John Schettler - 9 Days Falling, Volume I

Silence…Dark, awful silence.

Volsky waited, but he knew what had happened. He strained to hear more, the phone receiver pressed tightly to his ear. The Lieutenant he had sent to open Fedorov’s storage bin knew he was waiting on the line, and when the man did not return to the phone Volsky knew the worst.

Someone else was there , he thought. Someone was waiting there! Did they know what we were doing or was this merely happenstance? No, it had to be planned. There might be a night watch at the building at that late hour, just after midnight, but he could think of no reason they would dare interfere with his Lieutenant. So it had to be someone else, but who? Who was curious about his ship and crew? He had his answer in a heartbeat, and he knew that the Inspector General and his meddlesome intelligence officer had to be behind this. Yes. That was the only scenario that made sense. It was Kapustin and his lap dog Captain Volkov. They had been rudely rebuffed in their effort to unravel the mystery of Kirov’s disappearance, and they were not happy about it. He had little doubt that they still had men watching the ship in those last hours before the fleet sailed, and they had probably shadowed Fedorov’s operation at the Primorskiy Engineering Center as well.

He slowly put the receiver back in its cradle, and reached for another phone, thumbing a secure line, his pulse quickening.

“Security,” came the voice.

“Admiral Leonid Volsky here. Please send a detachment of five Marines to my office at once.”

“Yes, sir… Is there a problem, Admiral?”

“Five Marines, please, on the double.”

“At once, sir.”

The Admiral realized that if his adversaries were willing to do what he had just heard on the phone line, then his own life could be in jeopardy. He summoned Marines that night, first for his own security, sending orders down to the staff that no one was to be admitted to the executive level of the building without his expressed approval and that anything unusual, any request for entrance by Naval Intelligence or military personnel, was to be reported to him immediately. He knew that battle lines were being drawn somewhere. Kapustin would not be able to challenge him alone. He would need the full weight of the Naval Intelligence Division and Internal Affairs to push anything. As a Fleet Admiral Volsky had tremendous power, controlling a wide range of military assets, and he intended to use them to defend himself and the mission they had planned, come what may.

When the Marines arrived he told the Sergeant in charge to assemble a twenty man detachment and secure the Naval Logistics building in Vladivostok. Guards were to be posted, particularly on the floor with Fedorov’s storage bin. No one was to be admitted… absolutely no one. A phone call would be made nightly to the Sergeant at Arms there and a man would be quietly instructed by Volsky to check bin number 317. There would be no one lurking in the shadows from that day forward, not as long as he remained in command here.

The following morning they discovered the Lieutenant he had sent to retrieve Fedorov’s message, if one was there. The man was found drugged and still groggy outside the “Kulmart” company department store a few blocks down from the old Logistics Building. He remembered nothing, and could provide no clue as to who had assailed him, how he got there, or what he was even supposed to be doing that night. A careful search of his person turned up no documents, though Volsky did not expect to find anything. It was obvious that the man had been searched before he was left there by the assailants and that anything he may have had was taken.

So if there was a note from Fedorov, thought Volsky, then they know about it. Kapustin…He must have learned much more than they believed. That man was very thorough in the discharge of his duties, but what would he make of Fedorov’s note? It would seem an insignificant bit of nonsense and be dismissed, or so the Admiral believed. The operation now underway in the Caspian was another matter. If Kapustin had men watching the Primorskiy Engineering Center, then they would have seen the device they removed from the reactor test bed facility. They would have followed the column of trucks to the airport with some curiosity and great interest. The presence of a strong security team from Kirov would have aroused more than one suspicion, not to mention the radiation safe container the trucks were carrying to the big transport plane.

Discrete inquiries would have turned up the destination—Uytash airfield at Kaspiysk on the west coast of the Caspian Sea. That would have raised more than a few eyebrows. If Naval Intelligence was involved, they would have assets in that region as well. Volsky had to assume that they would soon have men closely watching his detachment and reporting. Once Dobrynin and his Marines embarked for the offshore anchorage of the Anatoly Alexandrov they would be more secure. His adversaries would soon discover that his good friend Admiral Kamilov in command of the Caspian Flotilla was involved and they would double their watch. Wartime security measures would be a good cloak, but if Naval Intelligence got pushy they had a lot of clout. He urged Kamilov to beef up security and delay any attempt to interfere with the operation as long as possible.

“I will do whatever I can, Leonid,” said Kamilov. “But if Moscow intervenes with a direct order…”

“I understand,” said Volsky, hanging up the phone with deep misgivings. Yes, Moscow…what would they know about all of this, and when would they know it? Those questions weighed heavily on his mind now. For that matter, what did Kapustin know? The Admiral did not have long to wait. The following day he received a call from building security stating that the Inspector General was requesting permission to see him in his office. So the game was up. Volsky gave permission for Kapustin to come up to the executive level, alone, and he also made sure he had adequate security posted at every access point along the way.

A few minutes later his Chief of Staff buzzed him to say his visitor had arrived and the Admiral seated himself at his desk, a revolver in the drawer close at hand should he need one. He did not think that Kapustin would consider doing anything extreme, but given the circumstances he was taking no chances.

“Good day, Inspector,” said Volsky when the man finally entered. Kapustin nodded, with a wan smile and slowly removed his fedora. “Please be seated.” Volsky made as if everything was routine. “I assume this has something to do with your report on Kirov .”

“That would be a good guess, Admiral,” said Kapustin. He seemed tired, a bit frazzled, as though he had not had much sleep.

“May I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” Kapustin pinched the bridge of his nose, then got right to the point. “Admiral Volsky, I know you to be a very responsible officer, much admired, greatly respected.”

“You are too kind, Inspector.”

“Yes, well those pleasantries aside I thought I would deliver your mail this morning.” Kapustin reached slowly into his coat pocket, and the Admiral tensed up, his hand drifting to the edge of the drawer where his revolver was hidden. But Kapustin simply produced a plain white envelope, leaning forward and placing it on the desk. Volsky’s heart leapt as he eyed it, knowing exactly what it must be. He reached and took it up, seeing it had been opened, and noting how old and faded the seal was. He reached inside, slowly removing a small folded letter and opened it, immediately recognizing Fedorov’s handwriting.

“Admiral Volsky… If you are reading this then know that we have arrived safely at our destination, and will now proceed with our mission to rescue Orlov at Kizlyar. Should circumstances permit it, look for us along the Caspian coast on or after October 15, 1942. May God be with you all. — Captain Anton Fedorov.” Another brief notation was added at the end: “Bukin failed to arrive. We hope he is safe with you.”