by Bob Thomas
“Watch out for the elbows. They’re pointy.” Sasha scooted away a bit, taking Polina’s advice.
“Finish up,” Donald announced as he entered the room. “We go room to room this afternoon.”
Ivan bent over at the waist, his eyes staring into the floorboards of the old building. He kicked at the broken wood with his boot.
“You’re dead because you didn’t see what was in the room,” Donald yelled. “You have to see what is there, not what you think might be there.”
“But…”
“But what? I was there the last time you looked in?” Donald walked past the tall lieutenant with a scowl. “That’s why you’re dead now.” The agent turned, looking up. “There’s a reason we’re not using ammo. You’ve got to think on your feet. You’ve got to be prepared for the unexpected and not what you think you’re going to see.
“We’ve been at this for hours, Donald,” Sasha said as he walked into the room. “We need a break.”
“No!” He spun, turning to face the mission commander. “You need to do this while you’re tired. Exhausted. If you get into a fight, you’ll already be tired.” Donald raised his voice for the second time. “You won’t be doing this fresh from a damn bed. You’ll be tired and hungry. If you can’t do it now, you can’t do it then. You’ve only got three days to learn this.” Donald looked back to Sasha. “You can do this now, or you can die later. Up to you.”
“Let’s take it from the top people,” Sasha yelled out. “Let’s get this right. We take everyone home upright with this one.” Sasha let his weapon fall to his side as the remaining members of the team filed in. “We keep going tonight until we can’t go any longer. Clear?”
USS Columbus
“How long before we get to the coordinates, Commander?” Captain Dawson stood in the entrance to the command center, watching his crew go about their business. His XO looked up from the waterfall display.
“Another day, sir. And no further communications on our mission, as yet anyway.”
“I’ll be back for my shift in an hour.” The captain turned away and began making his way to the mess. He might as well get something to eat before duty called. Not that he was ever off duty. That was the role of a boat’s captain. Always on. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he wondered. His last thought was punctuated by the overhead speaker.
“Captain to the conn.”
Dawson laid down the tray he had just taken from the stack, and sighed. He always seemed to be missing a meal. At least it felt that way. And from fighting off his cold, or whatever it was, skipping meals wasn’t helping. He left the mess and quickly made his way down the corridor and into the command center. He stood behind the XO seconds later.
“What’s up?”
“We have a mechanical noise off the port side.”
“How far away?”
“A thousand yards.”
“That’s pretty close. Conn, make your speed dead slow. Let’s see if we can get a hard fix on whatever it is.”
“Dead slow aye,” came the reply.
The next few minutes threw a pall over the command center with each seaman paying careful attention to their station. Dawson ducked his head inside the sonar room in front of the conn, watching as the sonar-man listened intently on his headphones. A tap on the shoulder brought a negative shake of the head. Just as he was about to step out, the seaman entered a sequence of commands into his computer station. His screen returned an ‘unknown’ display.
“Sir?” Dawson ducked his head back in as the seaman typed the contact as ‘Sierra 1’. “Contact is unknown in the system, sir.”
“Thanks Jason.” Dawson stepped back into the command center and relayed the news to the XO. “Do we have anything else on the contact?”
“Transient is moving northeast to southwest.”
“Very well. Let’s get a plot line started.”
“Do we follow? It’s a chance to get a make on a new sub, possibly.”
“Well,” Dawson said as he leaned against the bulkhead frame, “if this was your boat, are you hanging around a bit to get a trace, or are you following your orders and proceeding to your destination?”
“We’ll continue on our course, sir.”
“Why?”
“Our orders seem a bit out of the ordinary,” Tull said without hesitating. “This isn’t our part of the world. Something is up, and we’re on point to find out what.”
“What if this contact is what we’re supposed to be on point about?” Dawson smiled as he asked the question. Tull was a good officer, but he was young, completely lacking real-world tactical experience.
“But we don’t know that.” Tull looked down at the display, his mind churning. He hated when Dawson did this to him, but he knew it was necessary. “It would be a missed opportunity if this was why we were here and didn’t capitalize on it. All we can do is gather what intel we can as we proceed.”
“I’ll be back after I have something to eat,” Dawson said as he left the conn, his voice trailing off into the corridor.
Moscow
“Oh my God I’m tired,” Ivan said as he threw himself onto the bed.
“You’re the youngest one here. I’m the one who should feel dead,” Danil replied. “I haven’t done anything like that in, well, longer than I care to remember.” Captain Jenner simply fell onto the bed and was asleep in seconds, his clothes still on. Sasha stumbled in behind and plopped down in the wing-backed, upholstered chair. It wasn’t bed, but it was almost too comfortable to move from. He stretched his legs, sinking down as far as he could go.
“Danil.” Sasha kicked out, hitting Danil’s foot with his. “Wake up.” He kicked again. “Danil.”
“What?”
“You need to get some sleep.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“After the training tomorrow, you’ve got to check out the plane.”
Danil’s only reply was the sound of his snoring. But, Sasha wouldn’t have heard the answer anyway. He was fast asleep, slumped down into the chair.
