He was aware that Spruance was staring at him, and some of the others looked similarly abashed. Only Roosevelt and, curiously, the British envoy Lord Halifax did not react.
“We couldn’t sustain the team in-country for longer than six months before they had to withdraw. During their time in the Soviet Union, they picked up some indications that the Red Army somehow had gained access to twenty-first technology, but nothing conclusive could be found, and there was nothing that couldn’t be explained as a result of the Demidenko Project.”
Admiral King cut in on him. “So what? You bought that crock of shit, and pulled your guys out?”
Kolhammer was about to say that only a few moments ago King had been outraged by the fact of the team being placed in-country at all. Now he was raging because they’d been taken out.
But Roosevelt made the point redundant.
“I’m afraid I ordered Admiral Kolhammer to cease all of his activities within the borders of the USSR,” he said. “The situation with Stalin was tenuous, teetering on war really after we hit Demidenko, as you’ll all recall. It was my opinion that Admiral Kolhammer’s people were in danger of pouring gasoline on the fire. That was a mistake. We could have done with them now.”
Nobody said anything in reply. Kolhammer closed his eyes.
Here goes, he thought.
“They’re still there,” he said. “And still in contact.”
He thought the president might have him shot right then and there, so he hurried on with an explanation.
“Major Ivanov and Lieutenant Zamyatin stayed in the USSR, as they were entitled to, since their period of attachment to the Multinational Force had expired. They are operating as free agents now, doing what they can to liberate their country from tyranny.
“It is their right,” he insisted as Admiral King snorted volubly on screen. “Major Ivanov was a Special Forces officer back in our world. He was an expert in both combating and fomenting insurgencies. That’s exactly what he’s been doing, all over the Soviet Union, for eighteen months. Supporting insurgent forces.”
Kolhammer let that sink in. The only natural light in his ready room came from two portholes, through which he could see a few wisps of clouds in an otherwise blue sky. A couple of prop-driven planes flew past, a good two or three thousand meters away, while he paused in his delivery. Then he continued.
“There was always going to be a reaction against the central government, when Stalin no longer had the Nazis to unite everyone he’d been tormenting before the war,” he explained. “Ivanov has simply been helping that process along. Frankly, I thought it was futile, but it’s not my country. At any rate, President Roosevelt ordered me to cease all contact and control, and I did so. However, Major Ivanov has continued to file regular reports. They have been logged by Fleetnet and archived, but no correspondence was entered into.
“We couldn’t very well stop him sending the information, after all.”
Roosevelt muttered, “I still don’t understand why you didn’t get on with Hoover, Admiral. You’re cut from the same cloth.”
Kolhammer tactfully ignored the aside.
“Anyway, Ivanov has been in contact again recently. Fleetnet logged a data burst from him just a few hours ago. He is in the Kamchatka region, and is investigating what the Russians call a sharashka. It’s effectively a prison, but a gilded one. Not a million miles removed from the Manhattan Project-in principle, if not execution. Sharashki are tightly closed R-and-D facilities, some of them as big as cities. Life for the scientists and techies who are effectively imprisoned there is very cushy by Soviet standards. They get comfortable quarters, good food, some minor luxuries. But if they miss a deadline or screw something up, there’s a fair chance the NKVD will kill them and send their families to a real gulag.”
The president looked more than a little uncomfortable with Kolhammer’s uncompromising account of life under Uncle Joe. The other military men, used to dealing in extremes, seemed much less discomfited.
“Major Ivanov has provided us with the locations of three sharashki other than the Kamchatka site, and extensive notes on what he was able to find out about each. He hasn’t sent much on Kamchatka yet, but I expect that will change soon. The other sites he has logged are a missile range at Novolazarevskaya, a large jet program at Baikonur, and another aviation program near Baikonur that seems to be mainly concerned with helicopter production.”
Kolhammer paused to take a breath. He had no idea how anyone would react to his next statement.
“I would strongly suggest that all of these facilities should be targeted for immediate deep-strike missions, if open conflict with the Soviets ensues. The missile base at Novolazarevskaya in particular. If it transpires that they’ve had two years’ access to the Vanguard, they will have a very advanced missile program by now. It’s quite possible that Stalin will be able to call on ICBM assets-rockets that could reach well into the continental United States. And if he has made any progress on his atomic program…well, you don’t need me to tell you what a nightmare that would be.”
It was evident, even in the little pop-up window, that a few of his colleagues were as furious as they had been in the days after the Transition, when they learned that Kolhammer’s ships had destroyed the Pacific Fleet “by accident.” He could see that King’s face had turned a dangerous shade of red. Marshall was shaking his head, his lips pressed thinly together.
“Major Ivanov has taken some preliminary soil, air, and water samples from around the Kamchatka site, and they have tested positive for low-level radioactive contamination.”
He heard Spruance swear softly beside him.
“In addition, Ivanov has sent back some basic imagery of the Sharashka, and there are a number of signs that it may be part of the atomic program.”
He tapped a string of commands into his keyboard. On the screens at the other end of the link, he and Spruance disappeared. They were replaced by still shots of massive concrete cooling towers. Allowing them a few moments to examine the image, Kolhammer then returned to the video feed from the ready room.
“Major Ivanov intends to secure high-value personnel from within the facility, to question them and confirm its nature.”
“How?” Henry Stimson asked.
“He’s gonna grab them up and interrogate them as quickly as possible.”
“Torture them, you mean,” King said.
“No, Admiral. Ivanov has access to a small supply of T-Five. It’s a drug we use in hostile debriefing of enemy combatants. It’s a lot more effective than kicking them in the kidneys.”
“Admiral Kolhammer, what happens if Ivanov gets caught?” Roosevelt asked.
“He won’t allow that to happen, sir.”
“Oh really.”
“No. He won’t. I’m afraid that given the nature of his mission, there is very little chance that Ivanov and his companions will escape with their lives. He judges it a sacrifice worth making. And I can assure you, he won’t leave traces behind for the Soviets to throw back in your face.”
“Admiral, you seem almost eager for this conflict with the Russians,” Roosevelt said.
“I have no enthusiasm for it at all, Mr. President. It will be an unholy bloodletting. But in my opinion, it is inevitable. The Soviets will not accept their future-the future they found in our records. We’ll fight it out in the next few weeks or the next few years, but we will have to fight them. And it’s almost certain that Stalin will want that fight to take place now, when he’s at his strongest, and before we reach the stage of mutually assured destruction with atomic weapons.”
Kolhammer waited for someone-Admiral King, he guessed-to flay him again for having royally fucked up their world. He’d built up a thick mass of scar tissue over the past two years of getting flogged on that same point. To his surprise nobody did anything of the sort.