Men of War (2013) (24 page)

“Leonid,
you forgot to take your new leather gloves,” she said, remembering that last
fitful worry she had clung to when he left her.

“You
packed them for the move?”

“Of
course, but you know how cold your hands always get on those ships. You’ll
forget your head one day.”

“But
I’ll not forget you…”

The
silence between them on the line was enough, a long distended fiber of the love
they had shared together for decades. The Admiral smiled inwardly at the
memory, grateful that the two ends of time that had been rejoined had left them
together as man and wife, unlike the sad fate of Voloshin. Some things, he
realized, were simply meant to be, in this world or in any other.

Volsky
settled in to Abramov’s desk, putting his personal things aside in a drawer and
trying to clear his mind for the difficult days that would surely lay ahead.
Talanov was back in ten minutes as promised, a look of concern in his eyes.

“There’s
been a development,” he said flatly. “The Japanese have escalated the
situation. They’ve sent a couple of their new DDH class helicopter destroyers
and put men on the main island.”

“The
landing was opposed?” Volsky asked the obvious next question.

“It
was, sir and hostilities have renewed. The Chinese fired on the helicopters as
they made their approach and the Japanese took out that ship, one of the new
Chinese Type 054 class frigates, the
Weifang
.”

“They
sunk it? What has suddenly possessed the Japanese? For decades they were
content to sit in their islands and build the world’s best cars and
electronics. Now this!”

“It’s
that new Prime Minister, sir. You know the old Chinese proverb.”

“What
is that?” the Admiral asked.

“A
newly appointed official burns three fires. They tend to overdo things, and Mr.
Amori
has taken a very hard line concerning matters
related to Japanese territorial claims.”

“Yes,”
said Volsky. “Particularly when they sit atop a lot of potential oil and gas contracts.
And what are the Chinese doing?”

“There
was an air duel between fighters off Okinawa and mainland China, and then the
icing on the cake.”

“Something
tells me I do not wish to hear what followed.”

“A
ballistic missile strike, sir.
DongFeng
15s and 21s.
The Chinese hit one of the Japanese DDH class ships. It went down about two
hours ago in the East China Sea. Missiles also struck Naha airfield on Okinawa.
Conventional warheads, but a rather daring escalation. Those islands are still
disputed territory, but there is no question about Okinawa. That is the home
soil of the Japanese nation.”

“Yes,”
Volsky had a worried look now, his thoughts bouncing from shadowed memories of
blackened cities to the rapid pulse of these current events.

“I
don’t think they were quite prepared for this level of conflict, sir. They sent
only one flotilla of three ships, and the Japanese overmatched them. One of
their helo carriers has deployed the new American Joint Strike Fighter.”

“My
Mister Fedorov would be able to tell me all about them. Well, the Japanese have
a bad habit of catching their adversaries unprepared and paying a high price
for it. Look what they did at Pearl Harbor.”

“Pearl
Harbor, sir?”

The
Admiral suddenly realized he had stumbled, and made a recovery in the easiest
way possible. For he, too, was a newly appointed official, and so he just
decided to start burning a few fires of his own.

“Never
mind the Japanese for the moment, Talanov. When will you have Moscow on the
line?”

“
Zhakarov
is holding now, sir. We are waiting for Suchkov.”

“Yes,
we’ve been waiting for him to retire for years,” said Volsky, and it brought a
knowing smile to Talanov’s eyes.

“It
should just be a few minutes more, Admiral.”

How
true, thought Volsky. It is coming down to minutes and seconds on that alarm
clock bomb again, and God help us this time, because after that comes the
abyss.

Chapter 18

Karpov
was doing something he seldom ever did before. He was walking the ship, just as
Volsky might have done, and he was talking with the men, listening to them,
hearing their concerns and seeing what he might do to help them. He worked the
ship from bow to stern, checking on the progress of all work being done and
encouraging the crews to get ready for action. He admired their determination
and sense of duty, the smooth, easy way they cooperated with the junior
officers, the confidence that seemed to underlie their every movement now. This
was a ship of veteran sailors, and he was proud to be its Captain. He knew he
still had a few bills to pay for what he had done in the Atlantic, and now he
went to see about one of them.