Day Fifteen
The Kremlin
The wind whistled about the ancient walls; the weather blowing in from the top of the world pushed against the tarnished glass, panes that had been in place for over a century. Andrey felt winter’s grip tighten about him in his office. He shivered, pulling his cloak around his shoulders. His eye caught the bars that decorated his wool, military overcoat. It was still the warmest coat he owned. At least the USSR did something right. He kept it close in his office, but never venturing out with it. It was a keepsake, a reminder of where he’d come from, the hardships he had overcome on his march up the ranks.
He stared across his desk to the opposite wall, taking note of the dark paneling framing the single painting hanging in the stillness. It was a nice work, a painting by Akimov, an eighteenth century classical artist. But it wasn’t quite his style. He’d often wondered how it arrived here, long before his time. He was sure it was the handiwork of Soviet imperialists. He preferred a more modern style.
He slipped his hand into his pant pocket as he continued to stare, his fingertips feeling the crease of the paper folded within. He hadn’t looked at it since he boarded the plane to come home. He knew what it said; a number and ‘four days’. Today was the fourth day. He began to remove his hand, but the temptation was too strong. His fingers continued their dance before he could no longer fight the urge. His hand slipped from his pocket and up to the desk drawer on his left. His cell phone was in his palm seconds later. He didn’t need the paper. His thumb ran across the numbers as if he had dialed it a hundred times. In his mind, he had done so; 8-495-262-7626. Perhaps a thousand times. Two rings.
“Hello?” Andrey asked as the ringing stopped.
“Helikon Opera Theater. 48 hours.”
Andrey looked at his phone as the line went dead. That was it. It was over.
The North Sea
“All ahead slow.”
“All ahead sl
ow aye.”
“Bring her to periscope depth.”
The USS Columbus, a boat used to the touch of warm Pacific waters, within minutes slipped to its ordered depth below the dark waves just below the Arctic Circle.
“Up scope.”
The hydraulics pushed the periscope silently above the surface of the North Sea. The only trace of their presence was a light foam, lost in a turbulent night as the mast cut through the black water. Captain Dawson watched the monitors as the scope made its sweep. Long gone were the days of flipping down handles and peering with a backwards cap into a mirrored tube. Such was the stuff of movies. He could still do that if he wanted, but he could see better this way.
The communications mast was raised and retreated back into the boat in less than a minute. The captain of the boat leaned against the rail as he waited for the decoding. It would take less than two minutes for the equipment on board one of the most sophisticated warships in the world to decipher the message. Dawson picked up the mike, bringing it to his lips.
“XO to the conn.” He slipped the mike back down into its cradle as the communications officer turned in his seat.
“Sir.”
“Thanks.” Dawson took the paper just as Tull stepped into the conn and held it up. “Just came in.”
“What’s it say?”
The captain was quiet for a moment as he scanned the sheet. He looked up and extended his arm toward his XO. Tull nodded as he reached for the orders.
“Are they serious? Inside Danish territorial waters?”
“They do get mighty touchy about boats in their space,” Dawson said as he turned to give the coordinates to the dive officer. “Best speed Chums.”
“Aye sir.” Ensign Charlie ‘Chums’ Rose began the plot, entering the coordinates into the nav computers.
“You thought I was going to make you do this one on paper, didn’t you Chums?”
“No sir. Not this one. This isn’t just an exercise. This one’s important.”
“They’re all important, Chums.”
Moscow
“You sure cook up a mean breakfast, Jen.”
“Polina. My name is Polina.” She turned from the stove, leaning against the greasy oven handle. “And why are you speaking English? Russian. Only Russian.” She crossed her arms with a black spatula clasped in her hand.
“I just needed to.” Ivan leaned back in the wooden chair as he pushed his empty plate away. “Speaking Russian all the time was fun at first, but it’s getting old.”
“It’s only been a few days.” She turned away, tossing the spatula back into the pan.
“It feels like an eternity.”
“Where do you come from, Ivan? Why does a boy like you learn to speak Russian anyway?”
“Well,” he replied, as he locked his hands behind his head, “I just wanted a challenge. We needed to take a language course in school and I heard it was hard.” Ivan flashed his big smile as he looked at the Navy commander. “I was right. It was a bitch. But I got through it.”
“So you’re a smart boy.”
“Not smart so much as I just don’t quit. What about you? What’s a fine-lookin’ woman like you doing in the middle of Moscow in the winter?”
Lt. Commander Jen Lewis bristled at the compliment. It wasn’t something she was comfortable with. She considered herself more of a firebrand. Staying out of trouble in the Navy was becoming a full time job in itself. She was the one who usually started trouble, but she could also finish it, if need be. She wasn’t the type most tried to pick up in a bar, though she was more than comfortable in nearly any joint. Most of those guys shied away from her. They wanted someone easy, girlie. That wasn’t her, although she could rock a little black dress with the best of them.
“Sorry Lieutenant, I’m a little old for you.”
