Kirov III-Pacific Storm (Kirov Series) (2 page)

-
Russian Naval Hymn

Chapter
1

A car
drove quickly up the lane towards a
stately estate, its buildings clustered one against another in an odd mingling
of architectural styles. Bletchley Park, or ‘Station X’ as it was called, was
one of ten special operations facilities set up by MI6, where ‘Captain Ridley’s
Shooting Party’ was supposed to be enjoying afternoons on the adjoining sixty
acre estate, with shotguns and hounds to hunt down quail. Yet its real purpose
was derived from the feverish activity of the Government Code and Cypher
School, England’s code breakers, a collection of brilliant and dedicated men
and women who would generate the vital intelligence information needed to prosecute
the war.

Here there were walls of colored code
wheels, strange devices like the Enigma machines and odd looking equipment fed
by long coiled paper tape, dimpled with a series of small black dots of varying
sizes. The minds of Bletchley Park were already in the first stages of
digitizing the analog world into forms their nascent computing machines could
digest and ruminate upon. A year later the estate would see the installation of
the first “Colossus” machine, a rudimentary computer housing all of 1500 vacuum
tubes to power its mechanical brain.

The car stopped, its door opening
quickly as Admiral Tovey stepped out, a thick parcel under his right arm. He
did not approach the styled mansions up the main walkway, but veered left
towards a green sided extension—Hut 4, the heart of naval intelligence. A year
ago the men who worked there had been reveling in their first breakthrough, the
deciphering of the German Enigma code. Then came the unaccountable appearance
of a strange ship in the Norwegian Sea, and it set the whole community back on
its heels.

Tovey walked past the row of white
trimmed windows and entered through a plain unsigned door. He was immediately
greeted by a Marine guard, who saluted crisply and led him down the narrow hall
to the office of Alan Turing, who had been reading a volume of Byron’s poetry
as he waited for the Admiral.

“Good day, Doctor,” said Tovey as he
walked briskly in, his hand extended. Turing set his poetry down and rose to
greet him, his dark eyes alight with a smile.

“Call me ‘Professor,’ Admiral.
Everyone else does here, though I haven’t been given a formal chair as yet. The
word doctor always seemed a tad sterile for me.”

“Very good, Professor. I’ve brought
you a little something more for your file boxes,” said Tovey.

“Ah,” said Turing, “The photography!”

“Indeed. Two reels of film here with
photos, and a full report. I’ve collected the logs of all ships involved, so
you’ll have a good time sorting it all through before it gets filed away with
everything else on this
Geronimo
business.”

“Very good, sir,” said Turing, his
curiosity immediately aroused. “I wonder, Admiral. Might I persuade you to
allow me to fly out to St. Helena one of these days and have a look for
myself?”

Tovey raised an eyebrow, his face
suddenly serious, and seated himself, his eye falling on the open volume of
Byron’s poetry. He scanned the lines, reading inwardly:

“On the sea the boldest steer but
where their ports invite;
But there are wanderers o’er Eternity
Whose bark drives on and on,
and
anchor’d
ne’er shall be.”

With a heavy sigh he looked at Turing,
and all the unanswered questions in his mind took a seat there with him,
waiting to have their say. “I’m afraid I have some rather interesting news for
you, Professor,” he said quietly. “And I think it’s high time that you and I
have a very frank chat.”

“News, sir?” Turing received most
information that might be considered news well before anyone else, so it was
unusual, and even interesting to hear something he might not know.

“This ship—
Geronimo
—well it’s
vanished again.”

“Vanished?” The word got Turing’s
attention immediately, and he leaned forward, waiting to hear more.

“Indeed, and just as the escort
reached St. Helena.”

“Are you saying it sunk, sir?”

“No, Professor, I am saying it simply
vanished—sailed into a bank of fog and disappeared. Oh, we put divers down and
scoured the sea floor. There was not a trace. We had two cruisers and three
search planes look in every direction, and there was no sign of this ship
whatsoever. There was no visible or audible explosion, so we have ruled out
accident or deliberate scuttling as well. By God, some magician pulled this
rabbit out of his hat, and then just waved his hand and made it disappear
again! It sounds impossible, but what else are we to conclude? The ship is
gone, or at least that is what we thought….Until
this
came in today.”

Tovey handed him another plain Manila
envelope, much smaller than the first, a raised eyebrow betraying his obvious
excitement. “Sorry to tell you that any photographic evidence related to this
Geronimo
business has been re-routed to Admiralty first. Admiral Pound was none too
happy with the decision I made to parley with the Admiral of this rogue ship,
and even less amused when it pulled this incredible disappearing act. I daresay
the Prime Minister was rather teed off as well. Neither man can accept the ship
has vanished without a trace. That said, I managed to keep my head on my
shoulders, though if Admiralty knew what I have for you in this second envelope
it the gallows might be waiting for me soon.”

“I see,” said Turing, his own
excitement rising as he opened the envelope and slipped out five badly exposed
photos, clearly not proper gun camera shots, or even military formatted photos.
“You must tell me about this man—the Admiral you parlayed with.”

“In due course, Turing. First have a
look at those photos. No one else in the Kingdom has seen them outside of
Admiralty Headquarters. They were taken by a pair of eagle eyed coastwatchers on
the Melville Island group north of Darwin three days ago.” Tovey crossed his
arms, watching Turing closely. He noted how he immediately took up a magnifying
glass and stared intently at the images, moving from one to another, then back
again. When he looked at Tovey it was evident that he was deeply concerned.

“It’s
Geronimo
,” he said
quietly. “There’s no question about it. The silhouette is unmistakable. And
those other ships are Japanese cruisers.”

