Hammer of God

Chapter 29

Karpov looked again at his chess set, smiling. “Petrov’s defense,” he said. “It was played out by a namesake of mine against a young man named Magnus Carlsen-quite a chess prodigy. But never mind the game itself. I was merely passing time with it to rest my mind. It is what occurred to me while I was playing it through that matters now. It was nothing about the game itself, just the chance association of names.”

“I don’t quite follow you, Admiral.”

“Of course not… In that game, a man named Anatoly Karpov, no relation, was playing out the well known defense devised by a former chess master, Alexander Petrov. They call it the Russian Defense now. Well, those names suddenly struck a hard note in my mind-Petrov, Karpov. You see Petrov was also the name of a well known early revolutionary, and the reason I bother with this at all will soon be obvious to you. This man, Alexander Petrov, the revolutionary, not the chess master, seems to have his fate line tangled with my own. He was attempting to infiltrate the Czar’s secret police.”

“The Okhrana? That would be very dangerous.”

“Indeed! Well he very nearly succeeded. In fact, he was being actively recruited by high level officers in the Okhrana. They had arrested Petrov and had him in prison, when the man thought to ingratiate himself with the authorities, saying he wished to join and support the activities of the secret police. So he was approached by a man named Sergei, and slowly recruited. The Okhrana wanted to use him as an agent to uncover more activists in the revolution, and the inverse was also true. The revolution wanted to use Petrov to get a look at the inside workings of the Okhrana. A most unfortunate incident occurred, however, and it all came apart, the whole scheme. Petrov’s handler was in Saint Petersburg, and learning his protege was there, he made a call, saying he would soon be there to meet with him. No one knows why, but Petrov used that brief interval of time to plant a bomb under the table where they were to meet, then he excused himself, and boom, the bomb went off, killing the handler, but also ending Petrov’s ploy at infiltrating any further into the Okhrana. That was apparently no matter to him, for he seemed to have accomplished what he set out to do. You see, the man he killed was no mere handler, but really a highly placed officer in the Okhrana. His name was colonel Sergei Karpov, and he was my Great Grandfather…”

Tyrenkov was very surprised to hear this, but remained outwardly calm. “When did this happen?” he asked.

“A good question. I have found different sources with different dates, but they all agree that it was in the month of December, in this very year, 1909. So we are going to see about it. Because at this very moment that revolutionary is still stewing in Saratov prison, trying to finagle his way out to take the path that will eventually lead him to that meeting with my Great Grandfather. Only this time things will be different.”

“I believe they will, sir,” said Tyrenkov, and now he allowed himself a smile. Something told him that a good many other things were going to be different in the days ahead.

It was a simple matter to gain entrance to the prison at Saratov. Once the massive hulk of Tunguska appeared in the sky, the authorities in the city were quite shaken. The airship hovered low over the site, bristling with guns, and soon the cabled cargo baskets were used to lower squads of Tyrenkov’s security personnel. Karpov had given him his marching orders, and Tyrenkov did not disappoint. The men landed right inside the prison, and he sent several platoons of black-clad special service troops, well armed with sub-machineguns, to find the warden. Even as Orlov had found his target in the Prison of Baku, and as Sergei Kirov had found Stalin, the history was again to turn on another visit to a dank prison cell by knowing men from another time. Tyrenkov found the man in question, and without so much as a brief announcement, he concluded the matter.

“Alexander Petrov?” he said.

Petrov looked at him through bleary eyes, thinking that this could only be one of two things. Either it was yet another interrogation, and most likely a beating ordered by the local police, or perhaps, he hoped, this might be the authorities from Saint Petersburg he had appealed to, offering his services to the Okhrana in exchange for freedom.

It was neither. It was simply his most unexpected appointment with death.

“You are hereby condemned for the conspiracy and assassination of Colonel Sergie Karpov.”

Petrov heard the words, but could not understand what was happening. “What?” he blurted out, his instinct for survival suddenly pulsing with the adrenaline in his chest. “What do you mean? I have killed no one!”

