“I would certainly hope not, because we have a full Siberian rifle division posted here, and another at Kansk. Let me see then…. Alright Fedorov, I’m going to take your word on this. Bring your men out. They can’t stay here, of course, but I can have the Lieutenant here arrange an escort to quarters on this very block, and they can wait there until we sort all this business out.”
“Agreed,” said Fedorov. “Do you wish to have your man search me now, or shall I bring out my men? I did have a service pistol, but my Sergeant is carrying it now.”
“Never mind, Fedorov. We can forego the formalities here. Something tells me that if you came here to do anything, it has already happened. So bring your men out, and let’s get moving.”
Fedorov gave orders to Troyak, stating that he wanted them followed to the letter, without exception, and any man causing the least bit of trouble would be stewed. He wanted the Sergeant to take the squad to the quarters arranged and wait there for his return. They were not to interact with the locals, nor were they to openly display or handle their weapons. Each man was permitted a sidearm and his knife, but all their rifles and other equipment should be stowed in the duffel bags, and no one was to touch it, except by Fedorov’s direct order, or an order given by Troyak on Fedorov’s approval. They would remain in contact hourly through their service jacket comm-link, and there was to be no trouble. If guards were posted outside their quarters, they were to be ignored and left alone.
“Good enough?” said Fedorov, looking at Tyrenkov.
“Good enough. I’ll have food sent over for your men, and they will be considered our guests, unless I hear otherwise from Karpov. By the way…” Tyrenkov leaned in closer, lowering his voice so only Fedorov could hear. “Which one did you need to speak to?” He smiled.
They were led out, and Tyrenkov and Fedorov crossed the street to a building that had once been a school. He remembered it from the raid they had conducted here, right in the middle of one of Volkov’s attacks. Soon they were seated in a room that had been comfortably appointed with chairs, a coffee table, and a bar. Tyrenkov sat down, slowly removing his gloves, and had an adjutant bring in a plate of cold cuts, cheese, nuts, and two glasses. He poured them a nice vodka.
“I’m famished,” said Fedorov. “Thank you for your hospitality, and for treating me this way, though you may have every reason to do otherwise.”
“That gets tedious, unless I know a man is clearly my enemy,” said Tyrenkov. “Then I can be a heartless and cruel as any brute, though we usually have Grilikov to look after that business. Are you my enemy, Mister Fedorov? Are you Karpov’s enemy now, as he might think after this little theater you’ve pulled?”
“What theater? Let me explain what happened. As you may know, I was ordered here by Karpov.”
“Yes, and ordered back to his ship as well.”
“We got that message, and I confirmed, but we then had difficulties with the helicopter.”
“We found it, of course,” said Tyrenkov. “Right where you left it. But it seems we are missing an airship now.” He folded his hands, waiting, watching Fedorov closely.
“I suppose I should tell you the entire story,” said Fedorov.
Chapter 14
“So you elected to carry on with your mission, in spite of the recall order you received, and even after Karpov took a shot at you with one of those missiles?”
“I did. I am not just anyone, Tyrenkov. I am Captain of that ship, given that post by our Admiral Volsky himself. You may have hoodwinked us in Murmansk, and yes, Karpov had his way there, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten who I am, and what authority I have. I agreed to cooperate with Karpov, until he fired that missile. Let’s just say that if you had used that pistol in your hand when you first appeared a moment ago, we might not be sitting here for this nice little conversation. The moment Karpov refused to treat me like the man I am, was the moment he forfeited his authority over me. I did what any sane man would have done at that moment—I saved that helo, my men, and my mission.”
“Laudable, but I don’t think Karpov will see things quite that way, neither one of them. Big Brother is quite upset with what he now perceives as your deliberate insubordination, and he’s been riding Little Brother to find you, not to mention his airship.”
“That won’t be found again. I had to destroy it, along with everyone aboard, and I’ll take full responsibility for that.”
“I see… Quite ballsy of you, Fedorov. Little Brother won’t like that one bit. He’s taken to his fleet like a fish to water, just like the first one did. Volkov still outnumbers us in that area, and now the Germans are getting into the act, and with ships carrying some very dangerous armament. It could upset the entire balance of power in terms of air superiority. So then, you had your men fry that airship. But what of the mission?”
“As you can see, I got through to the target, though not in any way I expected. To be quite honest with you, after Karpov took that shot at my helo, all bets were off. I elected to try and get to neutral ground, and plotted a course for Soviet territory. As it happened, that course took me over some very dangerous ground.”
He told Tyrenkov what had happened to them over the Stony Tunguska, and where they ended up. With each passing moment, he could see Tyrenkov’s detached manner melt away, and he leaned closer.
“You got all the way back to 1908?” he said, his voice lowered.
“July 1st, to be precise,” said Fedorov, “which was exactly where I hoped to go by first coming here in this time—here to that railway inn. I assume you know all about it. Well, I’ve been down those stairs before, and it was my assertion that a connection exists there between this time and 1908.”
“Karpov has told me all about this,” said Tyrenkov. “And he’s also told me what you were attempting to do there, and why it was so imperative that your mission be stopped, by any and every means at our disposal. We’ve been looking for you ever since, but I never thought I would find you right there as I did, like a bear with his paw in the honey pot.” He paused, looking around, then focusing on Fedorov again.
“Everything here looks the same,” he said, “even that painting over there of the Flying Dutchman that I’m fond of. I had it hung there myself six months ago. So may I assume your assassination attempt failed?”
Now it was time to introduce a little whitewash to the picture he was painting, thought Fedorov. “Assassination attempt? You mean Sergei Kirov? I had direct orders from Karpov to abort that mission. I wanted to know why, and got a missile instead. Then one thing led to another, as I have told you. However, when I did find that fate had brought me to the precise place I intended to go, I had… second thoughts. Karpov had to have a reason for aborting the mission, even if he would not take the time to trust me with it, or trust I would comply. That was his mistake. For my part, while I had every intention of finding Mironov and ending this nightmare, I relented.”
That sounded a good deal better than the truth, thought Fedorov. I was alone with Mironov, and no other living soul knows what happened there. So that reality is how I frame it now. Tyrenkov doesn’t need to know that I was too weak to go through with my mission; that I was ready to end my own life rather than face up to the consequences of my actions here. He doesn’t have to know what really happened, and that I will now probably bear a scar on my chin, just like the one on Karpov’s cheek. No one ever needs to know how that happened, or why.
“You relented….” said Tyrenkov, studying him closely.
“Call it a change of heart, or you can also think that I was just being a loyal servant of the man you serve as well. In any case, Sergei Kirov lived. I hope I’m correct in that. Frankly, I have no way of knowing what we may have inadvertently changed this time. Every step we took there was perilous to every hour and day that followed. Did he live?”