When
he found Troyak he was busy supervising the load-out operations for the sole
KA-40 on the helo deck. The stalwart Marine Sergeant saluted and Karpov asked
him to walk with him to the starboard gunwale.

“The
men look good, Sergeant. How are they feeling?”

“They
are in good shape, sir.
Mantek
had a problem with
home, but the others enjoyed a good long shore leave this last week.”

“What
was wrong with
Mantek
?”

“Girlfriends,”
Troyak smiled.

“I
understand. And what about you, Sergeant? Where is home for you?”

“
Provideniya
, sir. A little place on the Chukchi peninsula.”

“Have
you called home? I hope all is well.”

“It’s
still there, sir.”

Karpov
smiled. Then he changed his tone, his voice lowering somewhat. “That was not
the case with a few other men,” he confided. “One came home to find his wife
with another man; another could not even find his apartment here in the city.
Things have changed, Troyak, do you understand this?”

“Not
exactly, sir.”

“That
makes two of us. But I think our Mister Fedorov will sort the matter out for us
both one day. In the meantime…” He gave Troyak a long look. “Sergeant, I have
come to apologize to you for what I did in the Atlantic; for the position I put
you and your men in, trying to set you in opposition to the Admiral. I was a
stupid fool. I should have been severely punished, and instead I was handed
forgiveness. I am here to see if you might spare me a little as well.”

Troyak
nodded gravely, and the Captain continued.

“I
was wrong to do what I did, and I have only the Admiral’s grace to hold for the
fact that I am standing here now and still wearing these stripes. I should be
in the Brig, or worse, but Volsky gave me this chance and I am pledged to the
service of this ship. I won’t let him down, or this crew down, ever again.
Understand?”

“Sir,
yes sir.”

Karpov
smiled. “I finally learned something that you have known for some time,
Troyak.”

“Sir?”

“The
meaning of the word duty.”

The
doughty Sergeant nodded silently, understanding. Now Karpov folded his arms,
taking the stance of a commanding officer briefing a subordinate, but there was
something more in his tone. He was taking Troyak into his confidence, and the
Sergeant could hear it plainly.

“Admiral
Volsky has been summoned to Naval Headquarters at Fokino. I believe he will be
assuming command there, and thank God for that. Now that leaves us to do what
we can here. There has been an incident in the East China Sea, Sergeant. The
Chinese and Japanese are at it again, only this time it looks serious. It’s
very likely that we will be called to action again soon. I just wanted you to
know, one man of war to another.”

Troyak
remembered the last time Karpov had placed himself in the same rank and file as
he was with his Marines. He recalled how he had inwardly distained the remark,
but this time things were different. He had heard the stories the men still
told about Karpov on the bridge. The junior officers rotating down to the lower
decks had painted the picture very sharply.
The enemy was right on top of
us, but Karpov saved the ship. They were coming at us from all sides, but
Karpov was cold as ice, and he stopped them! The big enemy battleship was
trying to stick it to us, but not with the Captain on the bridge. Karpov gave
them hell!
He knew he was now standing with a man of his own ilk, another
warrior in the stream of life, and yes, a man of war. Karpov’s strength was not
in his shoulders or arms, but he had stood his watch on the wall, and he had
fought and delivered the ship safely home again. Troyak nodded, and conferred
both his absolution and acceptance of the other man in that one simple gesture.

“You
can rely on me, sir.”

“Yes…But
I think that will be the easy part for us, Sergeant Troyak. When it comes to a
fight we will know what to do easily enough. Yet we have both seen what was
left of the world on one black day after another. Something tells me we are
steering a course that way even as we speak. I don’t know how yet, or what we
can do about it. I once thought that if I could just get the ship home safely
it would be enough, but there is something more in front of us now. We may be
called to war soon, but if we are ever to avoid that other world we saw, we’ll
have to become something more, you and I. We’ll have to become men of peace as
well.”

