one. I’ve had the most uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching me of late. Round up these agents and deal with them.”
“Won’t that make Kymchek suspicious?”
“Of course it will. We wouldn’t want him to get too comfortable in that new uniform of his, would we?”
“I understand, sir.” Tyrenkov saluted, and withdrew, thinking things over.
So, you want Kolchak out of the picture, he mused. Very well, Admiral, I can arrange that. And yes, I will keep my place as your trusted Lieutenant for a time as well. But there may come another time when I have to deal with matters myself, and let us hope that you do not present any obstacles to me. After all, I control the entire intelligence network, don’t I. You will know only what I tell you, and in time you will do only what I tell you as well. But first things first—Kolchak.
Chapter 18
Tunguska rose into the darkening sky, with lightning licking the flanks of rising clouds, and the wind up at 30 knots. Air Commandant Bogrov eyed the barometer and wind speed indicators warily, knowing full well how unpredictable the weather could be in Siberia. Even in July, these sudden storms could rise over the marshy taiga, and produce occasional drenching rain.
His imperial majesty wants another storm, he thought. Why else would we be taking to the skies in these conditions? He noted Irkutsk and Novosibirsk riding at storm anchor on the new mooring towers that had been built, one at Kansk, the other at Ilanskiy. Abakan had pulled duty that morning for overwatch deployment, and was up high at 3000 meters to ride out the coming front.
We’d best steer northwest, right into the wind, thought Bogrov. That will slow us down considerably, but we’ll soon pick up the lower Yeseni River north of Krasnoyarsk, and I can follow that due north for a time so we can stay clear of nosy airship patrols that Volkov might have up out of Omsk. Then I’ll turn west, and fly well north of Omsk and head for Perm. Karpov wants to see how things are with his second army supporting the Soviets on the upper Volga. Rig for long haul operations, he says. That’s nearly 2500 kilometers to Perm, then another 1000 kilometers to Moscow. It appears his lord high minister of Western Siberia has a hankering to chat with Sergei Kirov again. Well enough. Our fate is tied to the Soviets now, so we had better get on the same page in this opera.
I’ll give Karpov one thing, he mused. The man knows a traitor when he sees one, and he won’t hesitate to do what is necessary here. Ivan Volkov is a demon from hell, and may he burn there for all eternity when this is all over. Word is the Germans are raising hell itself out west. They’ve taken Minsk, and now they’re hammering at the Fortifications outside Kiev. And up north they’ve already pushed within 150 kilometers of Smolensk. The whole center of the Soviet line has taken one blow after another from the news I’ve heard, and I hear quite a lot in my position.
So what’s on Karpov’s mind this time? Why the urgency to leave now, with the weather loading up and winds like this? Last time we steered for thunderheads things got very strange. That was after that first meeting in Moscow, and the audacious little run over Berlin.
Bogrov smiled, for that was the one moment in his tenure with Karpov where he actually thought he liked the man. The bastard had the audacity to bomb Berlin! It was nothing more than a pin prick, mere symbolism, but that took nerve. Herr Hitler isn’t likely to forget it, and so whatever Karpov is cooking up in the stew with Sergei Kirov, it had better be nice and hot. If things keep on out west as they are now, the Nazis will be closing in on Moscow by mid to late autumn. Then what? Can they take the place, or will General Winter show up and save the day for us as he did when another little tyrant thought he could beat us—Napoleon.
Yes, I almost thought I could like this man when he stuck it to Berlin. But that last maneuver he pulled in the fight with Volkov galled me, and a good many other men in the fleet. When he burned Big Red like that…. Well I wanted to choke the man. And that slap on the face he