Lord Elgin would later write of that moment: “The mystical light and deep shadows cast by the moon, gave to it an intensity which I cannot attempt to describe. To me it seemed to look, earnest, searching, but unsatisfied. For a long time, I remained transfixed, endeavoring to read the meaning conveyed by this wonderful eye of the Sphinx…”
Strangely, Lord Elgin was there in Egypt only because of a similar charge delivered to him by his own father. That was why the Earl was so keen to survey these ancient ruins, as if searching for something hidden there long ago, but frustrated when he could not find it. Now, standing amid the smashed and littered artwork of the Old “Summer Palace” in Peking, he was equally intent upon fulfilling his quest. “We have the one,” his father had told him. “We must now find the others.”
Like father, like son…. James Bruce eventually found his way to one place within those sprawling estates, through the “Temple of Heaven,” past the “Hall of Eternal Ages,” into a small garden in the “House of Endless Consciousness,” and there it was, just where his Father had told him it would be, one small object that had been overlooked by the hordes of looting soldiers.
“I would like a great many things that the palace contains,” Elgin had said to General Montauban, “but I am not a thief.” No, he was not a thief. He was a collector, and he had come here, riding the currents of political conflict and discontent, to find a thing that needed to be collected.
He sighed, closing his eyes, and tucked it away in the pocket of his greatcoat. With this in hand, he thought, the entire campaign is a complete success. Now then… The Chinese… Yes, this was all quite regrettable, the destruction and looting. It will reflect very badly on us, and yet, it may not be enough of an example of our retribution. It may take something more.
He looked around, seeing hundreds of buildings, mostly constructed with cedar, and came to a decision he had been deliberating for several days. A few days later, the Old “Summer Palace” would be burned. No one else would ever be able to retrace his footsteps and find this place again, he thought. Now that I have what I came for, nothing else matters, so let it burn….
Part XII
Balance of Terror
“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”
Chapter 34
Ivan Volkov was confused. Nothing appeared as it should. He had reached Kansk, where he thought he might be able to get information on what was happening. The city itself looked to be half its proper size. The massive weapons arsenal north of the river was gone, along with the Naval Marine Cadet school on its southern edge. The military barracks facilities were missing, and all the buildings he could see looked antiquated. There was no sign of modernity, no restaurants offering fast food, billboards, advertisements of any kind. His thought was to find a military plane and get to some safe location before a missile found the place, but there was no airfield! Kansk West was gone, along with the older civil airfield south of the city. It was as if he was in an entirely different place, yet the twisting flow of the river was the one thing that was unmistakable. This was certainly Kansk, yet like nothing he had ever seen.
His mind briefly considered the possibility that the city had already been struck, but he could see no outward signs of damage. The people, also oddly dressed, seemed to be fussing over the arrival of a few old cars, and asking a passerby what was happening, he was told the race cars had arrived. Perplexed and confused, he made one last attempt to locate his security team. Where could they have gone? But when he broadcast his message on the designated navy short range channel, no one answered.
Then he realized he had been a fool. The technology built into his service jacket had been born from new small unit equipment designed for the Russian Marines. It had been designed as a field jacket, running on solar power from light sensitive threads in the outer lining, with a thin flexible battery pack the was infinitely rechargeable, and special computer chips embedded in water tight pouches in the lining, wrapped with a Kevlar like protective shell that was also shielded from EMP pulse.
The jacket had many capabilities. In addition to short range radio, it could also store enormous amounts of data, and also had both GPS and cellular connection capability. Originally designed to link field operatives in a team, it could also broadcast a signal that might reach any other field jacket in range, a kind of ping that would then be answered by that suit to indicate the presence of a friendly operative in the immediate vicinity. In the heat of the moment, he had only used his radio to call for his guards. Now he settled down and got a grip on himself. Use the damn suit!
He reached to the left inside jacket lining, moved a pocket flap, and there was the locator button, which he squeezed between thumb and forefinger to activate the suit ping. The results were almost immediate. His jacket broadcast its IFF signal, and then reported any returning ping it received.
“One contact,” a woman’s synthesized voice on his collar speaker reported the results seconds later, but that only deepened the mystery. One contact? That was reassuring, but where were the rest of his men? He tried his radio set one more time.
“Team Seven, this is team leader. Come in team seven, this is Volkov—over.”
“Well I’ll be a monkey’s ass,” Orlov said aloud. Volkov! This was the man that Fedorov seemed so worried about, that nosey intelligence officer that was inspecting the ship when they finally got back to Vladivostok. What was he doing here? Could it be the same man, or was the name just a coincidence? And what was this talk about Team Seven?
Now Orlov looked around him, suddenly wary. This place was the same run-down hovel that he had seen when they arrived on that zeppelin. Fedorov had been keen to find this Mironov fellow, and the two of them had some kind of disagreement, then he simply rounded up the whole team and wanted to go up those stairs to the second floor. In fact, they could be up there right now. But how did this Volkov get here? Was this some part of the mission that Fedorov never explained?
Sookin Sim! He swore inwardly. I’d better check upstairs first.
He made his way up the main stairway, hoping to find the whole team waiting for him on the second floor. Fedorov had once told him something crazy about this place, about that back stairway as well. When the Captain had revealed the true nature of their mission, it was quite a shock., and he was still running all that over in his mind….
“We’ve moved,” said Fedorov. “We aren’t in the same time as before. That event out there is the Tunguska Event. This is 1908, and just a day or so after that thing fell back there on the 30th of June.”
“1908?” Orlov gave him a blank look.
“So you see why I didn’t want to get into it with Symenko,” said Fedorov. “As for you two, you need to know the truth. It’s 1908, and probably the first of July, the day after Tunguska. I’ve changed our heading and we’re going to Ilanskiy, just east of Kansk. There’s someone there I have to…. Speak with.”
It took a while for things to get through Orlov’s thick skull. He blinked, looking at Troyak. “Who’s the man you need to see there?” he had asked.
“Mironov. Alright, I’d better tell you both this, and it will be a lot to swallow. It all started with you, Chief, and you remember it very well—when you decided to jump ship. Well I came after you to get you home again, and you, Sergeant, came right along with me.”