building-our little joke-then this squiggle could be service tunnel from it to… and then this would have to be…"

  He chewed at his mustache, thinking through possibilities.

  After a moment he looked up at them-but with defeat rather than triumph in his eyes.

  "Yes, I know where this could be," he said solemnly. "Now I understand. And makes perfect sense. It is where I would hide something."

  "And?" asked Benjamin.

  "And it might as well be on the moon."

  CHAPTER 45

  Natalya and Benjamin looked at Nikolai, stunned.

  "But… why?" Natalya asked.

  "Because is shakhta… how is in English… silo," Nikolai said in frustration. "Thirty-fourth missile silo. Damn headless-match silo!"

  "Are you sure?" asked Benjamin.

  Nikolai calmed down. "I must look at map of base to be certain. But yes, for now, I think I am sure. This…" and he used one of the matches to indicate the final symbol in Leverotov's sketch, "is where silo would be, from Shipka building."

  "But if we can't get there," Benjamin asked, "how did Leverotov reach it?"


  "From inside, where he could turn off alarms. Maybe he thought I would figure it out while still rocketchiki, still have access," he said. "Guess I'm not as smart as he thought."

  "But that was almost forty years ago," said Benjamin. "And if there's no missile inside, even now…"

  "Even if no sausage inside, on outside is still electric fence, mines, cameras… It is impossible to even get close to this silo from outside. Whatever is secret there will stay secret there."

  Nikolai turned aside, looking angry and dejected.

  Bejamin and Natalya looked at each other, neither knowing what to say. To have come this far, gone through this much, risked everything… all to be stopped cold now…

  "Nikolai," Benjamin said, "you said even he would have had to turn off the alarms, even when he was inside. Does that mean this fence and these mines and cameras on the outside can be turned off, too?"

  "Yes," Nikolai said, not turning around. "But as I said, only from inside complex. And we would never get inside. There are too many checks, too much security…"

  "But if we could turn off those things," Benjamin continued, "then it would be possible to access the silo from the outside?"

  Nikolai nodded. "Yes. What is here is, I think, tunnel next to silo, for equipment. There is hatch at top, can be opened from outside."

  Benjamin forced a smile and an optimistic tone. "Then all we need is help from someone inside the complex. Someone to turn off those cameras and other things."

  Nikolai turned, looked at him, laughed. "Is all we need?"

  "Well…" Benjamin wouldn't give up, not now. "Do you still know anyone stationed there?"

  Nikolai thought a moment.

  "Well… yes," he said, nodding slowly. "Vasily Kalinin. Lieutenant Colonel Vasily Kalinin. I knew him when he was just Lieutenant Kalinin, some years my junior. Now he is in charge of security. He was good man, we trust each other." Nikolai looked up at Benjamin, frowned again. "But what we would ask of him, he would not do."

  "But it is just an empty silo," Natalya said. "There is nothing there to protect."

  "Let me think," Nikolai said. He walked away, then almost immediately turned around.