“We fight for the Czar, for the flag of Imperial Russia,” Janeki said with gravel in his voice. “If you insult this command again, I’ll have you shot.”
“No offense intended,” Riordan let his eyes laugh at the man. “But if you try that, you’ll need your entire army.”
“Gentlemen!” Myslosovich said. “Please save your anger for the enemy. We need everyone we have to assure victory over the damned Dená.”
“Anger, General?” Riordan said with a wide grin. “No such thing. The good colonel here and I are just establishing our bonafides, as my sainted father used to say.”
Janeki visibly stifled a retort. Glancing around at the horizon, he called, “Sergeant Malute,” then held General Myslosovich with his gaze. “I have an expert tracker from Kamchatka; he can follow your dreams. He will find our missing traitors and their DSM accomplices, and we will hang them all.”
A small, bandy-legged man ran up, stopped at quivering attention, and saluted the colonel. “Sir?”
“I want to know where the villagers went.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
52
RCNS Mako
Village of Kilsnoo, Admiralty Island, Russian Amerika
“Up periscope,” Captain Vandenberg ordered.
He snapped down the control arms as the massive tube rose from its well and was peering through the lenses before the scope finished its ascent. He slowly went in a full circle before he relaxed and turned to the others on the small bridge deck.
“Well, no welcoming committee that I can see. Our security must be good.” His grin couldn’t disguise the tension in his eyes.
“Was someone to meet us in a boat?” Wing asked.
“No, Colonel, not at all. We’re actually going to tie up to a pier for all of five minutes while you folks disembark. I was just worried that word had slipped out about our visit.”
“Are all of your missions like this?” Grisha asked.
“Pretty much, General. This is one profession where paranoia is part of the job description.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Excuse me, General, I’ve got to get you delivered.” He turned away and shouted, “Chief of the Boat, make ready to surface!”
The chief was no more than six feet away. He shouted back, “Aye, aye, Captain! All hands prepare to surface!”
Activity quickened all through the submarine and Grisha and Wing watched it all with wide eyes and total lack of understanding as the vessel made sounds different than anything they had heard before. The deck tilted upward slightly. Sergeant Major Tobias eased up next to them.
“Never in my life did I think I would find myself in one of these things,” he muttered.
“Seems to work pretty good from what I’ve seen,” Grisha replied.
“Give me the open air,” Wing said. “I need to see my enemy.”
“I concur, Colonel,” Tobias said.
“Bridge watch to stations, line handling party to stations,” Vandenberg ordered. The submarine began to slowly rock from side to side.
Men raced up the ladder to the conning tower, threw open the hatch and disappeared through a shower of seawater. A sailor carrying heavy jackets appeared next to them.
“Compliments of the California Navy. You folks will need these foul weather jackets; the weather out there is pretty nasty.”
“Thank you!” Wing said with enthusiasm. “I was just wondering what to wear.”
The pockets of each coat revealed an indigo knitted watch cap and a pair of warm gloves.
“These fellows think of everything,” Tobias said.
They pulled on the gear and then followed Captain Vandenberg up the ladder. Two sailors helped them step onto the wet steel deck. Wind-whipped rain blew past at a forty-five-degree angle.
Grisha laughed. “Damn, it smells good here!”
“How can you inhale without drowning?” Wing shouted.
The Mako was being pushed up against a dock by a small log tug borrowed from the local sawmill. Men on the dock threw lines to sailors along the hull of the submarine. The lines were quickly secured and tightened, pulling the sub up snug against the large rubber fenders hanging down from the dock.
On the dock, a hoist lifted a gangway across and placed it between the dock and deck of the submarine. The chief bosun gave the captain a thumbs-up.
“Good luck, General,” Vandenberg shouted. “We’ll be in the area if you need to leave quickly.”
“Thank you, Captain. Our people owe you and your crew a party after this is all over.”
“We’ll look forward to it. Now, please let me get under way.”
Both men smiled and shook hands. Then Grisha, moving carefully on his crutches, followed Wing and Tobias as they hurried across the gangway to the dock where a group of people in oilskins waited in the stormy afternoon.
“Grisha, how good to see you, my cousin.” Paul Chernikoff extended his hand.
“Paul!” Grisha propped the crutches in his armpits and grabbed Paul’s hand with both of his. “It’s good to see you, too. Your brother sends his warm regards.” He lowered his voice, “You and I need to speak privately very soon.”
“I understand. Let’s get in out of the weather.”
He led them to an ancient Russian wood-burning omnibus. Once inside, the vehicle was pleasantly warm and cozy. Everyone pulled down hoods or removed rubberized mariners’ hats.
For a few seconds each party looked over the other. Then Paul grinned again.
“You look healthy, cousin.”
“Thanks. Except for an almost healed leg, I am. This is my wife, Colonel Wing Demoski Grigorievich, and Sergeant Major Nelson Tobias.”
“Paul, I would know you anywhere. You look just like your brother,” Wing said.
“Yeah, we get a lot of that. Welcome to Tlingit Country. Allow me to introduce our brand new diplomatic corps.”
Grisha glanced out the window. The Mako had already disappeared. He turned his attention to the group. The bus moved through the storm and down a small road between stands of sixty-foot hemlock and spruce.
“General Sobolof is head of the Tlingit Nation Army and on the War Council. Colonel Augustus Paul is from New Archangel, Colonel Gregori George is from Angoon, and Lieutenant Colonel Titian Bean is from T’angass. I am from Akku, as is General Grigorievich.”
“May I ask where we are being taken?” Grisha asked.
“To a safe place, Grisha,” General Sobolof said. “May we dispense with formality and call one another by the names we all know?”
“Of course, Vincent,” Grisha said smoothly. “If that’s how you wish it to be.”
“Good. How goes your war?”
“It isn’t just my war, it’s our war. The Imperial Russian government has ordered a cease of hostilities with the Dená Republik, the United States of America, and the Republic of California. However, I am told there is still a battle raging near Delta between a number of different armies, but I am sure we shall prevail.”
“So who are we fighting?” General Sobolof asked.
“Vincent, we are all fighting your two-faced ally, the Empire of Japan.”
“I know we are contemplating fighting Japan, but why are you?”
“We don’t want to fight them after they have made military gains in Alaska. Do you not agree?”
“Yes, I do agree. But to be very candid, Grisha, we haven’t much of an army to throw at them, and an even smaller navy.”
“Actually, I believe we are here to discuss something different,” Wing said. “Unification?”
“There are a number of viewpoints on that issue,” General Sobolof said carefully. “We realize that things must change, that things are changing whether we wish it so or not. But we are an ancient people and have become set in our cultural ways.”