Just as he was settling back into his chair and savoring the aroma as he breathed in thin curls of coffee vapor to soothe his nose and sinuses, in came Peter Twinn, with what looked to be a large photo in hand and a thick manila envelope under his arm. Turing caught the return label and knew it had come in on the morning delivery from Whitehall and the Admiralty.
“Well,” said Twinn, “we’re in trouble, Alan. What, pray tell, do you make of that!”
“What is it?” Turing seemed uninterested.
“It’s the prodigal son, that what it is.” Twinn pressed the photographs into his lap.
Turing took the first photo, eying it suspiciously. It was a typical aerial reconnaissance photo of what appeared to be a large warship at sea. “Well it certainly is exactly what it looks like,” he said. “A ship.”
“Yes, but not a German ship this time, Alan. Take a good guess as to who owns this one. Then have a look at these close-ups under my arm. I think you’ll be quite amazed.”
Turing set down his coffee mug, reached for his magnifying glass, and took a closer look. “Russian naval ensign,” he said definitively. “That’s clear enough. Where was it taken-the Baltic?”
“Southwest of Iceland, right in the middle of this big operation underway out there now.”
Turing looked again, this time his gaze lingering on the photo, eye roving from place to place behind the big round lens of the magnifying glass and a strange feeling coming over him that he could not quite decipher. It was an odd ripple, shiver like, that ran up his spine and tingled at the back of his neck, yet he could not see why he would react thus way to a simple photograph.
“Dear Alan,” said Twinn. “Having another allergy attack, are you? Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation as to why we could have missed a ship like this in the Russian order of battle. After all, we’ve never seen them as much of a threat. It’s the Germans we’ve been hot about, eh?”
Saying nothing, Turing extended an arm, gesturing for the manila envelope Twinn was holding, his eyes still riveted to the original photo, a furrow of growing concern creasing his brow. He had seen this ship before… That was the feeling at the back of his neck now, and it was bloody dangerous, a rising discomfort and warning alarm in his mind. He had seen this ship before, yet he could not recall the where and when of that, strangely bothered, as his mind was a steel trap that little escaped from once embraced by the cold steel of his logic. He took the envelope, opening it hastily as Twinn looked on, now somewhat concerned himself.
“My Lord!” Turing exclaimed. “How did they manage to get these? Why, it looks as though they were taken from a ship steaming right alongside this big bad fellow.”
“That they were-taken from HMS Invincible just days ago and flown off to the Admiralty for the purview of Their Lordships. So now they’ve come to us. Quite a ship, is it not? Note the label. It was listed under the name Kirov, and they’ve classed it as a battlecruiser of sorts, though I can’t see much in the way of armament.”
“Yes, just a few twin secondary turrets, but my god, the damn thing is bristling with receiving antennae and what looks to be radar dishes. Look at all these features here.” Turing pointed out elements in the photo, the feeling he was reliving something of grave concern still deeply rooted in his mind. He could even feel the rising magma of fear there, an old fear, something learned long ago, and he noted how his pulse quickened.
“Now here’s the amazing part,” said Twinn. “This ship was commanded by a Russian Admiral, and he was invited over for lunch and gin with our own Admirals Tovey and Holland! Word is the Russians offered to throw in with us against the Germans! How’s that for news?”
“Officially?” Turing gave him a searching look.
“We don’t know the details yet. Tovey is still at sea, and things are getting quite hot from the latest signals we’ve received. But it would be a rather welcome development. All we have to do now is explain how the Russians built this ship without anyone here knowing about it… and how it came to be found in the Denmark Strait! First word on that monster was apparently sent in by an auxiliary cruiser escorting convoy HX-49 out of Halifax. Then came that aerial sighting from a pilot off Ark Royal.”
“So we missed something,” said Turing. “Ship watch isn’t our department.”
“But signals traffic is. Admiralty wants us to listen in more on the Russians now to see what else they might have up their sleeves. I don’t think they perceive them as a threat, at least not Soviet Russia, but with the Orenburg Federation throwing in with the Germans the situations is somewhat… fluid.”
“To say the least. A lot of dominoes have been falling Peter, Italy, France, Belgium, Holland, Denmark, Norway and now Orenburg. Well, they haven’t any navy to speak of, just those antiquated old airship fleets.”
“That’s their navy of sorts,” Twinn countered. “They’ve twenty four big zeppelins, rigged out for aerial reconnaissance, air defense and even bombing missions now. Those new self-sealing gas bags have proven very resilient. A typical fighter group has fits trying to shoot one of the damn things down.”
“Yes, yes, well forget about Orenburg for the moment.” Turing’s attention was still fixated on the photos of the Russian ship. “Something tells me this ship is hiding something beneath that long empty foredeck. See these hatches? I doubt if this is an armed steamer or cargo vessel. Admiralty will have noticed this as well and they’ll be wanting us to sort it all out.”
“I can ask Kendrick or Strachey if they could listen in on Russian signals. This ship is bound to be receiving orders.”
“Good idea, Peter… and let me know, will you? Let me know the instant you hear anything at all about this ship.”
“Finally got your attention, eh?” Turing seemed to have an unusual interest in the matter now. “Well, Alan, I’ve finally found something that can get you to interrupt your coffee time!” Twinn smiled, but as he looked at Turing he could see he was again lost in his review of the photos, a silence about him that seemed very troubled.
Schettler, John
Kirov Saga: Darkest Hour: Altered States — Volume II (Kirov Series)
Part IV
“Friendship is but another name for an alliance with the follies and the misfortunes of others. Our own share of miseries is sufficient: why enter then as volunteers into those of another?
Chapter 10
June 20, 1940
The crews were working feverishly, the Air Commandant’s voice harsh as he bawled through the voice pipes to the nose of the ship. “Cast off! All lines away! Ballast Chief, release ground anchor an lighten load!”
The sun gleamed on the round nose of the ship where the dull red of its serial number was painted on the slate grey canvas-S6, “Siberian Six,” otherwise known as Siberian Airship Abakan. Its broad tail fins were prominently marked with the Cross of Saint George, the war time symbol of the Free Siberian State. The elevatorman was exerting himself to spin the wheel, his eyes fixed on the elevator panel to note the airship’s pitch, deflection and inclination. A glass leveling tube told him much of what he needed to know, and his effort was to “chase the bubble” when he wanted to level off the ship.