Hammer of God (Kirov Series Book 14) (30 page)

Who are they, sir? Give me the
names and I will begin making arrangements to eliminate them. There are still
five more bullets in that revolver.”

Karpov smiled. “That may take
some doing,” he said. “But if you want to know, here is the list.”

Chapter 30

“First
off,” said Karpov,
“there is another man named Sergei who might want me dead, and his last name is
Kirov, the head of the Soviet state and Bolshevik party in 1941.”

“Sergei Kirov?” This took
Tyrenkov by surprise. “But didn’t you just conclude an armistice with him?”

“You mean like the accord I
signed with Volkov at Omsk? Things change, Tyrenkov. Yes, I made the decision
to support Kirov, but in doing so I had to reveal my true identity to him. Now
he knows I am not from his time, and he also knows about Ilanskiy, giving him
the means of sending someone back to the pre-revolutionary era where we find
ourselves now.”

“Then you also told him about
Ilanskiy?”

“No, and that was quite a shock
to me when I learned about it. It seems Sergei Kirov discovered that back
stairway all on his own—with a little help from one of the other officers
aboard my old ship, a man named Fedorov.”

“The man you suspected as the
doctor who cared for Petrov?”

“Yes, though I have not proven
that connection yet. Now listen carefully, Tyrenkov. Sergie Kirov was never
supposed to rise to the position he holds in your time—in 1941. No. He,
himself, was the victim of an assassination plot, in 1934. This gets to be a
long and convoluted tale, but suffice it to say that Soviet Russia, and the Bolsheviks,
were led by another man in the history I know, a man named Josef Stalin. Kirov
learned of Stalin’s rise to power, and took steps to change that.”

Now Karpov explained what he had
learned, of Fedorov, and the chance meeting at Ilanskiy with the young Sergei
Kirov, and of Kirov’s subsequent journeys up those stairs to glimpse the future
Russia that Stalin built. Then he revealed that it was Kirov who killed Stalin
as a young man, just as Tyrenkov had eliminated Petrov, while he languished in
prison.

“Amazing,” said Tyrenkov. “To
think that the entire history of our time, of my time, was shaped by these
events. It’s very chilling. So now you think the man who attempted to recruit
Petrov, the man name Sergei, was actually Sergei Kirov? But why would he want
you dead?”

“That should be obvious. Because
I represent the strongest possible challenge to his power—indeed, to his very
existence. He knows that I have learned the secret of Ilanskiy, and that I
control that site in 1941. In fact, there were more than two airships involved
in that incident at Ilanskiy when Volkov launched his raid.”

“The third airship…” Tyrenkov
paused. “My intelligence apparatus eventually determined it was a Soviet ship,
the
Narva
, dispatched from Murmansk.”

“Yes,” said Karpov with obvious
anger in his voice, “and it was carrying a team of elite Naval Marines, the men
actually responsible for the demolition of that back stairway.”

“Were they sent there by Kirov?”

“No my friend,” said Karpov. “Not
the man, but the ship. They were the Naval Marine contingent aboard my vessel,
a ship named
Kirov
. So it was obviously a plot hatched by the senior
officers of that ship.”

“The same officers who opposed
you earlier?”

“Correct.”

“What was their motive?”

“Obvious again—to prevent me from
discovering or ever using that back stairway. To prevent me from ever being
able to get here, Tyrenkov, to a time where I can now make truly decisive
changes to the history. Don’t you see? Even as we just settled the Petrov
matter regarding my Great Grandfather, I have more irons in the fire here. If
Sergei Kirov wanted me dead, it is because he knew I could come here and hunt
him down before he ever enacts his own plan to seize power in Russia. From here
I can decide everyone’s fate—Stalin, Kirov, even the officers on that ship of
mine who dared to oppose me. I can deal with them all!”

“Then they are also on your list
of possible suspects,” said Tyrenkov, “these other officers.”

“A few might want me dead. They
have already taken bold and aggressive action against me to prevent me from
achieving my vision—betrayed me, after I fought and saved that ship more times
than I can count. That is how I came to Siberia! I was betrayed, and left
behind.” He said nothing of the real truth, of how he came to get that scar on
his cheek, of that headlong fall into the sea that was as much fate, or
happenstance, as it was any betrayal by the officers and crew of
Kirov
.

“Perhaps they have learned who
the Karpov in Siberia really is—Vladimir Karpov. If they cannot act to prevent
my plans, then perhaps they would attempt to eliminate me altogether!”

