Beyond the Sea--An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  “Your point in this matter is?”

  “That the phase shift engine is the sole property of the United States government, and we wish it returned. It makes no matter that the system is installed inside Russian state property or not. Our science along with your own can find the nuclear fingerprint inside the phase shift engine on board Simbirsk. Now, we can make this an issue in the world court, or you can admit to your theft right here and now.”

  Jack smelled that old familiar odor of rat once more. He didn’t know what it was Niles was playing at, but he did suspect that Compton was running one of the biggest bluffs of his life.

  “Admit? I am not in one of your courts of law, Doctor. I do say this and always have. Your department is very resourceful at recovery—items of history and items of information. But as I said, this is all hearsay and speculation. The Northstar Committee has always been a rumor, one that has been shot down by most conspiracy theorists within our borders. I will say this: every premier, every president since the days of the old Soviet Union, has investigated these claims, and they have always fallen far short of that rumor. Oh, even now they still suspect, but even if proven, there is nothing that can be done about it. We control the Russian military, and the funny thing is, Doctor, they have no idea.”

  Niles turned away from the Russian and looked directly at Second Captain Dishlakov. “Sir, on behalf of the president of the United States, we offer you asylum in our country.”

  Dishlakov stood and nodded. He looked from Compton to Jack and then to Vassick.

  “I thank you for the offer,” he said in Russian, which was translated by Virginia to Niles and the others. “But I am not a coward. My people must learn the truth about these arrogant and dangerous men. I cannot accept your gracious offer.” He sat back down, and he again looked Jack’s way, and he could only nod in understanding. He would do the same thing if it were him.

  “Again, you are wasting your time. You will not win this battle. You have”—Vassick looked at his gold wristwatch—“exactly thirty minutes to comply with our request, or we can settle things militarily. This point is up to you.”

  “As you said, your power is derived from secrecy of your hidden group. That you would control all aspects of your government through your committee members. Well, it may not be that secret any longer. Your little speech has been viewed by a colleague of yours who is now an interested party to your committee’s deceit since 1941.”

  At this point, Xavier Morales rolled his old-fashioned wheelchair over to the monitor and then flipped a switch, and a blank screen came up. Then Xavier typed information into the laptop he had installed on the arm of his chair. He turned in his wheelchair and nodded at Niles.

  “Second Captain Dishlakov, your refusal to assist these men and your refusal to seek asylum will not go unnoticed. I assume you will still be alive in the coming months and years as your government figures out what it is they have to do about this rogue element within the sanctity of your national borders. The US government is bowing out of this situation by order of our president.”

  “That is most wise,” Vassick said as his intense gaze fell on the Russian captain.

  Jack and the others saw the faintest hint of a smile curl at the director’s mouth.

  “Mr. President, are you there?” Niles said as he turned to the monitor.

  “So, now you think we will bow to your president, Doctor? What makes you think this?” Vassick said with the smile still on his face. “We know that he is powerless to pursue any remedy for my group of patriots.”

  “Who said anything about our president?”

  “Uh-oh,” Carl said loud enough to be heard. Jack only smiled as the bluff came full circle in a confused mess that Compton would have to explain to simple soldiers like he and Carl.

  The color drained from the face of Dr. Vassick as the screen came to full-color life.

  The face of Russian president Vladimir Putin was there live for all to see. He was sitting next to a man they all assumed was an English-speaking interpreter. But Jack figured rightly that he hadn’t needed one for what it was he had just heard confessed to. The Russian ruler said something in a calm voice, and then the man sitting next to him spoke.

  “I am indeed here, Doctor. Your president was very forthright in insisting I join this meeting.”

  “Did you understand all that was discussed here, sir?” Compton continued, with his one good eye never leaving his counterpart.

  Vassick lost that arrogant smile of his as he realized for the first time in his committee’s history they had admitted to their treason in full view of Russian authority.

  “Yes, I believe we have serious internal discussions we will have to have on state security matters. I have made the appropriate arrangements with your navy, and our response, I understand, has arrived aboard your carrier.” The interpreter became silent as Putin, a man despised in the Western circles of government, stared into the screen.

  Jack realized that a plan had been formulated between himself and Lord James Durnsford, the bow-tied little Brit who knew more than anyone in the world as far as secret government agencies went. Collins smiled and shook his head as he reminded himself never to allow the best bluffer in the world in the stubby form of one Niles Compton into their weekly poker game. He looked at the seated Russian agent Salkukoff and winked at him. The man turned away angrily, as his plans had been illuminated by the most powerful spotlight in the world.

  There was the sound of the hatchway being opened, and the same marine stepped aside to allow men in blue battle camouflage to enter. Jack and Carl knew them to be Russian marines. What was amazing was the fact that the US Marine security detail allowed them to keep their sidearms aboard one of the most protected ships in the entire world—Nimitz.

  The ten very large Russian naval marines marched straight to the seated Russians. With Vladimir Putin still watching with an intense gaze, the marines took them into custody.

  Vassick smiled as he was stood up and handcuffed. He remained silent as he was escorted out.

