“I accept,” said Chekov. “So does he.”
“Sergeant Mokrenko, bind them please.”
As his hands were being bound, Chekov’s eyes adjusted enough to take in the submachine gun in the hands of one of the guards. “What is that?” he asked.
“Think of it as a short range machine gun that can carried and operated by one man,” Kostyshkov replied.
“My,” said Chekov, “isn’t that a very nice idea?”
Warehouse, Tobolsk
One of the squads, rather, a squad sized composite, from Fourth Company, left the warehouse early, as Daniil had allowed. One of the squads from the remainder of Dratvin’s Second Company had left ten minutes before. Already, Dratvin’s men were lining up at the warehouse door nearest the river, to begin their slightly longer trek to the Girls’ School and the communists from Omsk. As they left, Daniil thought, Maybe we should have left the heavy machine guns covered on the sleighs… nah, if a hundred and eight armed men aren’t enough to excite suspicion, a couple of Maxims aren’t very likely to, either.
The little Yakut horses seemed as excited as the men, but no more fearful. I suspect they pick their cues for fear up from us. If they’re not skittish, it’s probably because they can’t smell fear off the men. I can only consider that a good sign.
In a column of twos, Dratvin leading and with the T-Gewehr and the Maxims in between his first and second platoon, that company left out the rear door and began their movement to action. They had bayonets fixed and orders to try to kill anyone potentially hostile that they encountered with cold steel, rather than hot—and noisy—fire.
Daniil consulted his watch just as the last member of Second company disappeared through the door.
Twenty-five minutes and we start to move.
Safe House, Tobolsk
If we don’t leave now, thought Turgenev, there’s a small chance we’ll run into Dratvin’s crew somewhere. This would be what we call a “bad thing,” at least potentially.
“Are we ready, Sergeant Mokrenko?”
“No, sir,” the sergeant replied. “We’re eager.”
“Engineers?”
“No less than Strat Recon,” the young officer replied. He and his men had a single large log perched on alternating shoulders.
Natalya ran out and threw her arms around Turgenev. “I won’t try to stop you,” she said, “but even if I am too young, if you don’t give me a kiss for your own good luck, you’re a fool.”
“You’re not too young for a good luck kiss,” he said, and then delivered on the statement. “Now stay here and keep down in the basement, even if it’s miserably cold. There’s going to be a good deal of firing from many points and in all direction, especially from that nest of communist vipers across the corner. Will you promise me?”
“I promise.” She stood back, freeing him to leave. “But you should have let me go to the house to get everything ready.”
“With those fanatics on guard? With all that lead flying around? Oh, no; you, my girl, stay here.”
Well, at least he called me his girl.
Turgenev raised a hand, with his middle and index fingers projecting, and the rest forming an O with the thumb. As he said, “Then at the double, let’s… go!” he brought them down, pointing north, then led the way out the side gate of the safe house yard.
If there was a guard on the back of the Girls’ School he hadn’t been paying much attention.
The men quickly took up a trotting pace. Once on the street, Turgenev turned left and led them almost two blocks to Christmas Street. From there the group went right, travelling two more, but double, blocks to where a little footbridge crossed a corner of the sharp-turning River Kurdyumka. At Epiphany, the street that on a different timeline might have been named for Rosa Luxemburg, they turned left again. With a one hundred and thirty or so meter dash, they reached the main door to the power plant. The engineers took their log off their shoulders and prepared to beat the door in.
“Just one second,” said Mokrenko, who reached out, turned the knob, and found the door completely open.
“Well, fuck,” said the engineer officer.
In through the open door they poured. They found one guard, asleep, and butt-stroked him off his chair and onto the floor. Lavin dropped out to tie the man’s hands and feet. Moving inward, they came to a very hot open area, glowing with fires from the coal that ran the steam turbine. There were two sweating men there, shoveling coal into the open maw of the furnace. As soon as those men sensed the presence of Turgenev’s little task force, they turned. When they saw the red glow reflecting from ten bayonets and almost a score of rifle barrels they dropped their shovels and raised their hands.
“Who else is in the plant?” asked the lieutenant. “Your lives depend on the honesty of your answers.”
“Just one, the night shift manager,” the fire stokers answered. “Well, two, if you count the woman with him.”
“Where are they?”
Both of the men pointed at a room on the upper level, at the head of a flight of steps.
“Sergeant, see to them.”
“Sir.” He came back shortly with a man and a woman, both trying to get dressed in a hurry. At the same time, Lavin dragged the now well-trussed guard in by his heels.
“Did my wife send you?” the man demanded, while being trussed up.
“Ummm… no,” said Turgenev. The lieutenant consulted his watch. “And now we wait a bit.” Addressing the night shift manager, he added, “But in the interim, you are going to explain to us how to shut off all power to the town, or we’ll try to put out the fire by stuffing you into it.”
“Well, if you will promise not to tell my wife? Yes? Then the first step…”
Daniil consulted his watch again. Three minutes. He felt his heart rate begin to pick up as it had not on the strenuous ski trek to the town. Under three hundred against over six hundred. Bad, yes, it’s bad… but I’ve got better men, better armed and trained, and total tactical surprise. They don’t know we’re here or there would be firing by now.
Was it smart to let Cherimisov use the ladders for the stockade? Yes, I think it was. It made sense to be ready for a second floor ascent without stairs but with the stairs and surprise? Yes, I think it made sense.
Should I have told Turgenev to put the power back on after a period of time, maybe ten or fifteen minutes? I don’t know. But I do know that with the headlamps and the flash grenades we’ve got an advantage in the dark the enemy can’t deal with. I think… yes, it was better to leave the power and lights off. And Dratvin and Cherimisov have flare pistols if they need a little short-term light.
What have I missed or screwed up? Dear God, I know I haven’t thought of everything.
Two minutes now. The three platoons under Cherimisov are already forming in three columns. Too dark to make out faces. I wonder if any of them are reconsidering their claim they’d mutiny. Maybe one or two, but they’re good men and not afraid of much.
I know I’ve screwed up something. What is it? Can I fix it in the… ninety seconds left to me? No, not a chance, even if I knew what.