by Len Levinson
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Scared?”
“Not very.”
They climbed the ladderwell and went up on deck. It was a clear night and a half-moon floated in the sky, shining on the smooth waters of the Black Sea. Captain Wilkerson and one of his officers were on the starboard side of the deck, looking into the distance with binoculars. He glanced at Natalia and Butler as they approached.
“Hello folks,” he said, returning his gaze to the sea. “The sub should be along any moment now.”
Butler put his arm around Natalia’s shoulders and looked out at the sparkling water. It was peaceful and lyrical. When this operation was over, Butler thought he’d like to take a nice long vacation in this exotic part of the world. Maybe rent a villa on the north coast of Turkey. Go to little cafes and watch the belly dancers. He felt Natalia tremble.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“If you’re having doubts, this is the time to get them off your chest.”
“I have no doubts.”
There was a sudden swooshing sound as the black submarine broke through the surface of the water fifty yards away. Captain Wilkerson turned to his bridge and pointed toward the submarine. The Windsong veered toward starboard as hatches were opened on the deck of the submarine and sailors spilled onto the deck.
The submarine and research ship converged toward each other. When they were close, lines were thrown from one to the other and bumpers were thrown over the side. A catwalk was fastened between them and Butler stood beside it with Natalia at his side.
“Good luck,” Captain Wilkerson said, shaking Butler’s hand.
“Thanks.”
Captain Wilkerson kissed Natalia on the cheek, then Butler and Natalia climbed onto the catwalk and made their way to the deck of the submarine, where Captain Sinclair was waiting alongside Lieutenant Jordan.
“Welcome aboard,’’ Captain Sinclair said, shaking their hands quickly. “We’d better get below immediately. The Russians patrol these waters, you know.”
Butler and Natalia climbed up the conning tower and then descended the ladderwell into the control room of the submarine. The sailors sat at their consoles, watching the blinking lights. You could hear other sailors descending ladderwells and running along the inside of the submarine.
Captain Sinclair stood beside the downed periscope, and Lieutenant Jordan was at the main control console.
“All the hatches are secure, sir,” Lieutenant Jordan said.
“Take her down.”
Lieutenant Jordan repeated the order, then pressed buttons and flicked switches on his console. The front of the submarine tilted downward and Butler knew they were submerging quickly. Captain Sinclair gave the order to level off, and Lieutenant Jordan passed it along. Finally the submarine was moving slowly and silently beneath the Black Sea.
“Well, here we are again,” Captain Sinclair said to Butler.
“You really get around.”
“Yes, we’re dropping people off and picking them up all the time. Let me take you to your cabins.”
Captain Sinclair led Butler and Natalia to the front of the submarine where the torpedo tubes had been during the Second World War, but whose space had been converted into cabins. Butler went inside his cabin, put the valise on the bed, and sat down. For the rest of the night and most of tomorrow, the submarine would travel across the Black Sea, into the Sea of Azov, and up the Don River to Volgograd. In about twenty-four hours Butler and Natalia would get into a rubber raft and row toward shore. They’d land in the Soviet Union and danger would be their constant companion.
Butler took out a cigarette and lit it up. Puffing, he considered that he’d been on many dangerous operations during the course of his career as a spy, and before that he’d been a Green Beret in Vietnam. He’d looked Death in the face many times and still was alive to tell about it, but he always figured that someday in some strange land the bullet was going to come with his name on it, and it would be the end of the line for him. At the beginning of every operation he wondered if this would be the one, though he was still alive. Yet who knew what hand Fate would deal tomorrow in the Soviet Union?
Butler blew smoke into the air. This kind of thinking couldn’t bring you anywhere except down. He wondered what Natalia was doing. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave her alone too much. Her fears might run away with her. She was an emotional girl. And besides, if he was going to die tomorrow, it might be a good idea to get laid one last time tonight.
He rose and took off his hat and coat. Then he left his room and walked down the corridor to Natalia’s room and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Me.”
She opened the door, and was in a serious mood. “What do you want?”
“How are you feeling?”
“All right, I suppose.”
“Worried?”
“A little.”
“Can I come in?”
“If you want to.”
She held open the door and he walked into her tiny room. The covers on her cot were turned down; evidently she’d been getting ready for bed.
“Want a cigarette?” he asked, holding out his pack.
“Thank you.” She took one.
He lit it with his Zippo, and reminded himself to leave the Zippo and the Luckies behind when he left tomorrow.
“Would you like to talk?” he asked.
“About what?”
“About anything you like. Your hopes, fears, dreams, predictions about the future, evaluations of the past, and so forth.”
“Are you horny?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Why else would you be here? You really don’t care about me.”
“Of course I care about you.”
“You think I’m a child.”
‘That’s true, but I care about you anyway.”
“All you want me for is my young body.”
He moved closer to her, “What’s the matter with that?”
“I am more than just a body,” she said reproachfully.
“Of course you are. You have a brilliant mind and you have beautiful thoughts.”
She laughed ruefully. “You must really be horny.”