“I see…” Tyrenkov thought about
that. “But they are not here now, in this time. And how could they travel here?”

“Remember my old ship,” said Karpov
quickly. “They meet all three conditions I specified earlier, the knowledge of
time travel, the means to do so, and a motive to eliminate me. So yes. They are
on my list—Admiral Volsky, and Captain Anton Fedorov. I haven’t decided about
Rodenko yet, but the fact that his name came up in this Petrov business has me
thinking about him as well. He was quite truculent when acting as my
Starpom
aboard the ship. He may also be involved in this conspiracy.” Karpov held up a
finger, but Tyrenkov said nothing.

“So you see,” said Karpov. “We
have quite a few things to do. We will be very busy in the days ahead,
Tyrenkov.”

“I understand sir, but…”

“But what?”

“Well I was wondering about the
war, the situation on the eastern front near Omsk, and our plans for the offensive.
Now that we are gone—that
you
are gone—what will happen?”

“Don’t worry about that,” said
Karpov. “First off, suppose we returned to 1941 right now, and arrive there an
hour after we left? You see? We would not even be missed. But that doesn’t matter.
Things we do here may rewrite all that history. What if we were to find Ivan
Volkov here, and give him the same treatment we just gave Petrov? Think about
that, Tyrenkov. Think long and hard. Who would we be at war with on the eastern
front? There would be no Orenburg Federation when we returned—at least not
under Volkov.”

“Interesting,” said Tyrenkov,
though he did not speak his full mind on that subject.

“The same goes for Sergei Kirov.
What if I find him here and return him to the dust bin of history where he
belongs? Then who ends up ruling the Soviet Union?”

“This man you spoke of… Stalin?”

“Well I would certainly not leave
that little matter unattended. Think again. Who rules if I eliminate Kirov?”

Tyrenkov allowed himself an
appropriate smile. “Why,
you,
Admiral. That is evident. You would easily
outmaneuver any opposition in this time.”

“Correct! And you will be my
chief of state. I have big plans for you. Together we can accomplish a very
great deal.”

“And the war? The Germans? What
about that?”

“From here all that history is in
play—the rise of the Nazi party. The life of Adolf Hitler himself—I hold all
these things in the palm of my hand, and all I have to do is close my fist to
crush anything I desire!”

The light in Karpov’s eyes could start
a fire.

* * *

Tyrenkov did think long and hard
about what Karpov had told him, and his logarithmic intelligence soon began to
come to some very alarming conclusions. If all this were true, and he would
accept as much for a starting variable in his thinking, then what if Karpov did
eliminate Ivan Volkov now?

Just as Karpov said, it would
mean there would be no Orenburg Federation if they ever did return to 1941. But
how would they manage that? The Admiral had not given him any clear reason for
their arrival here in 1909, though that storm obviously had something to do
with their situation. He did not really know what had happened, but that did
not matter. They were here, in 1909. He had seen that with his very own eyes
when they reached Saratov. Instead of the long lines of entrenched positions
around the city, there was no sign of any military activity. The city was much
smaller, and the people clueless as to who he was. They were awed by the appearance
of
Tunguska
, and not because it was an anachronism in a world that had
largely abandoned airship technology. No. They had never seen a thing like
Tunguska
before, and that had made a strong impression on Tyrenkov’s mind.

The Admiral did not offer any
clear explanation. In fact, he even stated that his own movement in time seemed
to be accidental. If that were so, then the importance of Ilanskiy was
redoubled. If there was a hole in the history there, then it was perhaps the only
means Karpov had of returning to the future, to their own day of 1941 or even
years beyond. That was why he was so eager to get there—this grandfather
business aside.

But what would happen if Karpov
used that stairway? Would he go forward in time again, or backward? He did use
it once before, returning strangely shaken, his uniform soiled, and not by the
dust and cobwebs of that stairwell. Where did he go? Did he come here, to the
past, or to some unseen future? He needed to know, needed more information, and
so he asked his next question.

“Certainly all things are
possible here,” he said. “Yes, you could become the head of the Soviet State.
Of that I have no doubt. Does that mean you intend to stay here, and live out
the remainder of your life from this year forward?”

Karpov’s eyes shifted, as if he
had not yet thought that through himself. “That has not been decided,” he said.
“We must first determine how to locate Volkov and the others, and that could
take some time. He arrived here in 1908, but that was a year ago. He could be
anywhere now, and nothing is known of him until after the October Revolution in
1917. So it may take a lot of sleuthing to find him.”

