“Now, coordinating measures. We’re mostly worried about timing. Everything needs to kick off at the same time. There is only one signal we can use that will reach everyone at once. This is the killing of the town’s electrical power with the dousing of the lights.
“Turgenev?”
“Sir?”
“I want the lights down and the attack to commence at zero-four-thirty. Plot when you must leave the safe house, navigate to the power plant, take down any guard, and prepare to kill the power based on that.”
“Sir. That’s also when we’ll want Shukhov to take down the telegraph lines, yes?”
“Correct. I don’t know that they have their own power source, for a back up, but they might.”
“Dratvin?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You have a longer distance to go than Cherimisov. Calculate how long to get to the Girls’ School and set up in the buildings around it.”
“Sir.”
“Also Cherimisov; I’ll be with you along with the command group. We’ll be the last to leave the warehouse. At the warehouse, Second Company, minus, plus the heavy machine guns have the left side. Fourth Company reinforced, with headquarters, has the right.
“Finally, each company grouping can send up to one squad, early, to neutralize exterior guards, if they can be absolutely sure of doing so silently but, even if they cannot, to cover their occupation of assault positions.
“Now prepare to synchronize watches… at the mark it will be zero-two-zero-seven… five… four… three… two… one… mark.
“Now, Natalya, since you were awake to greet us, lead off. Turgenev, take your engineers and lead them to your safe house as you think best. Everyone else; pass the word; drop skis and packs here… complete silence from here to the attack.”
Fortunately, because the Tobol and Irtysh rivers were prone to flooding, nobody had built any houses within about two to three hundred meters of the rivers’ banks, much farther south than the promontory on which stood the Kremlin of Tobolsk.
Moreover, the moon was now at an angle that cast a shadow down onto the rivers’ ice, but didn’t illuminate the men from one side. The men, having changed to more familiar boots taken from their packs, leaving their Austrian ski boots behind, made barely a sound on the thick pad of ice. Only the sleighs made any noise, and that not much.
In short, the passage to the warehouse was as secret and quiet as anyone might have hoped for.
Recognizing a landmark, Natalya whispered to Kostyshakov, “We turn right here, sir.” The column duly cut right, crossing just south of the little river port. From there, the column filed by twos into the warehouse standing just west of Zavodskaya. Lavin was there first, and opened the wide double doors facing the river.
Kostyshak stopped, listening carefully, once he reached the door. There was no sound from the town other than the distant hum of the power station and the occasional barking of a dog.
Inside, in the relative darkness, the senior noncoms manhandled the men into something resembling an orderly arrangement for sleeping.
Will anyone sleep? wondered Kostyshakov. I certainly won’t. Which reminds me…
“Natalya?” he whispered.
“Here, sir,” came the reply from the darkness.
“You and Lavin need to get back to the safe house. Can you lead me and a couple of guards there, along some route that won’t be hard to retrace our steps with?”
“No problem,” she replied. “Though… now that I think about it, the best way lies through a park with no road, with Ulitsa Yershova dead-ending on either side.”
“That will be fine. Sergeant Major Blagov?”
“Here, sir.”
“Couple of pistol armed guards, no white smocks, as soon as you can drum them up.”
“Five minutes, then, sir. Maybe a little less.”
Cherimisov then asked Daniil, “Sir, I’ve got three platoons that are going to be stretched out a good distance. Do you mind if I send three three-man teams to secure up to the last position with concealment? And my first sergeant to run herd on them?”
“Mayevsky plus nine? Sure, go ahead.”
“Also, sir, I was thinking.”
“Go on.”
“We’ve got those ladders, but are they the right tool? The rope diagram Strat Recon brought us shows two sets of perfectly useful stairs, and from the side we’re coming from. I think we can get more combat power to the second floor using those, quicker, than we could with twenty ladders. Sir, we’re presuming we’ve got surprise, anyway; let’s use it. Besides, we’ll need the ladders for the stockade.”
“Do it.” Note to self, we need a way to inculcate more individual initiative, at least among our leaders. Cherimisov should not have had to ask me a question like that, but just should have gone ahead and done it.
The sergeant major returned, saying, “Your guards are ready and standing by, sir.”
The only dangerous spot on the route was in the relatively open area south of the Governor’s House. There, Daniil elected to take a right, and then a left, before turning north again at Ulitsa Volodarskogo. A knock on the back door and they were face to face with Turgenev and Mokrenko.
“I want to see the two prisoners,” Daniil said.
“Take him to them, Sergeant,” the lieutenant said.
The lights still worked, so there was no problem getting down to the storage room. When the door was opened, both Chekov and Dostovalov sat up, squinting against the sudden light. The latter had a worse problem than light sensitivity, though, and held his head against a cosmic scale headache.
“I need to ask you two a few questions,” said Daniil, without identifying himself. “It would be better for you to answer, if not…”
“If not, we separate them and apply duress,” said Mokrenko, “until the answers are forthcoming and match.” He then added the lie, “I have the iron pokers, in the fire, all ready for that eventuality.”
“Why not just shoot me and put me out of my misery?” Dostovalov groaned.
“I’m not especially interested in putting anyone out of their misery,” Daniil said. “What I am interested in are your feelings toward the Romanovs. And the Bolsheviks.”
Chekov answered, “Fuck the Bolshviks. We don’t care all that much for the tsar, and the Nemka can go to hell, as far as we’re concerned, but the children…”
“… are wonderful,” Dostovalov finished. “I would die for Olga, and he, though he is loath to admit it, would fight for Tatiana.”
Daniil raised an eyebrow. Would he, indeed?
“Yes,” said Chekov, “I suppose I would.”
“Why should I trust you?” Daniil asked.
“In your shoes, I would not,” Chekov replied.
“That’s an honest answer, at least.”
“I’m an honest man,” said Chekov.
“Could I trust your parole?”
“You couldn’t trust mine,” said Dostovalov, “but, then, you don’t need to. If you’re trying to save my Olga that is all the trust you need. His word, on the other hand, you can trust. And I generally do what he tells me.”
Daniil nodded, “I’ll trust you this far, if you accept. You can come with my headquarters group, under guard, with your hands bound and your ankles tied a single arshin apart. Any false move whatsoever and your throats will be cut on the spot. I only needed you two out of the house so that when we go in, you don’t get killed and set the girls to hysterics. But whether you are alive or dead when we’ve brought them out safe doesn’t really matter, we can chivy them along at that point. Accept or refuse, now.”