Then, Gustav Turchin had seemed unshakeable. He had been a rock of a man. Blockily built, square of face and short in the neck — with a shock of black hair, bushy black eyebrows, dark, glinting eyes over a blunt nose, and an unemotional mouth — he had been a veritable bulldog. But even then the Premier had had problems. Coinciding with Trask's, they had served to bring the two together in a mutually beneficial understanding.
Now… there had been changes. Turchin was a lot thinner, grey-streaked where his hair was brushed back from his temples, less bright and sharp of eye; even his voice had lost something of its former authority. The intellect was still there — still lethal, Trask supposed — but the drive was failing. Seven years of political power, and nothing to show for it, had taken their toll of him.
But the way the Russian Premier was studying Trask… the head of E-Branch couldn't suppress a snort of self-derision. If he found Turchin changed, what must Turchin think of him? As if reading his mind, the other said:
'The years haven't been kind to us.'
And Trask smiled wrily and answered, 'It's not so much the years as the mileage.' Then he stopped smiling and said, 'We've not long had definite evidence about what your navy is doing. I certainly won't be saying anything about it here in Brisbane. I wouldn't embarrass you like that. In fact, I'm not here on Earth Year business at all, and I doubt if I'll attend a single session. But you should know that sooner or later — probably sooner — I'll have to bring it to the attention of our Minister Responsible, and that he has obligations, too.'
'I appreciate that, er, Benjamin?' 'Ben.'
'Then by all means call me Gustav. But you are not the only one whose purpose here is other than it seems. Indeed, I am here simply because you are here! Oh, they have been badgering me to attend these things all over the world, but so far I've managed to hold them off. The admirals, generals, despoilers, et cetera, requiring me to lie for them — huh! Well, and now that I'm here I shall lie for them, telling Brisbane and all the world of the marvellous efforts Russia is making to clean up her act. But you and I, we know the truth. And, as you have pointed out, so will everyone else in the not too distant future. Unfortunately, that is the least of my worries — or if not the least, it is not my major concern. No, for that is something else entirely.'
Trask nodded. He remained silent and thoughtful for a few moments, then said, 'Perhaps I can anticipate you? I think it's only fair to tell you that I'm also aware that Mikhail
Suvorov has led an alleged "expeditionary" party of soldiers and scientists through the Perchorsk Gate into Sunside/Starside, Nathan Keogh's world.'
Now it was Gustav Turchin's turn to smile wrily. 'Ah!' he said. 'The Opposition! And sharp as ever. Yes, and you are correct: that is my problem. But, alas, it's also yours.'
'Probably more than you suspect,' said Trask. 'But perhaps I should hear your side of the story first.'
'My side is simple,' said the other. 'Five years ago, when Turkur Tzonov escaped justice in Perchorsk by fleeing into Starside, some of his dupes were taken prisoner. That was a mistake on my part; I should have had them shot for mutiny, conspiracy, desertion of duty, sabotage… oh, half a dozen charges. But I didn't, and one of them talked to Mikhail Suvorov. Not the best possible move, for fehad them shot! Or rather, he saw to their disposal. There were several very unfortunate accidents.'
Trask understood, and said, 'Which left General Suvorov as the sole heir to whatever he could steal from Sunside/Starside. He knew that the Gate would lead him into an alien world, knew about the gold, and wanted it for himself
'The gold and whatever else he could find there,' Turchin answered. 'A whole new world, which he would annex and rape for its riches. And he would have control of the Gate. Why, in retrospect it seems perfectly obvious: if Suvorov had wanted these things for the good of his country, for Russia — which was what he told me — then surely he would have explained his purpose to everyone; to his military colleagues and the whole country, and not just… not just to me.' He turned his face away.
'He told you he was going through the Gate? And you didn't try to stop him?' Trask believed he understood something of the predicament Turchin must have faced, but wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth.
'How could I stop him?' Turchin threw up his hands. 'After the Perchorsk Complex was flooded, a task force of military engineers was sent in to strip and salvage lead from the shielding in the ravine. That was what I was led to believe, though later it turned out that wasn't all they were there for. Anyway, many of these men were long-term criminals from the punishment garrisons at Beresov and Ukhta. Hand-picked by Mikhail Suvorov, they had been given the choice of serving out their sentences or serving him: his first step towards securing Perchorsk. In return, and after the job was done and everyone else had moved out, Suvorov let them stay on and turn the dry upper levels into living quarters serviced by hydroelectric power from the dam. They had vehicles, and documentation that allowed them to resupply themselves from Beresov. From then on they were the "official" team of engineers, responsible for servicing and running the dam. As for the dam's continued existence: that was easily justified in that the bulk of its electrical power had been re-routed to the service of local logging camps and other communities…'
'And you were in the dark about all this?' Despite Trask's respect for the other — and the fact that so far the Premier's every word had been the truth — still he was relentless in his pusuit of all the answers.
'I was kept in the dark about it!' Turchin told him. 'Ben, I don't control the armed forces and I never have. If they want me to know something, then they tell me. And if I require their services, I tell them. And that's it.'
'Bringing a democracy to life isn't easy,' Trask said. 'Neither is killing Communism!' said the other, then went on to explain: 'Oh, they are still there, the hard-liners. And so we're — how do you say it — between a rock and a hard place? The old guard on the one hand, and all the greedy opportunists, like Suvorov, on the other. Do you know what happens to a Russian bank if it runs out of money?'
Trask shrugged. 'It goes bankrupt?'
'No, they turn it into a pizza house! Huh! Among the Muscovites, that is currently a "joke." Here's another that's not so funny: what does a General do when there's no money
to fund his parades or pay his troops, and his pension's only good for cheap vodka and cabbage soup?'
And Trask nodded. 'He goes gold-prospecting. But you know, no one lives forever. Not me and not you. Somewhere there must be documentation on the Perchorsk Project, the Gate, the complex, and everything that happened there. While we're alive, of course we'll do our best to protect such records, such secrets. But when we're dead or no longer in office — what then? If not Suvorov, sooner or later someone else would have tried it.'
'I thought of that a long time ago,' said Turchin. 'Also, I liked Nathan and I'm sure I would like his people. There was something about him that was very Russian, you know? And in my way, well, I'm a humanitarian, too… you'll just have to take my word for that. So, I took what precautions I could.'
'Precautions?'
'Long before Mikhail Suvorov found out about Perchorsk, I was destroying everything I could find on that place. Every bit of documentation, records, reports, you name it. Not the experiment, you understand, not the Projekt itself — for it's better that men should learn from their mistakes — but the horror that came after it, the very knowledge of a vampire world. And I was quite successful, perhaps even too successful. For now… why, even the so-called Opposition knows a lot more about it than I do, and certainly more than anyone else!'