“Perhaps your Great Grandfather
might help,” Tyrenkov suggested. “After all, he is a member of the Okhrana, and
has their network as a resource. We have no intelligence net set up here at the
moment, but he does, and he owes you his life.”

Karpov raised an eyebrow at that.
“Interesting,” he said. “Yet I hardly think he would believe me if I came to
him and told him who I was. That would not be possible. I would have to remain
anonymous.”

“Yet you might ingratiate him by
revealing Petrov’s plan to kill him, and telling him how we foiled that
operation.”

“Possibly…” The thought of
finding and speaking with his own Great Grandfather, a man he had never known,
was suddenly compelling. Tyrenkov was correct. How would they find Volkov
without an extensive intelligence network? It could take them years of
fruitless searching. But the Okhrana already had that network in place, men in
virtually every district and city in Russia. He considered that, and the other
question his intelligence chief had asked him. Did he intend to stay here? Did
he really want to hunt down Volkov and Kirov, and assume the role of head of
the new Soviet State?

First things first, thought
Karpov. I need to know if I can find a way back to 1941. It is clear to me that
storm sent us here—time sent me here—and for some reason. It happened just like
that incident with the Demon volcano, a massive, highly energetic natural event
that opened a breach in time. But why do I always seem to fall through to these
years before the revolution? Why did Fedorov appear here when he went down
those stairs where he first met Sergei Kirov?

Now he remembered how Kirov had
described the inn at Ilanskiy to him…
Imagine a simple boarding inn, lost on
some forgotten stretch of railway. Imagine the people boarding there all come
from different places, which is not that unusual. Yet now throw in a most
remarkable twist—say they all come from different pages in the history,
different eras in time. The bottom floor houses guests who lived before the
revolution, the middle floor is reserved for travelers from this day… and the
upper floor? Suppose men from tomorrow board there.

Yet the upper floor is gone,
thought Karpov. I saw that with my own eyes. The war had begun. It was underway
the moment I reached the top of those stairs. I saw the naval munitions depots
at Kansk taking a direct hit from a nuclear weapon. So if I go up those stairs
now, from this time, where will they take me? Every time we shifted on the
ship, we seemed to get stuck in the 1940s, but Fedorov clearly demonstrated
that Rod-25 could go farther back in time, to these years. That’s how they came
after me, using
Kazan
.

Now he began to feel very
uncomfortable, the remnant of that mouse of a man he once was, longing for his
safe little mouse hole. He had risked much, and taken bold action since he
gnawed through that intercom cable outside the sick bay aboard
Kirov
,
sealing Volsky and Doctor Zolkin inside. He had played with the big cats, and
taken a scratch or two for his effort. Yet he was alive, a real player in this
world now, and in a position to do some very significant things. Yet even as he
thought this, he could still feel that thrum of anxiety in his chest. How would
he get back to 1941? Could he do so? Where would another journey up those
stairs take him this time?

That thought struck him like a
thunderclap.
The stairway! It’s gone! It isn’t there in 1941! Fedorov
destroyed it, damn his rotten little soul!
It was blown to pieces, and
though I have the plans, and have men working the site in early 1941, he did
not know when that job would be complete, or even if the stairway would still
work once it was rebuilt. What if the alignment had to be absolutely perfect?
What if it was a matter of inches, centimeters, and that stairway no longer
angled into oblivion as it did before?

His heart beat faster, realizing
that his mouse hole, his escape route, might no longer be there. In 1941 he had
already had three years to acclimate himself, gain his footing, recover from
the treachery that had nearly been his undoing. In 1941 he was in a very
comfortable spot, and one he was very familiar with. He was a rising star,
scheming to further his position and eliminate potential rivals as he always
did. Yet above him were men like Ivan Volkov and Sergei Kirov, already
achieving their power and status by working hard for it from these
pre-revolutionary years. In 1941 it had been much easier to cuddle up to Kolchak
and work his way into power. From here it would be a long thirty years to take
that last step up from where he was, and supplant Volkov and Kirov, and he
would have to live through the tumult and travail of WWI and the revolution—the
long civil war. It would take years to tame the wild beast Russia would become
after the fall of the Romanovs. From 1941 he might still reach the top, and
without having to spend thirty years of his life to do so. Kirov and Volkov
were old men in 1941, and from there he was still young…