“Correct,” said Tyrenkov, “for the moment. But you will kill someone if left to your devices. But not this time.” He reached into his service jacket, drew out a pistol, aimed, and fired. The sharp report of the weapon in the confined space was deafening, but Tyrenkov hardly blinked. He took a long look at Petrov satisfied that the bullet hole he had put in his head was fatal, and then turned, his boots hard on the cold stone floor of the prison hallway.

Ten minutes later his men were ascending to the ship in the sub-cloud car, and history groaned as it turned over in its sleep. For Sergei Karpov had been slated to become head of the Okhrana in Saint Petersburg before Petrov’s bomb prevented that. Now he would become head of that nefarious organization, and like his grandson, he had a very long list of things he planned to do, and some of them were going to matter a great deal in the years ahead.

While Tyrenkov and his men were away on their mission of death, Vladimir Karpov had passed the time listening to the memoirs of Alexander Petrov as fetched from the library material he had stored on his service jacket computer. A shiver went down his spine when he began to hear names in the narrative that were all too familiar. The man who had first approached Petrov was called “Sergei,” the name of both his Great Grandfather as well as a certain other figure that had risen to prominence in the revolution-Kirov. One day Petrov was invited to Sergei’s house, along with other members of the nascent underground revolution. The moment he arrived a bomb went off with a roaring explosion, throwing Petrov to the ground. His legs had both been injured, but he still had the presence of mind to drag himself towards the door, managing to eventually reach the street outside, dazed and wounded.

The police arrived, pushing into a crowd that had gathered around Petrov, and added to his misery by kicking him with their boots. It was just another revolutionary, or so they believed, and they took Petrov off to the police station. There the local chief ordered the man taken to the hospital to see to his bleeding legs. In one of those strange twists of history, the doctor who operated on him was named Fedorov! Later, the Okhrana actually did recruit Petrov, and provided him with a false passport under the name Rodenko! So there were the names of men who had served on the bridge crew of the battlecruiser Kirov — all strangely associated with this Petrov figure, a man who was planning to kill his own Great Grandfather! The dark implications of that did not go unappreciated by Karpov. If Petrov had done his deed just a few months earlier, he would have snuffed out the life line that now sustained him, as Colonel Sergei Karpov would have died before he had conceived his son.

The eerie echo of those names in the narrative unnerved him as he listened-Fedorov, working to sustain the life and mobility of Petrov, Rodenko, lending him his identity so that he might move unnoticed in the murky seas of the early revolution…

I was that close to annihilation, thought Karpov. But why did Petrov want my Great Grandfather dead? Was it his own doing, or was he put up to it by someone else? Was it merely revenge for the attack that injured him? Were these other men secretly involved, Fedorov? Rodenko? And who was this “Sergei” that had tried to kill Petrov himself that day? Was it really his Great Grandfather? Why would he do this if he was really seeking to turn Petrov as an agent, as all the other accounts had it in the history? Was it someone else named Sergei? Who? Why?

He sighed, switching off the computer in his service jacket that had been reading him the file, a cold, clammy feeling on the back of his neck. Something about this incident was entirely too personal now. It was not like the grand strategy he had been plotting, aimed at striking decisive blows to the history. No. It was darker, more devious, more sinister. People were moving through the waters of history, like submarines lurking beneath the thermals of time. People were out there trying to kill him!

The sound of a knock on the door shook him from his fearful reverie, and he sat up in his chair, eyeing the door with suspicion.

“Who is it?”

“Tyrenkov, sir. Here to report.”

“Come.”

The door opened, and Tyrenkov strode in, saluting as he came. He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out his pistol, handing it to Karpov. The barrel was still warm.

“The operation was successful,” said Tyrenkov flatly. “Petrov’s defense did not work this time. He is dead.”

Karpov took a long, deep breath. The assassin was dead, and now his Great Grandfather would live, or so he believed. His life line seemed more secure-at least for the moment. He breathed deeply, satisfied, and appreciating Tyrenkov’s efficiency and calm yet again.

