“Kirov? He certainly did. Everything is as it was before you boarded your helicopter. At least it seems that way, but how would I know that for sure?”
Fedorov’s face showed obvious relief, but knew that it might be impossible for Tyrenkov to detect anything that may have changed.
“And Stalin?”
“Who is that?” Tyrenkov smiled. “No, I’m afraid he died as a very young man, and well before he got down to business with Sergo, Mikoyan, Beria and all the rest. Yes, Karpov has told me all about him. But I am curious. From what I have learned, Volkov also used that stairway to get to 1908. Are you saying that I could do that, this moment, and end up there myself, just by walking down those stairs?”
“That would be a very dangerous thing to do,” said Fedorov.
“Yes, I suppose it would. But would it happen, Fedorov?”
“Possibly. Every man gets somewhere, to some time other than the one he leaves behind him. Where you might end up is anyone’s guess, but it could be no earlier than the 30th of June, 1908.”
“Because you believe the event you witnessed from the Irkutsk—at Tunguska—was the root cause of that fissure in time?”
“Exactly. So you see, that stairway represents power of a kind that no man on this earth has ever had at his disposal. The first time I went down those stairs it was an accident, and I caused a good deal of harm, which I don’t think I can ever really atone for. I thought my mission might change that—we both did, Karpov and I. He changed his mind, called off the mission, but did so in a rather disrespectful and boorish way. I carried on, with a little help from chance and fate, but I changed my mind as well. So, Tyrenkov, you will have to answer your own question now. Am I your enemy? And what might you have done differently in my place?”
Tyrenkov merely smiled, thinking.
“I might suggest you make your report to Big Brother on all of this. Little Brother is a good deal more irascible these days.”
“I understand.”
“Abakan is tethered to the number two docking tower outside. It’s a fairly fast ship. I’m prepared to put you and your men on it tonight, and you can leave under cover of darkness. Little Brother has been informed that we have you in custody. He’s well to the north on Tunguska, pulling in his long range patrols now. I can tell you exactly where every ship in the fleet is at this moment. So listen here, Anton Fedorov, once Captain and now Starpom of the battlecruiser Kirov. I can put you and your men on Abakan, and you can go wherever you wish.”
“Wherever I wish?”
“Oh, I’ll have to say that I ordered Abakan to fly you directly to the Sea of Okhotsk. That’s where your ship still is. Yet you have already hijacked one airship, so I suppose you could do the same with this one given the things your Marines might be packing in those duffel bags. So then, if daring do is still on your mind, be my guest. Continue your journey to Soviet territory if you wish. Go find Sergei Kirov and make your mind known to him. Of course, he might just send you right back to Karpov. You see, he’s somewhat indebted to us. If Karpov were to ask, he would likely get you extradited in a heartbeat, just like he got his ship back. And of course, I’ll have to deny I ever said any of this. If you do take that course, I’ll have a good bit of trouble on my hands. I might even lose my job.”
“Rest easy,” said Fedorov. “What you offer is very tempting, but I’ve only just spoken with Sergei Kirov—not two hours ago, or thirty-four years ago from your perspective. We’ve had our little chat for the time being, so no, I think I’ll go right back to my ship and see the Admiral himself. He deserves an explanation, and to know what I’ve told you here direct from me. Then again, I won’t be too happy if he elects to put a missile into Abakan the minute we get within range.”
“I suppose that is a risk you’ll have to take. I’ve taken one here by not locking you up and turning you over to Little Brother and his louts. Yes, he has his own security men now. It was inevitable, I suppose, but my people keep a close eye on things.”
“Considering that,” said Fedorov, “I have a little problem, and it could become a very big one soon. There was one other man with us, Chief Orlov off the ship. I insisted he come with me on that mission, because let’s just say he’s someone I need to keep an eye on. Well, something happened as we came up the stairs. He was right in front of me. In fact, I had my hand on his shoulder—until he disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Vanished, from right under my palm.” Fedorov held up his right hand. “He didn’t make it to this time, and I think it is because he lost physical contact with the man in front of him, and…. Ended up somewhere else.”
“You say he was right in front of you?”
“Yes. I was the last man in the line as we came up.”
“Then how is it you made it here—to this precise time? If he lost contact, wouldn’t that affect you as well?”
“I thought as much, but it seems Time wanted me here. That’s the only way I can explain it. Yet Orlov is gone—missing—and I have absolutely no idea what may have happened to him.”
“Might he have stayed right there in 1908?”
“I certainly hope not. I was trying to ascertain that when your Lieutenant came along. From what I could see, he was not on the stairs, and he didn’t get by me. At least I don’t think he did.”
“Then where did he go?”
“Using the tortured logic I’ve come to embrace concerning all of this movement in time,” said Fedorov, “he could not appear in any time where he already existed.”
“Karpov did.”
“Yes, but those were very strange circumstances.”
“Events on that stairway could hardly be described otherwise,” said Tyrenkov.
“True, but this particular fissure through time has been very consistent. The connection it makes to 1908 has persisted over decades. Orlov was going up the stairs, and any movement in that direction has always produced a movement forward in time. Who knows where he may end up, but I think it will have to be a time after the arrival of our ship, and after the time we vanished over the hypocenter of Tunguska. I could be wrong. I suppose he could have appeared prior to the 30th of June, 1940 as well, and I intend to look into that. Orlov has a way of blundering about—a bit of a bull in a china closet. If he did appear before that hour and day, then I might find out about it in the history. Your intelligence network would be very useful.”
“My network is at your service,” said Tyrenkov. “In fact, once Big Brother hears about this, I know what my orders will be already.”
“Find Orlov,” said Fedorov. “That’s been my own little bailiwick in all of this business. The last time he went missing—well let’s just say that a good many dominoes fell after that. He’s dangerous, what I might call a free radical in time. He changes things, not willfully, but unknowingly, and the effect he might have on events occurring after he appears is impossible to calculate, though I fear it would be profound.”
“I understand,” said Tyrenkov. “Yes, quite a nice little problem. I’ll put my men on this at once.”
Fedorov smiled. “Mister Tyrenkov,” he said quietly. “It seems that you are not just anyone either. I think we have come to an understanding here, but let me say one thing more. I’ll take your offer for a ride on the Abakan, and I’ve decided we’ll be going back to Kirov—the ship, not the man—because there’s a war on here, and I’ve decided it has to be won.”