“I
understand, sir….At least I think I do.”

“You
are the business end of a platoon of highly trained men, Sergeant. But not
every blow is struck to do harm. This is the only way I can think to understand
it. Sometimes we fight to do some good, and we do what we must when it comes to
battle. But Fedorov once told me to think also of what we
should
do, and
this time I will keep his advice in my front shirt pocket, and heed it well.”

The
Captain clasped Troyak on the shoulder, even as he had done once before, only
this time things were different. This time the gesture was real. “Thank you,
Sergeant.”

“Sir.”
Troyak saluted, and returned to his men.

Karpov
headed forward to look for Fedorov, learning that he had gone to the sick bay,
so he made his way there. When he arrived he was surprised to see both Kapustin
and Volkov there, in some heated conversation with Doctor Zolkin.

“Welcome,
Captain,” the Doctor said with some exasperation. “Perhaps you can do some of
the shouting now, and I can have a rest.”

Zolkin
was at his desk, Fedorov sitting on a chair by the wall, and Kapustin was
seated opposite the Doctor with three manila folders in hand. Volkov was
standing behind him like a gray shadow, a smirk on his face.

“I
was asking the good Doctor here how he managed to come up with this little
charade,” said Kapustin, gesturing at the files.

“What
are you talking about, Inspector?” said Karpov, his eyes drawn to the folders.

“You
are going to tell me that you know nothing about it as well? What do I have
here now, three blind mice? You are the senior officers aboard this ship!”

“He
is telling me these records were fabricated,” said Zolkin, an aggrieved
expression on his face. “These are the files for the new junior officer
trainees that we lost in the accident aft.”

“
Denikin
,
Krasnov
and
Rykov
,” said Karpov.

“Exactly,”
said Zolkin. “You see, Mister Kapustin, he knows them by name without a second
thought.” He pointed at the Captain, claiming him as evidence on his side of
the argument. Karpov realized that Zolkin had been out of the loop in the
discussion he had with Volsky and Fedorov on this matter, and he was thinking
how to proceed.

“Well
the Captain knows them, does he?” said Kapustin slowly. “That’s good, because
no one in Moscow seems to know them, not their names, not their service records
either. So where did these come from?” He rotated slowly in his chair, like a
big threatening gun turret slowly training to engage a new target.

Karpov
knew the matter was not going to be resolved easily; not here, not now. They
had not come to any decision as to how it might be handled before their dinner
was interrupted by the call to return to duty at once. Now Kapustin and Volkov
were right back at it again, but the Captain decided what he had to do, so he
keyed his Moskit-II and fired.

“This
is a matter of state security,” he said calmly. “Neither you, nor Captain
Volkov here were privy to it. Yes, do not look so surprised, Inspector General.
You do not know everything, and should you inquire about this further you will
get the same reaction you received from Moscow when you went after the names on
that list.” Karpov was lying, of course, but he did so with such a convincing tone
that it sounded completely believable.

“You
are telling me… You mean to say these men are
not
dead?” Kapustin leapt
to the obvious conclusion.

“This
is outrageous,” said Volkov.

“Oh?”
Karpov turned at him, missiles ready. “You are a ranking officer in the Naval
Intelligence Division, and you are going to stand there and tell me that men
with names but no traceable life history behind them are not sometimes very
useful? Get a head on your shoulders!” He raised his voice now, then put his
hands on his hips, leaning forward and staring right at Kapustin.

“Do
you know what’s going on out there now?” He pointed a stiff arm towards the
unseen harbor, and the ocean beyond. “Do you have any idea what’s been
happening these last weeks and months? Where the world is headed? You think you
know everything and have it all written down there in your files? Has it ever
entered your thick head that this ship disappeared for a reason?” He pointed to
the deck. Kapustin’s eyes widened, a hint of uncertainty there. Volkov gave
Karpov a sallow look, a mix of shock and disbelief.