“Just a little.”
“Yesterday you told me I shouldn’t love you so much.”
“That’s true—you shouldn’t.”
“And yet today you come lusting after my body.”
“There you go again—getting lust and love mixed up. Listen, I’m getting tired of this runaround. I think I’ll go back to my cabin and get some sleep.”
“No, no,” she said quickly, darting between him and the door. “You don’t have to leave.”
“I don’t.”
“No.”
“I thought you were mad at me.”
“I am, but not that mad.”
“I can’t figure you out.”
“Don’t try. It’s too much for your puny little mind.” She looked at the bed. “There’s not very much room.”
“We won’t need very much,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt.
She came to him and put her arms around his waist. “You know, when we get into the Soviet Union we won’t be able to do this anymore.”
“I’m sure we’ll find a way.”
“Don’t be so sure,”
“Then this might be our last one for awhile, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’d better make it good.”
She rested her cheek against his chest. “With you, it’s always good.”
“What a sweet thing to say. What a nice girl you are.”
“Not that nice,” she said, reaching between his legs.
He hugged her and kissed her lips, tasting the sweet nectar, and he knew she really was a nice girl no matter what she did or said.
Or so he hoped.
Chapter Eight
&
nbsp; Late the next day the submarine passed Taganrog and entered the Don River. It moved slowly in the middle of the channel close to the bottom as huge tankers and cargo ships rumbled past overhead. Captain Sinclair and Lieutenant Jordan were in the control room throughout the night, monitoring their progress on the electronics systems.
At two o’clock in the morning they entered the Tsimlyansk Reservoir, on which the city of Volgograd was constructed. Then they angled toward shore. The drop-off point would be a stretch of barren coastline ten miles from Volgograd near a huge lumber factory.
At three-ten the submarine surfaced four hundred yards offshore, and the rubber boat was put over the side. Butler went into it first, then he helped Natalia down. Their faces were blackened and they wore black camouflage outfits over their clothes. They carried no radio and no weapon except Butler’s laser pen, which Natalia didn’t know about. His set of picks was taped to his thigh. In the boat were two oars and a shovel. Butler sat at the oars and Natalia sat in front. It was a cool autumn night and her teeth chattered. She hugged herself as Butler began to row toward shore. The sea gurgled as the submarine sank below the surface, and Butler was alone with Natalia near Volgograd.
She turned around and looked toward shore. “It is so good to be home,” she said.
“Oh come on,” Butler said, pushing the oars.
She turned around and faced him. “You don’t believe me?”
“Yes, I believe you. You’re sentimental enough to miss this giant slave camp.”
“You are talking about the government, and I’m talking about the land and its people. This is my Mother Russia. It is a great country. You will see.”
“Yeah.”
Butler pushed toward shore. To his right he saw piles of lumber sitting in the moonlight, and to his left was a scrubby little forest. He steered toward the forest, and it was easy going because the surface of the reservoir was still. Silently the rubber boat glided toward shore and struck sand. Butler jumped out and pulled the boat onto the beach, then Natalia got onto the dry sand.
They knelt beside the boat and waited for a few seconds, listening for movement or signs that they’d been detected. Then they dragged the raft up the beach past the high water mark to a spot near the edge of the woods. Butler took the shovel and began digging a hole while Natalia went back and smeared their tracks with her hands.
Butler perspired heavily as he dug the hole, but he knew this was a crucial part of the operation. Many spies had been caught in the past because their boats were found, thus prompting a search. They’d been in too much of a hurry to dig a deep hole, but Butler wasn’t in that much of a hurry. His shovel bit into the soft sand and slowly scooped it away as Natalia deflated the boat.
Finally he had a hole that was as deep as his chest. He threw in the deflated boat, stomped on it, then threw in the oars and the shovel. Next he and Natalia took off their black camouflage suits and threw them in the hole. Finally Butler took damp washcloths out of plastic packages and wiped the black paint off his and Natalia’s face and hands. He threw the washcloths into the hole, then he and Natalia got down on their hands and knees and pushed the sand into the hole. When it was filled they smoothed the sand around. By morning the beach would look like it was before they got there, and the rubber boat would never be found.
So far so good. They crossed the scrubby forest and came to a two-lane highway. Turning right, they walked on the shoulder to Volgograd, passing stacks of lumber and then the lumber mill working at night, steam and smoke shooting from its chimney and lights glittering within its windows. Occasionally a big truck thundered by, but no one took any special notice of them. They appeared to be two typical Russian peasants on their way someplace.
By dawn they reached the outskirts of Volgograd, a huge city with a population of nearly a million, originally built in 1589 at the juncture of the Don and Volga Rivers. It had nearly been destroyed in 1942, but now was an important center for oil refining, lumbering, and the manufacture of heavy machinery. They walked past factories and housing projects for workers, and slowly reached the downtown area, where Communist art and slogans were on billboards and walls instead of the advertisements for products one saw in the so-called free world.