  They saw Salkukoff stand up as if he were the next to be taken, but the marines merely walked past him and out of the hangar deck. It was Second Captain Dishlakov who stopped in front of Salkukoff, and then it was his turn to smile as he simply walked out.

  All eyes went to the large screen of the monitor as the interpreter spoke. “My president wishes to express his gratitude for your assistance in this matter and wishes you to pass the same along to your president. This issue will be taken up with trusted members of our politburo, and appropriate measures will be taken. As for the apparatus in your possession, according to official Soviet records, the Simbirsk was lost with all hands in the summer of 1945. So, it is our opinion that this ship is not Russian state property, and our government has authorized its destruction if that is the will of your salvage team. We expect a proper outcome to this matter and thus will discuss it no further as long as the appropriate measures are taken immediately. Good day, gentlemen.”

  The monitor again went blank as the stoic face of the Russian president vanished.

  Jack and the others stood and shook hands with Niles, Xavier, and Virginia.

  “You are going to have to explain all of this when we get home,” Jack said as he smiled and faced the Group.

  Niles smiled and looked deeply into Jack’s eyes. “That’s need to know, Colonel, need to know.”

  * * *

  The Russian-made helicopter left the flight deck of the Nimitz and sped toward the waiting Russian battle fleet miles away. Vassick was angry as he sat with his fellows and then gestured angrily toward the marines watching them. Second Captain Dishlakov’s eyes widened when Vassick held out his cuffed hands and the marine removed not only his but the also the restraints of the other members of his group. Vassick angrily gestured toward a man in civilian dress who had not been aboard the carrier. The black-suited man handed over a laptop.

  “Second Captain Dishlakov, you may want to witness this.”<
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  Two Russian marines harshly stood the Russian officer and pushed him to the opposite side of the helicopter. Dishlakov watched as a connection was made. The face of Vladimir Putin was there and smiling.

  “Are you hearing me, Gregor?” Vassick said into the microphone on the laptop.

  “Yes, and I guess you’re lucky we were, my old friend. They had me in a television interview for three hours with a silly woman reporter from Germany. I almost didn’t make it in time.”

  “Well, you did good, old friend. You go and finish your interview now.”

  “Okay, you old Bolshevik, see you when you get home to Siberia.”

  The laptop went blank.

  Vassick smiled at Second Captain Dishlakov as he handed the laptop back to his man.

  “Yes, the dawning of knowledge is sometimes rather startling, is it not?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You and many billions of others around the globe, Second Captain. Let’s just say that most people do not know that our great President Putin ever had a brother, much less a twin brother. A twin that our illustrious former KGB operative tried to hide from the rest of the world for over forty-eight years. I would say that he came in handy after we discovered the hiding place our president had buried him under.”

  “What of the real president?” Dishlakov asked, not believing what it was he was hearing.

  “Oh, Vladimir had a chemically induced heart attack seven years ago. Very sad. But he was a stupid man who thought he had the brainpower to take on those far more intelligent than himself. People you may have even met on your little adventure. This is the reason why our old Russian history of acting first without thinking has come to an end.”

  Two men, also dressed in black suits, sat beside Dishlakov, one on each side.

  “I am to be murdered now?” he asked bravely.

  “Murdered?” Vassick chuckled. “My friend, you will become one of the true messengers of our new system of government. Very valuable indeed. No, you will make it home alive.”

  “No matter what you do to me, my crew performed bravely, and they do not deserve to die.”

  “My dear man, do you think us entirely without empathy or pride in what your crew and the brave Captain Kreshenko executed in the most hostile of worlds? No, your crew will go down in Russian history as the very men who began our new revolution.”

  “And Captain Kreshenko’s legacy is what?”

  “The same, my boy. He will be remembered with honor, as you all will. Yes, we have our disagreements with certain military leaders—Kreshenko was one of them.” Vassick took a deep breath. “You see, young man, there will be certain … citizens and professional military associates who cannot accompany the new Russia to where it is we are going.”

  Before Second Captain Dishlakov knew what was happening, the man to his right plunged the syringe into the thigh of Dishlakov. As his eyes fluttered shut, his last vision was of the portly man smiling at him.

  Vassick took a deep breath and then leaned back against the aluminum body of the helicopter.

  “It’s a shame we had to lose Salkukoff; he was a very respected member of our society. He will be missed.” He again sighed. “But then we all have to make sacrifices for what is to come. Let us go home; we have many things to discuss and plan.”

  * * *

  An hour later, the Simbirsk was cast free of her towline from Ticonderoga, and the USS Houston moved away from the Nimitz battle group to a safe distance. Jack, Carl, Charlie Ellenshaw, Jason Ryan, and Will Mendenhall, along with Niles Compton, Virginia Pollock, and Xavier Morales, who was looking around the massive carrier with a child’s wonderment, gathered at the fantail of Nimitz watching the seas to the north. They were soon joined by Henri Farbeaux, who stood next to them.

  “Get it done?” Jack asked.