“Indeed,” said Tovey. “Those photos
were taken August 24th. Now Professor, might you tell me how this ship, which
was a thousand yards off the Island of St. Helena on the morning of August
23rd, could suddenly
vanish
, and then reappear off Melville Island, a
distance of 7,800 nautical miles away in a period of twenty-four hours? That is
ten days sailing time at a high speed of thirty knots, and even if this ship
could fly it would be hard pressed to cover that distance in the time
allotted.”

Now it was Turing’s turn to raise
eyebrows, both of them. He studied the photos, his eyes moving from the images
to Tovey and back again. Then he took a deep breath, and blinked, shutting his
eyes tightly for a moment. When he opened them there was a quiet determination
in them, and a light of fire.

“Well, Admiral,” he began. “As you so
ably point out, no ship would cover that distance in a single day. It’s quite
impossible. Then again, no ship that I know of is like to up and vanish without
a trace as you claim this one did. Oh, there have been hundreds of lost ships,
sir, accidents, storms at sea, but as you describe it,
Geronimo
disappeared right under the noses of some very experienced naval personnel sent
to St. Helena to keep watch on her. Yes, I heard something unusual had happened
through channels…some rather dark channels, and I’ve been trying to come to
grips with it for these last three days. Admiralty may sit on all the
photography they want, but things have a way of getting round to the people who
can do anything useful with them, as your presence here proves quite plainly.”

“Yes, well I went out on a limb to
bring you this material, Turing, because I believe exactly that. Now what do
you make of it all?”

Turing looked at the photos in his
hand again. “Unless I am completely mistaken as to my interpretation of these
photos, then we are faced with yet another profound mystery here, sir.”

“
Could
you be mistaken,
Professor?”

Turing smiled. “Not today…”

“Of course. Then how
does
a
ship move that distance in a single day? After I spoke with you at the
Admiralty I gave considerable thought to what you were telling me about these
wonder weapons used by this ship. Yes, they were at least graspable. We’ve
known about rocketry and such for centuries. Yet both you and I know that the
rockets we saw used in the North Atlantic and the Med were clearly a cut above
anything we have in development now.”

“Clearly.”

“Yes…well the rockets I can live with,
Professor. But a ship that can move about
willy
nilly
and travel such distances is something else
entirely—an impossibility I am not able to grasp in any wise.”

“I’ll agree with you on that, sir,”
said Turing. “No ship could move that distance in space in a single day. No
ship could vanish from the North Atlantic and appear in the Med a year later,
only to vanish yet again. These things are all impossibilities, but if these
photos are indeed
Geronimo
then it moved there some other way, sir, and
there is only one explanation I can now offer you, strange as it may sound.”

“I’ve become more willing to entertain
the impossible since all this business began, professor. Don’t keep me in
suspense.”

“Well sir, the ship would have to move
in
time
. It’s the only thing that might account for this sudden
disappearance and reappearance half a world away.” He stared at Tovey, the two
men locking eyes for some time until it was clear to them both that they had
hold of the same elephant now.

“You’ve held this view earlier, but
said nothing about it.”

“I had my suspicions, sir,” said
Turing, “but it didn’t seem as though I might have any luck conveying an idea
like this to Admiral Pound.”

“You were trying to put me on to it,
weren’t you—in that last conversation we had after the meeting at the
Admiralty.”

“I was, sir. Without coming right out
with it. You see they pay us to reach for certainty here, not fanciful
speculation. They listen to us because they want facts, not imagination. I had
very grave doubts about this ship from the moment I first set eyes on it. We’ve
gone round and round on it, eliminating it from one navy after another. The
conclusion I was coming to was not likely to be well received, and I must say,
Admiral Tovey, that I am already shunned in many circles as it is. Somewhat of
a dreamer, they say of me. Somewhat of a peculiar odd fool is perhaps what they
really mean. Well they can say what they will. When they can crack the Enigma
code on their own let them play me for a fool. Our own Sherlock Holmes would
give me some comfort when he said that once you have eliminated every other
possible option, what you are left with must be the truth, as impossible as it
may seem. Things move in two ways, Admiral. They move in
space
and they
move in
time
. Now, while we’re accustomed to moving there and back again
in space, travel in time has been stubbornly in one direction—forward—until
this ship appeared in the Norwegian Sea a year ago. Not a German ship, as we
now know. Not an Italian or French ship, and now it’s half a world away
fighting with the Japanese!”

“Moving in time? Well I have to say
that the notion did cross my mind—one for the likes of Jules Verne or H. G.
Wells, eh? Yet how can I believe this, Turing? It’s astounding!”

“Can you explain it any other way,
sir?”

At this Tovey frowned, clearly
perplexed. “They hit us at Darwin,” he said, steering a new compass heading for
the moment and hoping to find safer waters.

“Yes, sir. I did hear that as well.”

“Then let me share a little more,
Professor,” Tovey smiled, hoping to give the young man the comfort of
confederacy. “You see, I had the opportunity to have a little chat with the
Admiral commanding this phantom ship, and it was most enlightening. First off,
your suspicions expressed earlier were correct. The man was Russian. His crew
was Russian, and I am led to believe that his ship was Russian built as well.”

“Another impossibility,” said Turing,
“at least at present. The existing Soviet Union could not build anything like
that ship.”

“Quite so, but no
more confounding than what you have just suggested, Professor. A ship moving in
time? Funny thing is this…The man disavowed any affiliation with Stalin and the
Soviet Union. In fact he was quite pointed about it—claimed Stalin would not
have the slightest inkling that his ship even existed. Yet he knew of
Churchill’s meeting, at that very moment, in the Kremlin. That was most
revealing. Very few people knew of that arrangement, even in the highest
circles here, yet he spoke about it as if… well as if it were—”