“Are you certain you can’t stay but a little longer. Admiral? Why I was just about to initiate my closing remarks. And all of us were so looking forward to hearing you speak. Why we might never have such an honor again.”
Mikhail stretched his sore back and stifled a yawn.
“No, comrade, I’m afraid this old man’s had it. But I’ll tell you what. Once I’ve had a good rest, I’d be happy to continue on with this inspiring program. Is tomorrow afternoon at this same time convenient for you?”
The Zampolit looked out to the other occupants of the room and politely nodded.
“Though all of us will be sorry to see you go, we’d be honored to reinitiate this discussion in twenty-four hours. May your rest be peaceful, comrade.”
As Mikhail anxiously ducked out the aft hatchway, the Political Officer wasted no time returning to an explanation of the chart he had just uncovered.
Kharkov’s pace was somewhat slowed by an alien pain in his calves and knees. This was most likely an aftereffect of his hike through the deep snow drifts earlier. A couple of aspirin and a hot toddy would soon take the aches away, so he might focus on the vital task that still faced him.
As the admiral hurriedly crossed through the officer’s wardroom, he was somewhat surprised to find the Neva’s senior lieutenant standing idly in front of the shut door of Mikhail’s cabin. Viktor Belenko seemed to be an efficient officer who had been rather emotionless and tight-lipped to this point. Yet upon spotting Kharkov, his eyes opened wide and he immediately stepped forward to greet him.
“Why, Admiral, you’re just the man I was thinking about. How did the Komsomol meeting go? It certainly didn’t last very long.”
Mikhail grunted.
“Actually, I excused myself early. I’m afraid the aftereffects of my excursion on the ice have finally caught up with me.”
“I thought that might be the case,” offered the senior lieutenant somewhat nervously. “I can’t help but admit that I was surprised when you agreed to attend the Komsomol meeting so soon after your return. How about me getting you some lunch? The cook has brewed up a pot of his specialty — Ukrainian borscht — and I’m certain you won’t be disappointed.
Just come and have a seat at the wardroom table, and I’ll take care of all the rest.”
The admiral shook his head.
“You’re much too kind. Senior Lieutenant. But right now fatigue has overcome my hunger. After a couple of hours’ rest, I’ll be happy to take you up on your offer.”
“It’s not healthy to go to bed on an empty stomach, Admiral. You could get ulcers that way.”
Mikhail patted his stomach.
“Your concerns are noted, comrade. But this old belly of mine has served me well, and a missed meal now and then hasn’t seemed to have bothered it any. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off to my bunk now.”
Seemingly deaf to this request, Viktor Belenko voiced himself anew.
“Before turning in, perhaps you’d like to see that stealth, equipment you were asking about earlier. We’re just about to activate it, and this is the perfect time to see how this amazing system operates.”
A bit aggravated by the officer’s persistent rambling, Mikhail’s tone sharpened.
“Please, Comrade Belenko! All I want to do is to get into my stateroom. Is that too much to ask?”
Without waiting for a response, he pushed the senior lieutenant aside, inserted his key into the door’s lock, and after quickly ducking inside, slammed the door shut behind him. He was in the process of exhaling a breath of relief, when he realized with a start that he wasn’t alone. Seated at the cabin’s cramped desk, a pair of lightweight headphones clamped over his ears, was Captain Sergei Markova. At his feet was the now opened cockpit voice recorder!
As his face flushed with anger, the admiral asked, “Are you finding anything interesting. Captain?”
Sergei Markova’s astonishment at being discovered was tempered by the equally shocking contents of the tape he had been listening to. Taking a moment to switch off his cassette player, he peeled off the headphones and replied.
“As a matter of fact, I am, Admiral. Because as you’ll soon hear for yourself, it wasn’t an American F-15 that was responsible for taking down the Flying Kremlin, it was a bomb!”
As a look of puzzlement etched the veteran’s face, Sergei excitedly said, “Here, listen for yourself. The voices are a bit muddled, but the sequence of events is startling clear. It all seems to have started when an incendiary device ignited inside the console holding the Il-76’s communications’ equipment. As they lost the effective use of their radio, the fire spread, until the plane’s operational systems were affected. At this point the Il–76 lost altitude and swerved off course, as the crew valiantly fought to control the choking flames. And in the process of this desperate struggle, yet another bomb was found attached to an avionic’s panel. This device had yet to detonate, and appears to have been controlled by some sort of timing mechanism, for you can hear the frantic cries of the flight crew as they struggled to disarm it.”
Taking a moment to control his rising emotions, Sergei somberly continued.
“Soon afterward an ear-shattering explosion overrode their shouts of concern, and was followed by the sickening, wrenching sounds of the plane breaking apart and proceeding to fall from the skies.
“Yet one thing still confuses me. Admiral. Upon opening my safe, I found yet another cassette tape lying beside the sealed black box. It proved to be constructed exactly like that tape inside the cockpit voice recorder. It had the same stainless-steel casing. Yet when listening to it, I found it filled with nothing but undecipherable static.”
“You had no business doing such a thing!” the enraged admiral protested. “I demand that you hand over both of these tapes at once. Captain Markova. Or the severest penalties possible will be applied to you.”
“And why is that?” Sergei dared ask. “Is it because you knew what was on the original tape, and intended to switch it for the other one you brought along?”
Conscious that the intuitive young officer still had no real proof of this, the veteran mariner decided to try another tack. Instead of trying to directly confront him, he would now attempt to win him over.
With a shrug of his shoulders, and the barest of forced smiles, the Admiral of the Fleet addressed Markova.
“You are most astute. Captain. And since it would be a waste of my breath to attempt to deceive you, I’ll be frank. Yes, my friend, it was a series of bombs that took down the Premier’s plane. And not only did I know this long before I recovered the aircraft’s black box, I was responsible for having these devices placed in the Il–76 as well.”
This shocking revelation caused Sergei to gasp.
“But that would mean you intentionally murdered Alexander Suratov!”
The Admiral of the Fleet nodded somberly.
“But before you condemn me to the firing squad, please take a moment to listen to our motives. For you see, I was not alone in this plot. Dozens of the highest-ranking members of the Defense Ministry worked at my side to see it through. And don’t think that it was an easy thing to do.
“Alexander Suratov was a dedicated public servant. I knew him well, and to order his death and that of his staff and the Flying Kremlin’s flight crew was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do in my five decades of service to the Motherland. But believe me. Captain, I had no other choice!”
Fighting to control his emotions, the veteran continued.
“It all started when Suratov began making those unprecedented peace overtures to the West. Though we all desire to see a world free from war, our naive Premier was trying to make it come to pass without establishing the proper groundwork. This really came to the forefront when he secretly announced his plan to demilitarize the Arctic in conjunction with the United States and Canada. As you can expect, the Imperialists jumped at this opportunity, and the Ottawa summit was hastily set up to seal the agreement in treaty form.