  Henri looked at his wristwatch and nodded. “In exactly one minute, my obligation to you and your president will be fulfilled, Colonel.” He looked at Niles, and the director nodded in agreement.

  Their attention was drawn to the distant conning tower of the Houston as she paced the battle group three miles away. Unable to submerge with the damage she had sustained, she was still able to fulfill this one last task.

  Henri tapped his watch as he looked up. “It’s time.”

  In the distance, they saw Simbirsk as she bobbed in the calm seas. The Russian relic sat upon the sea proudly as she awaited her fate.

  LOS ANGELES–CLASS ATTACK SUBMARINE USS HOUSTON

  On the conning tower of the Houston, Captain Thorne looked through his binoculars and then leaned over and spoke into the intercom.

  “Weapons, are you ready?”

  “Aye, Skipper,” came the reply.

  “Fire one!”

  “Tube one, weapons release.”

  “Fire two!”

  “Tube two fired electrically. All weaps running hot, straight, and normal.”

  “Conn, run the live feed to all compartments. This is for Shiloh and Peter the Great. We all deserve this.”

  “Aye.”

  Captain Thorne resumed his watch as his torpedoes sped to their intended target.

  * * *

  Three miles away on the battle bridge of the Russian battle cruiser once thought lost to the world, Colonel Salkukoff waited. His handcuffed hands were secured to the wheel of the navigation station, so he had a good view of his fate as the American Mark 48 torpedoes reached the hull. He cursed Henri Farbeaux for his last words to him.

  “Remember the Ukraine, for this is the reason why I am sending you straight to hell.”

  * * *

  The members of the Event Group watched as the Mark 48s had done what the phase shift and Nazi submarines could not do. The explosions occurred separately. One weapon detonated below her keel and the other directly into the hull below the engine spaces. The resulting fireball could be seen by every ship in the battle group. They watched until the battle cruiser sank in two sections for the three-mile fall to her final resting place.

  Jack slapped Henri Farbeaux on the back, as his orders had indeed been fulfilled. It was Virginia of all people who spoke up.

  “Now, can I ask where that gruff bastard of mine is?”

  “Right behind you,” Carl said with the largest smile Virginia or the others had ever seen the captain have.

  Stepping onto the covered fantail came Charlie Ellenshaw and Jenks. The master chief was holding two small girls, and the others clung to his pant leg as if it were a maypole.

  Virginia lost her own smile very fast.

  EPILOGUE

  CHANGING OF THE GUARD

  FISHKILL, MONTANA

  The gathering of the departmental heads and other members of the Event Group, who had never been in one place off complex before, was something that Niles Compton had wanted to do ever since the conclusion of the Overlord operation. The Group needed to be reset, and this was the best way to accomplish that.

  The expansive ranch, owned by Compton, was a property that had belonged to his family for generations and placed on display the beauty of Montana. The activity outside the large ranch house was festive as men and women doted over the guests of honor—the six children rescued from Compton’s Reef.

  The gathering was far more than just a send-off of the children to one of the most expensive private schools in the country, where they would be assimilated into modern society; it was a get-together to celebrate each other and the recent achievements of the Group. To not take for granted the friendships they had developed and to take time to remember those no longer with them but who would forever be on the active rolls of Department 5656.

  The large white tent housed the food and drink, and the orphaned children were wide-eyed at the activity. It had been Master Chief Jenks, the brutish bully of a man, who had fallen hard for the children. He was sad to be seeing them leave to start their new lives under the protection of the Group, but it was a necessary one, as explained to him by an eye-rolling Virginia Pollock.
He and Virginia were spending the last few hours they had with the kids and looked to be having the time of their lives. The master chief had been transformed by his new charges and would be forever following their progress while they were away.

  “Who would have thought, huh?”

  Niles Compton turned and saw Alice Hamilton as she strolled up to the small hill that overlooked the expansive backyard of the ranch.

  “Thought?” he asked as he sipped his drink.

  “That something as small and breakable as children could melt that old, mean bastard’s heart.”

  “The master chief, yes, it is an amazing transformation.” Niles took a deep breath and then watched the activity below him. “But you do learn as you get older that the small things are what change you.”

  She saw the sad look come into Niles’s countenance.

  “Okay, what’s wrong?” Alice said as she stepped closer to the director.

  “It’s been five days since we returned from the North Atlantic, and there hasn’t been one iota of information coming out of Russia. Nothing.”

  “What does the president say?”

  “That’s what is so frustrating. The Russians are acting as if the Simbirsk incident never happened. No word from Putin on the disposition of his missing crews of three ships.” He turned and faced Alice. “The president says it’s nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to getting information out of that particular government, but I’m not convinced it’s business as usual with our former communist friends.”

  Alice patted him on the arm. “Go with your instincts. If you think it’s not kosher, prove it. You’re good at that.”

  Niles smiled and then faced the party, and the Group down below once more. “I think I’ll let it lie for now. The Group needs time to get their heads on straight again. We have to rebuild what it was that was taken from us. I think I’ll let the president and the politicians wrestle with this one.”