Without a single misgiving, the senior lieutenant had pledged to aid the zampolit in all that he asked.
After an oath of secrecy was exchanged, Leonov had followed Novikov into the bowels of Petropavlovsk’s KGB headquarters. Here he received an intricate briefing.
As Leonov now climbed the flight of stairs leading to the Vulkan’s attack center, he thought back to these events and shuddered. Before that encounter he had only been half alive. Since then, weak, selfish emotions had been wrenched from his body and buried in the wastes of a past life. Today, it was a new, enlightened Vasili Leonov who walked the sub’s deck.
No longer would base emotions get in his way. Now he had a goal to lead him unerringly onward. And how swiftly the attainment of this goal was proceeding!
At the moment, only a few short hours stood between the Vulkan and its final launch position. Not even the vessel’s weapons chief was included in their plotting.
The ultimate test of their power had come when the captain melted right before their eyes. Petyr Valenko was representative of all that was lacking in the officer corps. Unable to comprehend the grandeur of their vision, the captain had attempted a feeble show of resistance. It was because of the weakness of his convictions that he had subsequently failed. Conscious that no further obstacle now lay between them and their great scheme’s attainment, the senior lieutenant soundlessly ducked through the attack center’s open hatchway.
Leonov quickly spotted a familiar figure hunched intensely over a computer monitor screen in the compartment’s far wall. His puzzlement turned to concern as he realized that the console was for the warhead targeting system. Since the which man had no business there, the senior lieutenant snuck up behind Stefan Kuzmin and carefully peered over his shoulder. Only after catching a glance of the screen’s contents did Leonov break the hushed stillness.
“Interesting reading, isn’t it Comrade Warrant Officer?”
Startled, Stefan looked up with a shock. Before he could reply, Leonov said, “Spare me the excuses, Kuzmin. I’m well aware that the material you’re reading is of the utmost sensitivity. In fact, there are only three individuals on the Vulkan who are trusted with this particular access code. For such a traitorous act, I could shoot you right on the spot. But perhaps you’d — like to tell me what this is all about, before forcing me to such an extreme.”
Cautiously, Kuzmin turned to meet the senior lieutenant’s hard stare.
Perceiving that Leonov was too smart for any type of lie, he decided to confront him with the truth.
“I think there’s some confusion here as to who’s the traitor. Comrade Leonov. You didn’t really think that you could get by with this mad scheme, did you?”
“Whatever are you babbling about, Kuzmin? Quit changing the subject and tell me how you got this access code!”
Kuzmin took a deep breath and replied matter-of factly “We are most aware of your mutinous desires, Comrade Senior Lieutenant. I am to inform you that you no longer have control of this ship to do as you want.”
Leonov took a step backward and stifled a laugh.
“So now you’re giving me orders. Comrade Warrant Officer? Answer my original question, or risk instant arrest on charges of treason!” Deciding to go ahead with his bluff, Kuzmin said, “The Captain has informed us where the real source of treason exists. Both yourself and Ivan Novikov are asked to surrender without further violence.”
Unable to constrain his rising impatience, Leonov’s face reddened.
“That’s enough of this impertinence!
You are to consider yourself under detention. As of this moment, you are relieved of all your duties as warrant officer.”
As Leonov reached out to activate the intercom and enforce these orders, Kuzmin stood and knocked his hand away.
“Why, you insolent fool! I’ll see you hung for this!”
The Senior Lieutenant moved in to pin Kuzmin down. The which man was not about to surrender so easily. Stepping aside, he deflected Leonov’s hand with his left forearm, then jabbed him hard in the abdomen with his right fist. The blow temporarily knocked the wind out of Leonov. As he bent over, struggling for breath, his reddened face contorted into a painful sneer. Still gasping for air, Leonov managed to stand and swing out with a series of vicious left jabs.
Surprised by the quickness of Leonov’s recovery and his punches, Kuzmin stepped into a powerful right hook aimed squarely at__his““Jaw. Two more punches connected with his mouth and his nose. As blood streamed into his mouth, the which man knew he’d have to do something drastic to bring the senior officer down. Since he had always been a much better wrestler than a boxer, he tucked his head down and charged forward.
The attack center’s cramped confines served as his ally. In an attempt to step away from Kuzmin’s charge, Leonov stumbled over a deck-mounted chair and went crashing to the floor. The warrant officer took immediate advantage and flung himself down on Leonov’s stunned body. Rolling him onto his back, Kuzmin was able to pin down his left arm.
Leonov was aware of his desperate situation. In a last-ditch effort to save himself, he reached out with his right hand and blindly groped along the floorboard.
He could hardly believe it when his fingers latched onto the cold steel shaft of a large wrench. For once he was thankful for the sloppy incompetence of the crew member who had left the tool there. Utilizing the last of his strength, he swung the wrench upward and cracked its tip into the side of his adversary’s head. There was a dull thud and a loud groan as Stefan Kuzmin crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Leonov hastily pushed the inert body off of his own.
Oblivious to a variety of throbbing aches and pains, he managed to stand and briefly scanned the damage done by their scuffle. No equipment appeared disturbed, yet the deck was wet and sticky from the blood that still streamed from the which man nose and mouth. That could be cleaned up soon enough, and there would be no sign that the battle had ever happened.
The senior lieutenant reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of white surgical tape. Before applying it to his victim’s wrists and ankles, he turned to pick up the intercom. He activated the handset and spoke into its receiver breathlessly.
“Comrade Novikov, it’s Leonov. We seem to have one small problem.
Stefan Kuzmin has somehow stumbled on to our plans…. No, I’m almost certain that this is an isolated case. If you can get down here with a stretcher and blanket, we can wrap up what’s left of the mwhm&n and dump him with the captain…. Yes, Comrade, that’s an excellent idea.
By announcing that both men have come down with infectious hepatitis, who would question a proper quarantine? Please get down here quickly, though.”
As he hung up, Leonov exhaled a sigh of relief.
Once the warrant officer was stashed away, nothing would stand between them and their goal. With this thought in mind, he bent down and began wrapping Kuzmin’s wrists together.
For a full hour, Petyr Valenko waited beside the unconscious body of his friend. Aware of the passing time, he knew that unless Kuzmin came to soon, he’d have to initiate the vital task that still faced them alone.
He had feigned unconsciousness when the zampolit and the senior lieutenant had arrived with the ouch man bruised body. Thankfully, they had left quickly and Valenko was able to rise and begin ministering to his fallen friend.
Finding Kuzmin’s pulse strong and steady, Valenko had unwrapped the bonds and began working on the facial cuts that still oozed blood. The nastiest looking wound was a large, hand-sized bruise that started at the lower left side of Kuzmin’s skull and stretched down his neck. Most likely this was the blow that had led to his present comatose condition.