The citizens of Volgograd were on their way to work, and Butler thought they looked pretty much like Americans, except that their clothes weren’t fashionable. The women didn’t wear much makeup and Butler thought some of them were quite pretty, but he behaved himself and fumbled along beside Natalia, letting her hold his arm while he rolled his eyes and pretended to be a slack jawed idiot.
Finally they reached the railroad station, a big boxy concrete building. They went inside and made their way-through the crowds to the ticket counter, where Natalia bought two tickets to Moscow. Communist art and slogans were everywhere, like regular advertisements in an American railroad station, and Butler had to admit that the Communist stuff didn’t look any worse, and perhaps in the long run was better because it didn’t coax you to buy things that you didn’t need. Butler tried to keep an open mind about such things. He knew that closed minds produce opinions that are biased and therefore worthless,
Natalia led him down to their gate and he saw people looking at them, probably sympathizing with the pretty girl who was taking care of the bumbling idiot. He was tempted to laugh, but permitted himself only an idiotic giggle. Finally they reached the gate, and Natalia explained to him in sign language that they had to wait ninety minutes. So they sat in a waiting room area and an old lady beside Natalia started talking to her while Butler looked at the crowds swarming through the railroad station.
The old lady went away, and Natalia told Butler in sign language to stay put. She went to the newsstand in the middle of the floor and bought two magazines giving him one to look at. Butler thumbed through the magazine, looking at pictures of Soviet actresses, cosmonauts, politicians, and ballet dancers. There also were farming scenes, factories, and one photo of Russian soldiers marching in a big public square. That reminded Butler of the Doom Machine and the mission he was on. If the military maniacs had their way, there wouldn’t be anything left of the world.
Something prompted Butler to look up. He saw two policemen walking through the train station, looking at people. A sensation of paranoia fell over him as he wondered if maybe through some weird event the rubber boat had been found and now the authorities were searching for Natalia and him. But the police walked right by and he relaxed; they probably were looking for a petty thief or somebody who murdered his mother-in-law, not Butler the master spy.
At the appropriate time, Natalia motioned for him to get up and, taking his arm, led him through the passageway and down the stairs to the train, a sleek chromium express. They boarded the train and sat on two seats with Butler close to the window. A young Army officer sat across the aisle from Natalia and struck up a conversation with her. Butler felt jealous and realized the girl meant more to him than he’d thought. Was he falling in love with her? he asked himself. Could be.
The train filled with people, leaving few empty seats. Finally it rumbled out of the station It travelled underground for a long way, and then suddenly came up into the sunlight amid an area of housing projects. A few old men and women walked about. Butler figured most people must be at work or school.
The train sped into the countryside, passing fields that seemed to go on forever. It reminded Butler of the wheat country in Montana and the Dakotas, except that this land was flat. The train buzzed through the farmland, and Butler began to think that the land was endless, and that he was trapped inside a symphony of scenery that would go on forever.
Next the train came to a region of forests and rivers, and again Butler thought it would never end. Late in the afternoon a man came through the car selling sandwiches, and the Army officer who’d been talking to Natalia offered to buy some for her and her crazy brother, but she insisted on paying for them herself.
Butler watched a landscape of trees pass his window as h
e munched on a sausage sandwich and drank, of all things, a bottle of Pepsi-Cola, After his meal, Butler looked out the window at more fields.
The train came to the city of Voronezh and stopped for a half hour. Butler and Natalia went out on the platform to stretch, and the Army officer followed them, talking to Natalia, probably asking for a date. Butler wanted to punch his lights out, but that would never do.
They returned to the train and soon were heading north again. Dusk was falling and soon it was completely dark. Butler asked in sign language where the toilet was and Natalia told him. He slid past her and walked down the aisle, doing his idiot act. He had to wait outside the toilet for a drunk to come out, then went in and took a leak. Coming out, he returned to his seat and asked Natalia if he could have a cigarette. She asked the Army officer who gladly handed her the whole pack, but she just took two, and the Army officer passed her his book of matches.
Butler liked the cigarette, it reminded him a little of the ones French peasants smoked: strong and tasty. Natalia resumed her conversation with the Army officer as the car became dark. Some people put lights on above their heads so they could read, but Butler decided to get some rest. After finishing his cigarette he closed his eyes and tried to doze off, but wasn’t very successful He’d never had much success trying to sleep sitting up, Natalia stopped talking to the officer and cuddled against Butler a little. He was tempted to nuzzle in her breasts, but that wouldn’t do either.
Bells clanged throughout the night, and lights flashed by the window. Occasionally Butler would open his eyes to see little towns in the middle of nowhere, with no one on the streets and only a few lamps burning. And then it was back into the country again, the fields and forests, the tractless space that was Russia.
Chapter Nine
The train pulled into Moscow Station at five o’clock in the morning. The passengers sleepily disembarked and the officer gave Natalia his phone number while Butler looked at the tracks and wondered if that was the exact spot where Anna Karenina jumped to her death. He also wondered what Tolstoy would think if he saw Russia today. It’d probably blow his mind.