“Not what I meant, Commander. I mean, uhm.” Ivan swallowed hard, slightly embarrassed. “What I meant was, how did you come to be here?”
“I’m just here, Ivan.”
“Not just anyone does what we can do,” Ivan said as he leaned back. “We’re a small group. A very small, handpicked group. There are only a few of us that fit the profile. Soooo,” he grinned as he leaned forward again, “what’s your story?”
Polina sighed as she pushed herself away from the stove and pulled up a seat across from the young lieutenant. She propped her elbows up on the table, locking her fingers together, then place her chin on her hands. Ivan began to stare into her big, blue eyes, eyes he knew he could lose himself in. Her voice interrupted the thought he was beginning to form.
“I was quite the wild child. My momma was my best friend, but also my enemy. She did what she could trying to raise me, but there was always conflict. My father, whoever the hell he was, left when I was one. I never saw him. Never wanted to. I was in and out of trouble as a teen, the source of conflict, you understand.” Polina leaned back, crossing her arms below her chest. Ivan took notice, but pulled his eyes back up. “The final straw for my momma was when she got word one night of where I was. So, she comes storming into Lito’s Bar, a dive joint near the town where we lived, and there I was, jumping up and down on a pole in my underwear. The boys were hootin’ and hollerin’ and that was the end of the line for me. The next day, she dragged me to the Navy recruiter’s office the next town over.” She leaned forward again, laying her arms flat on the table as she flirtively stared into Ivan’s eyes. He was being drawn into her story. And, she was more than just cute.
“What a bunch of horse shit.”
Polina turned in her chair at the sound of Sasha’s voice. He entered the kitchen, making his way to the stove. She cocked her head back toward Ivan and grinned.
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Lieutenant.”
“And just how would you know that, Sasha?” Polina replied.
“As mission commander, I have a bit of info on all of you.” Sasha finished pouring his tea and faced the table. Ivan sat wide-eyed with his mouth slightly open. He was crushed.
“Damn,” Ivan replied as he let his forehead come down to touch the table.
“I’ll have another cup of tea,” Polina said as she stood, grinning slyly at the young lieutenant.
“You suck, Commander!” Ivan said with a big smile. He leaned his head back and just stared at the ceiling. “Man…”
The unofficial car pulled into the parking space, and of the few people that coursed across the openness of the boulevard that held the Helikon theater, none took notice. The retired general ordered his driver not to park in a reserved space. He wanted his driver to think there was nothing out of the ordinary, but he also didn’t want to call attention to himself. The sun was failing, the sky darkening as it dipped below the skyline letting winter’s last shadows slip into night.
Andrey closed the door to the unremarkable sedan and flipped up his collar. He’d decided to leave his official car parked at his residence. He wanted no acknowledgment of his presence, by anyone. The night was brisk, but even here, winter wouldn’t last forever. Another month he thought, was all that separated this world-class city from the thawing spring. He pulled his fedora down slightly on his forehead and began his walk toward the theater. To everyone around, he was nothing more than an old man walking on the streets. His driver was furious to be left behind.
“Keep walking.” The voice from behind startled him, but the old soldier didn’t break stride. “There’s a bench just ahead. Please, have a seat.”
Andrey shuffled along, his steps not as bold or steady as they once were. Nearly gone was the bearing of an Air Force general, replaced by the gait of a frail man, nearly bent from the whims of politics and the dangers of life in post-Soviet Russia. The small flakes swirled around him as he slid into the bench across the square from the theater.
“Do you have your phone, sir?”
Andrey fumbled around in his pocket before pulling out his cell. He handed it over with a gloved hand without ever looking at his guest.
�
�What will you do with it?”
“By attaching this device to the back, we’ll be able to track any calls.”
“You will be able to trace it?” Andrey looked at the tall man beside him for the first time. “How can that be?”
“No sir, not actively.” He turned to Andrey and placed the phone back in his hand. “When you’re called again, we’ll have something to go on. Then we’ll meet again so I can retrieve this and we’ll know where to begin.”
“You have been in Moscow for some time, I would presume.”
“Yes sir. Part of the game.”
“A game it is to you?”
“It has always been a game, General.” Donald spun on the bench and faced Andrey. “It is the only thing that keeps me sane. We are not so different. We are just in different places on the chess board. You’re a bishop, I’m a knight.”
“I’m getting too old for this.” Andrey looked around the square as the lights of the city began to take hold of the night. “This is the second time I have now been sitting on a bench in the middle of winter. It is not something I am fond of, you understand.”
“I understand, General.” Donald slid his hands back into his coat to ward off the cold. “When they call again, dial the number. We’ll find a place to meet.” He stood, letting his long wool coat fall to its full length.
“Once this is over, you’ll not be able to stay in my country.”
“That is a possibility, General.” Donald looked down as the wind whipped across the plaza. “This is a young man’s job. Perhaps I have outlived my usefulness here.” Donald braced his shoulders against the cold and looked into the night sky, the flakes becoming visible only as they fell below the street lights. His footsteps were soon lost in winter’s gathering night.
