Tide Of Fortune (Kirov Series Book 20) by John Schettler

Author:John Schettler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: The Writing Shop Press
Published: 2015-08-29T23:00:00+00:00

Part VII

Aftermath

“All was deadly still. There was no call and no echo of a song. Sorrow seemed to be in the air. 'Victory after all I suppose!' said Bilbo, feeling his aching head. 'Well it seems a very gloomy business.' ”

—J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

Chapter 19

That night Nagumo changed his heading, taking the Blue Dragon due south at 32 Knots for some time before signaling Carrier Division 5 off Wake Island to rendezvous. Some inner sense warned him of grave danger, the presence of that unseen wolf that had been stalking his fold. Akagi followed as best she could, her speed off to no more than 18 knots, and with orders now to proceed to the big Japanese naval base at Truk, some 1100 miles to the south. The Home Islands were still 2000 miles away, and so Nagumo looked for the best friendly anchorage he could find for that precious ship.

As for Kirov, Karpov lingered north, deciding to wait for the stroke of midnight for news from his intelligence unit at Vladivostok. The Japanese destroyer flotilla, and all the garrison troops there, had not made a move. By this time, after recalling his helicopters to refuel, the Japanese had slipped away. Akagi was already 300 nautical miles to the south, and the faster carriers were linking up and turning for home, now over 420 miles away.

“We won’t catch them now,” said Fedorov. “Those carriers are very fast. You might get south and find Akagi.”

Karpov considered that, then decided to wait. He had received the news from Tyrenkov via a secret code message sent to Nikolin. The words there struck him: Plan 7. It was a special protocol he had set in place in the event of another attack by Volkov on Ilanskiy. Now it appeared that exactly that was underway, which set his mind to wondering what Volkov could possibly be up to. He was suddenly anxious, pacing on the bridge as he waited for more news, but no word came.

“Something amiss?” Fedorov was at his side, and Karpov gave him a strange look, then simply waved him to the plot room, shutting the door when they had entered.

“Trouble at home,” he said at last. “A place you will be well familiar with—Ilanskiy.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The kind I think you instigated once, Fedorov. Don’t think I wasn’t aware of your little Special Operation. No doubt you set Troyak loose with his Marines, and it was quite obvious what your intention was.”

“I won’t argue the matter,” said Fedorov. “Yes, it was my intention to prevent you, or anyone else, from ever using that back stairway again. I wish I had never stopped there that night, because I’m responsible for this entire mess—everything—Sergei Kirov, Orenburg, all of it.”

Even as he said that he recalled the long conversation he had with Director Kamenski and Admiral Volsky. The Director would not see the blame laid at Fedorov’s feet, and he said as much:

“Remember,” Kamenski had told him. “It was Orlov who wrote that journal note that you discovered.

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