“That will conclude our business here,” he said. “We will depart for Ilanskiy immediately.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll go to the bridge and inform the Air Commandant.”

“Don’t bother,” said Karpov. “I have already informed him by telephone. We’ll be underway shortly. Why don’t you sit down for a moment. As to Petrov, you were certain he expired?”

“I put a bullet right through his head, sir,” said Tyrenkov. “If he did survive I don’t think his brain would have been of any further use to him. Why did he wish to kill your Great Grandfather?”

“An interesting question,” said Karpov. “The thought did occur to me that he was put up to it by others.”

“Who sir?”

“Don’t think I reached this position without making enemies, Tyrenkov. I can think of several people who might want me dead now. This attack on my Great Grandfather always bothered me as a young man. My father told me about it, and I once thought that I might not even be alive if this man Petrov had done his dirty work a few months sooner, before my grandfather was conceived. It is a very sly way of completely eliminating someone from the line of fate. You just kill his ancestors! Who might wish to do this, I wondered? Ivan Volkov came to mind immediately.”

“Volkov?” said Tyrenkov. “But how would he have any influence over Petrov, a man of this day and age?”

“I thought the same thing,” Karpov replied. “If Volkov was behind this plot, then he would have had to have some means of traveling to this year in time to recruit Petrov for this task. I can think of no way that would be possible-except for one.”

“Ilansky,” said Tyrenkov quietly.

“Precisely. You are very sharp, Tyrenkov. Yes. If Volkov were to gain control of Ilanskiy, and learn of that back stairway, then he might send someone back and do something like this. He could not come himself, as he is already here-even as we speak, but as the impudent young officer who was sent to inspect my ship. He’s still probably trying to figure out what happened to him, and drowning his sorrows with some good vodka. But that Volkov would know nothing of my rise to power in Siberia, or of our enmity. Only the Volkov of 1941 would have that knowledge, and also the knowledge of Ilanskiy if he had mind enough to associate his fate with that place-and I think he did. Otherwise, why did he violate the treaty we signed at Omsk, and make that stupid attempt to seize Ilanskiy? You see? Volkov already tried to get Ilanskiy under his control once…”

Tyrenkov was silent for a time, thinking. Then he looked up and asked another question. “You think Volkov may have made a subsequent attempt-and one that succeeded this time?”

It was a dark thought, and still sent a shiver down Karpov’s spine. “That is a possibility,” he said. “But it would mean he was able to drive all the way to Ilanskiy, and I don’t like the sound of that. It would mean we were defeated on the eastern front by the Grey Legion.”

“You mean beaten by Volkov’s forces? At some future time?”

“A bit unnerving to consider that, isn’t it?” said Karpov. “Yet that is one scenario that would have to occur if Volkov were behind the plot to kill my Great Grandfather. It gave me fits for a time, until I realized that for Volkov to attempt this, I would have to still be alive, and a viable threat to him in that future time.”

“Why wouldn’t he just send someone back and shoot one of your ancestors, as I just shot Petrov?”

“Who knows? Perhaps he prefers a subtle touch, and one that does not directly implicate him… Yet all of this is mere speculation. I have come to conclude that Volkov was not the culprit. If someone did put Petrov up to this attack, then it was another man.”

“Who?” Tyrenkov was simple and direct, another reason Karpov admired him.

“That is what you and I will set our minds on now,” said Karpov. “If Petrov was a tool, then the man who sought to use him would have to have the means of traveling to this time to do so-this much we have already determined in considering the Volkov question. So that creates a very short list of names, Tyrenkov. First off, the man must have the knowledge that time travel is possible, and that is known to very few. Secondly, he must have the means to travel in time, and that is another major obstacle. Thirdly, and this is the part that is certainly bothersome, he must have a motive for wanting me dead. Yes. This list is a very short one. As far as I know now, there are only a handful of men who might fulfill all these requirements.”

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.”