“Alright, back the way we came, and we’ll get ourselves into that tree line north of the rail leading east. Once we get well away we’ll signal the Narva to arrange for an extraction point.”
The men had picked up all their equipment and began moving quickly through the narrow streets until they passed the tin roofed warehouse buildings by the rail yard. From there they sprinted across a 300 meter clearing and back into the woods that would take them to the culvert and small railroad bridge. Even as they went, Troyak looked over his shoulder to see the massive shape of yet another zeppelin descending from the clouds over the small town. Its guns began to blast away at targets on the ground, but he gave it no mind. His mission was accomplished.
The back stairway at Ilanskiy no longer existed.
Karpov had been up on high overwatch in the Abakan, worried about that third airship out there somewhere. He was listening to the radio traffic as Andarva continued its pursuit, and keeping one eye on his Topaz radar system, bothered that the strange interference was limiting its effectiveness now. Volkov must have rigged some kind of jammers for that frequency. I’ll need to see if I can get the engineers to figure out frequency modulation and find some ways of hardening my equipment. This damn war is only beginning, and there isn’t anything in any of Fedorov’s history books about any of it. Not here.
The news had also come in on signals traffic that confirmed Volkov’s treachery. Six divisions had crossed the western border. The 17th, 21st and 11th Orenburg divisions were all pushing for Omsk. South of that city, the 9th, 22nd Air Mobile and 15th divisions had crossed the border in a drive towards the Ob river line positions near Barnaul. At least four more airships had crossed there on overwatch, and all he had to oppose them near Barnaul was old Krasny. The men in the Aero Corps called it Big Red, due to the dull red tarp used on its outer shell. It’s real name was the Krasnoyarsk, and he knew that he would now either have to pull that airship out of there or Big Red would likely be a flaming wreck within 48 hours.
The third airship he had been watching for seemed very close on radar, then it withdrew north, possibly discouraged when they saw Abakan was on to them and heading their way, or so he thought. Then he got the news that there were Grey Legionnaires on the ground and attacking Ilanskiy, and he turned Abakan about, heading back to the town.
He followed the action closely on radio, learning of Angara’s fate, alive but unable to maneuver and out of the fight. When the Oskemen doubled back to lend fire support to the Legionnaires on the ground, he pressed Abakan into a rapid descent, intent on getting down there to engage. When he arrived, however, the matter had already been settled. The sight of the flaming duralumin skeleton and the wreckage of the Oskemen on the ground gave him heart. We took down two of Volkov’s airships!
Three hours later he was on the ground, his mood considerably darkened as he stared at another pile of wreckage, this time at the site of the railway inn.
How did Volkov know, he asked himself? That was obviously why he risked those airships and all his men here today-to get a demolition team in here and take out that back stairway.
“What happened to my guards here?” He could see no bodies.
“Sir,” said a nearby Lieutenant. “The heavy platoon you sent relieved them and took over this position.”
“Heavy platoon?” Karpov gave him a strange look.
“Yes sir. They were the ones who took down that second zeppelin. Damn thing was giving us hell, and they just blasted it from the sky. When can my men get their hands on those weapons, sir?”
What was this man talking about? Karpov questioned the Lieutenant further and soon got a description of the men from this platoon, which struck a hard chord in him.
“These men,” he said quickly, “they all wore this black camouflage uniform? And did you see any unit designation?”
The Lieutenant thought, then he remembered the odd shoulder patch he had seen. “Yes sir. It read ‘Maritime Infantry,’ a symbol of a ship’s anchor, gold on black.”
“And above that a white skull wearing a black beret?”
“Yes sir. That was it! They said they were a special unit, sent to assume this post under your direct orders. I didn’t know we had such men. They were fearsome. Stopped that zeppelin with two shots!”
Karpov’s eyes narrowed. Maritime Infantry, he thought, the Black Death! My God, that was Troyak and his naval Marines! Who else could knock down an airship like the Oskemen with two shots? They must have used shoulder fired SAMs, or even heavy anti-tank weapons. Damn! Volsky and Fedorov were behind this. Who else? The men reported spotting a parachute operation before this ground assault. Did they come here aboard the Oskemen? Were they working with Volkov now?
Then he remembered that third airship, the one he had detected and approached in the heat of the battle. There had suddenly been odd interference on his radio sets and the Topaz radar system went completely bonkers. That was it! Jammers! They must have come aboard that third ship. Symenko said he had no knowledge of it, and I’ll soon revisit that question with him. If this is so, then it was either a third ship sent by Volkov… No! Now he remembered the letter Volkov had sent him. Kirov was spotted at Murmansk. So perhaps they came on one of the Soviet airships. They still had two or three airships up north. It’s the only thing that made any sense. How would Troyak and his men be working with Volkov with Kirov all nice and cozy in Murmansk?… Unless that letter was a lie, and meant to misdirect me.
Now the scene of the demolished back stairway took on a whole new meaning. Fedorov, he thought. But how would he know about those stairs? His damn history books, that’s how. He must have dug something up.
He gritted his teeth, a disgusted look on his face, and no one around him wanted to meet his eye. The scar on his cheek seemed just a little more twisted and evil looking, and his eyes smoldered with inner anger.
“Lieutenant!” he said sharply.
“Sir!”
“Take as many men as you need and go house to house. Turn out everyone in this village and find me the man who owns that railway inn.” He pointed a thin finger at the wreckage.
It wasn’t all gone, he thought. Most of the lobby area, the main stairway and a portion of the upper floor are still intact. Someone built the damn thing. There would have been plans.
Yes… plans. That was what he was sifting through in his mind now. First he would find out who built this inn, the architect, the carpenters, the plans.
After that he had plans of his own.
Part VI
“The planner is a potential dictator who wants to deprive all other people of the power to plan and act according to their own plans. He aims at one thing only: the exclusive absolute preeminence of his own plan.”
Chapter 16
It was the final hours of the long conference with the British on the Faeroes, and there was a restless energy about the ship. It was a kind of tension, like a bow string held taut, waiting for the moment of release that was sure to come. These hours of quiet had been good for the ship and crew, but Volsky knew they all would have an enormous amount of work ahead of them in the days and weeks ahead, and the sense that they were slowly running out of time seemed to prey upon him. The war was so enormous, so all consuming. How could they make a difference-just one single ship?
Admiral Volsky leaned back, eyeing the empty glass of brandy on the table as he took one final meeting with Tovey, his eye drawn to the candle on the centerpiece, casting its warm glow as it was slowly consumed by the flames. Time, he thought. Yes, time is the fire in which we all burn. Yet how is it I have been spared my inevitable demise in those flames? Or have I? Even though I find myself here before my own time, I don’t think the second hand of my own clock has been wound back. I’m certainly not getting any younger for all this travail. Wiser, perhaps, but I still spend my days like that candle, no matter what table I find myself on, and my glass of brandy empties with every sip I take, just like everyone else here. So how many days are left to me?