When the wheels touched down in Archangel, the three men had been well fed and were wearing warm clothes. It was a minor airport that basically received cargo planes from across Russia. Their aircraft blended in well, and nobody questioned them when they disembarked. Mohsen still stayed in between George and Andri, though neither made an attempt to really speak to the other.
A car was waiting to drive them to the docks. George had seen the port before they landed. It was a mess of barges, cargo ships, and freighters. A thin layer of spring ice covered the relatively calm waters. Ships coming and going left trails for the rest to follow until they reached the open water. Icebreakers were moored nearby, ready for their brief rest while summer settled in. After that, the autumn cold would put them back to work until the ice became too thick.
The docks were as filthy as they looked from the sky. There were piles of goods everywhere, and no one to haul them away. The support systems had broken down and were taking an unusually long time to get reestablished. Some trucks showed up, but not enough to rescue most of the perishables from the cool spring nights.
Their car stopped next to an old freighter tied to pier number six. Rust covered the hull, and it appeared it would fall apart at any moment. It rode halfway out of the water, indicating that it had been loaded, but not filled to capacity. Except for a few lights, the ship was basically dead. Andri bounded up the gangplank and met the captain, Sergei Losttomovich, at the top. Mohsen and George followed, catching the conversation as they neared.
“Has anyone else arrived?” Andri was eager for news.
“Everyone but the bus from Saint Petersburg. I did receive word that it left. I do expect them soon.” Sergei was light enough about the subject, yet his serious side was apparent. “These are the guests?”
“Yes. These men will be traveling with us.” Andri’s concern about the two had changed. He seemed to dismiss George and Mohsen as unimportant.
George felt his position losing ground. Mohsen was oblivious to the situation.
“Good.” Sergei’s demeanor took on a happier tone. “Then we can do business right now.”
Andri stopped him cold. “The deal is you get paid when we breach. Not before. If we are unsuccessful, you don’t collect.”
Sergei fumed quietly, but it didn’t matter. He only wanted to see the money more than anything. He didn’t like being snapped at, especially on his own ship. “I agree, that was said. Just remember, we all will be in the middle of the ocean when payment time comes.” He reached over and slapped the case George was holding. “There had better be money in there. The ocean is a cold place this time of year.”
The uneasy silence that encompassed them was broken by a bus rumbling around the corner and stopping next to the freighter. Sasha exited, with his crew behind him. “Captain Stemovich,” he chirped.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Related Ideas, Different Paths
“Come, Sasha. Don’t waste time.” Marina heard the words from one man standing on the freighter. She, like Nick and the others, stepped off the bus and began surveying the surroundings. They were all fatigued and needed some exercise. They hadn’t stopped the entire trip except for two refuelings. The bus did come equipped with a toilet — something rare in Russia — but during the ride the men had dribbled on the seat, and Marina refused to let herself sit down. It was the first taste of what it would be like to live in close quarters.
Single file they all walked up the gangplank to the witness of Andri, George, Mohsen, and Sergei. Sasha stood them in line as a poor muster of personnel and presented each man and the position for which he thought the person qualified. Nick listened as the tasks were dealt to each individual, and he thought them menial as far as positions on a sub were concerned. Most of the jobs basically dealt with watching gauges and charts and reporting anything abnormal. Nick was assigned the duty of nuclear reactor tech. This led him to believe that Andri had already filled the crucial positions with others. Probably with men he could trust.
He was somewhat apprehensive about meeting Stemovich because he knew that he had worked under his grandfather. It made him a little paranoid. He noticed that Andri kept staring at him. To his dismay, he was right. Stemovich approached, with Sasha glued to his shoulder.
“You will regulate the power plant?” Andri’s gaze made Nick uneasy.
“He served on the Catherine,” Sasha said.
“The Catherine? Dangerous ship on which to serve.” Andri maintained his stare. “You seem familiar.”
Nick was ready to sweat. He looked too much like his grandfather. “I would remember, sir. I don’t believe we have met.”
“I suppose not.” Nick had been the first to refer to Andri as “sir.” It satisfied his ego, and he found favor with Nick because of it. A bonus was that it established a small sense of trust with him and Andri’s stare became less intense. “What is your name?”
“Nicholas Kulakov.”
“Good, Nicholas. I’m glad to have you with me.”
Marina had stood next to Nick in wonderment at how he quickly he had endeared himself to the captain. Again, in a tight situation, he had said just enough of the right thing to get him by.
Andri’s attitude changed when he glared at Marina. “You are to monitor communications?” Marina didn’t back down from the tone. “Yes. I will do a very good job.”
Sasha was a little edgy. Clearly Andri didn’t think Marina was a good choice, and it reflected badly on him. “She was the only one qualified. The rest were no good,” he said.
“I will not be responsible for her safety.” Andri turned to Sasha and held one eye on Marina. “You will have a single task at an appointed time. Before that moment, I expect you to stay unseen until you are needed.”
“Understood.” Marina didn’t worry about her safety. That was one thing she was sure she could control.
Andri left without saying anything else. He pulled Sasha aside and gave a few last-minute instructions. Then he signaled George and Mohsen to follow. The final utterance was an order to Sergei. “Let’s get underway.”
Only two people had things to do on the War Eagle—the sonar operator and Josh. The rest of the crew had to wait as the ship sat under the breaking ice pack, listening.
It was quiet in the RRCC. McLeary had left to catch a few winks while O’Neil tuned into some local Russian radio. He didn’t understand the language, but he did find a station that played rock ’n’ roll, Russian style. It sounded more like punk, so he kept it on his headphones.
Josh had been putting the finishing touches on ODIS’s orbits around the globe. The ship, being in shallow waters and the receiver greatly improved, was able to see several subs sleeping on the bottom.
He had done every task he could think of to prepare for that moment, and he was satisfied that he was ready. Bored, he began playing with ODIS’s lenses. Josh had tapped into a few satellites early, before they flew over his position, to check as far east as he possibly could. Because he was now farther north than Houston, he discovered that he had greater control and a larger window for him to use in his observation. Sometimes it helps to get out of the office. Satellites that were coming into position over the Barents he easily picked up and activated as they passed across Latvia, Estonia, Saint Petersburg, and the White Sea.
There was not much to look at. Early spring was always a season when people kept themselves inside with the windows closed. Yet he still hoped for that one chance that he might catch someone doing something interesting. The lens was passing right over the port at Saint Petersburg when the picture struck Josh as odd. He checked his map against where the satellite was located and the area where the lens was aimed. Something wasn’t right. He sat up in his chair, disturbing O’Neil and prompting him to take off his headphones.