Cameron Poe: Red Agenda

For amusement, he would torment the large, dawdling holiday cruise ships that sloshed about near his house. He would skip back and forth in front of the sluggish vessels, infuriating their captains and crew, then glide away laughing.

A vacationer on one of these boats happened to be an engineering professor from the University of Moscow. It took the professor only a couple of days to track Andri down and ask him if he could examine his boats. With much pride, Andri showed off his rigs. He went into detail about the design and dimensions that made them perform so well. The man listened with great interest and enthusiasm.

It wasn’t long after the professor’s departure that others began to arrive with more questions. It was a continuous routine, except with each new visitor the persons became less interested in his boats and more interested in Andri. He didn’t mind. He took everyone that came out on his crafts and galloped across the waves. If he had a reason to be on the water, Andri would go.

Finally, the people stopped coming, and the parade was ended with a letter addressed to him from the University of Moscow. A space was being held, and almost all his expenses would be paid if he chose to attend. His father was no fool. Andri had no choice; he went.

Moscow was not what he expected. Andri had heard that it was a colorless place, but he did not anticipate the darkness of the city to be so pronounced. His adviser was waiting for him when he stepped off the train. From then on, his life was under the supervision of the Soviet military.

His class load was structured so he could concentrate on physics, computer science, electronics, and engineering. He was kept busy and never given the chance to form any genuine friendships. The company of women, for which he paid out of the allowance the state provided, and other perks like vodka were accessible whenever he asked for them. His social skills were stunted, but he excelled in all other areas.

At the end of two years, Andri’s adviser informed him that he would travel to Leningrad (Saint Petersburg) and later to Primorski to work at a small shipyard that specialized in experimental designs. To Andri, this news was delightful, and he was eager to leave the depressing surroundings of Moscow.

Primorski in the summer reminded him of home, and this good feeling enhanced his work. He concentrated on hull structure and examined the efficiency of the way ships slipped through the water. His work received quick recognition, and after eight months, he was taken to another shipyard that constructed the MIER deep-dive submersibles. One trip down and Andri was hooked into what would become his life’s passion. The deep divers became his obsession. Within a year, he had theoretical designs that allowed the subs to travel to depths of at least ten thousand feet, with the ability to stay down eight hours longer. This work immediately attracted the interest of the Red Fleet, and he was transferred to the most coveted arena in the Soviet military—nuclear submarines. Andri jumped at the chance, and at the ripe age of twenty-four, he was given the commission of an officer in the Soviet Navy.

He was put on a team of naval and civilian engineers that launched the Soviet’s most sophisticated nuclear submarines. The team was composed of the brightest people Andri had ever encountered. The lead physicist was Mikhail Nemokov. Nemokov was a man who overshadowed everyone with his genius. The team functioned in various departments, each member doing its job. Andri was assigned to hull structure and integrity.

Andri’s contribution largely went unnoticed because his supervisor took the credit for his work. Contact with Mikhail was rare. He was not allowed to speak with the man unless he was asked a direct question. That didn’t bother Andri. He knew he’d get his chance to lead, but he didn’t expect it to happen upon the heels of Mikhail’s disappearance. One day he was there, the next, Nemokov was gone.

The shop was shut down for several days as all the engineers were questioned thoroughly about their relationship with Nemokov. The KGB wouldn’t say what had happened to Mikhail or where he had gone. They would only state that he wouldn’t be returning, and it was time to restructure the departments in the shipyard. This gave Andri the opportunity to move up in rank and become the head of his section. He began to flourish, and under his guidance, sub design for the Soviet Union moved forward—and so did his career.

On a grand scale, Andri now built subs that ran deeper, longer, and more silent. The work was engrossing, and he began to dream of the day that he not only engineered the ships, but captained them too. He worked as hard at being a naval officer as he did an engineer and won the respect of captains in the Red Fleet. There was no holding him back.

The ambition was a blessing. He would serve aboard submarines for three-month tours and then head back to the engineering team with his evaluations and make immediate improvements upon subs that were being assembled in the shipyard.

His combination of knowledge and practical experience rocketed the Soviet sub fleet to become the largest in the world. Again the government rewarded him with his choice of assignments, and so Andri began his opus. He began plans for a vessel that would be virtually unmatched for its time. A vessel of which he intended to be both the designer and the captain.

With less than a year to go before its commission, the unthinkable happened in Andri’s life—the Soviet Union collapsed. Republics split away, and funding for the submarine programs evaporated under the new Russia. With an unstable economy and a crumbling government, Andri was told that the navy had run out of money. It could no longer afford to fund his work and asked if he could teach at the university. He resigned instead.

Feeling bitter and betrayed, he moved to the town of Sevastopol on the Crimean peninsula. There he joined his cousin’s business that gave sightseeing tours to Western vacationers by ferry. It was the end of his incredible career.

Dan returned the file to the envelope with an accompanying sigh. Though the life was laid out in front of him in black and white, he could only imagine what Andri must have been feeling when he resigned his commission. He was even more perplexed by Andri’s decision to work for his cousin. That didn’t make sense, considering his personality.

He smirked when he remembered Levi’s analogy about Soviet military men being bastards of their own system. It certainly could apply here.

Still, why Mohsen and Andri Stemovich were going to meet was left unclear. Kuwait clearly had no need of a submarine. They didn’t even possess the support systems needed to maintain such ships . With the US Navy making the Persian Gulf its second home, submarines just didn’t seem to fit in the Kuwait equation. Maybe it was science? Kuwait was oil driven, not science driven. From every angle, he tried to look at the situation and came up with nothing. Could Stemovich want something from Kuwait? Who contacted whom first?

At 4:58 p.m., Dan felt it was time for a cold beer. He put away the file, grabbed his Hugo Boss trench coat and briefcase, and exited. Sharon had departed. If the day was slow, she skipped out early to beat the traffic. Too bad , he thought. I could use the company .

Once outside, his mind again wandered back to the Kuwaiti situation. It bothered him. It was only a gut feeling, but it bothered him. Bluebird is going to have to tag along, I guess. That would be that. He tried to comfort himself by supposing that the small operation would be a false alarm, and nothing would come of it. Then again, if that were true, why didn’t Bluebird ignore the scrap of paper? Sometimes I wish some things need not be known.