Torpedo!

CHAPTER 15

Anton Simonov was uncomfortable. Educated by the State as a mechanical engineer he had adapted well to KGB work. He often told his wife that working for the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnost or working as an engineer wasn’t that much different. Both jobs depended heavily on research and careful reasoning; both jobs gave one satisfaction if done well. The major drawback as he saw it was that once a man had attained some degree of rank he must, of necessity, engage in politics. Anton Simonov was not a politician.

He sat in a chair in front of Leonid Plotovsky’s desk in a sparsely furnished office in a wing of the Kremlin. He watched the old man peer at the pictures Simonov had brought to the office. Plotovsky pulled the earplug for the tape recorder out of the forest of stiff hairs that stuck out of his ear and turned off the recorder.

“Disgusting,” the old man said. “Revolting, absolutely revolting! To think that good men died in the Great War to save this nation from Hitler’s barbarians and now we breed scum like this!” He slammed his hand down on his desk console of buttons and his secretary opened the door to his office. He hastily began to turn the pictures over.

“Tea for the two of us,” he growled and she withdrew.

“I need something honest to wash the taste of this filth out of my mouth,” he said. “You must need something, you’ve seen these things more than once.”

“No more than I had to see them, Comrade,” Simonov said

“I can understand that,” Plotovsky said. He thanked his secretary for the two mugs of hot tea and waited until she had left the room and closed the door.

“There are no pictures of the Admiral’s face, Simonov.”

“No, sir. Gaining admittance to his apartment, planting cameras and microphones and tape recorders would have been a major operation, sir. He has two servants, bodyguards, really. They never leave his apartment together. One is always there.” He drew a long, slow breath.

“However, I think we have what could be called a considerable body of circumstantial evidence, Comrade. If I may be allowed, let me outline that for you.

“There are the pictures of Lubutkin waiting to be picked up by the Admiral in his official car and of the pickup. There are the pictures of the two of them leaving the car and walking to the door of the Admiral’s apartment building. The lighting in that street is excellent and the number of the building can be seen very clearly. In some of those pictures the Admiral can be seen patting Lubutkin’s rear end as they walk to the door of the building.

“Then there are the other pictures,” Simonov continued. “Those of Lubutkin and his roommate, who, incidentally, is a dissident and is not registered as living in Lubutkin’s apartment. Those pictures clearly establish that Lubutkin is a sexual pervert. He buggers his roommate, his roommate buggers him. The pictures and the tape recordings leave no doubt as to his character.

“Finally, if we have to, we can use the driver as a witness against the Admiral. He is unwilling to give witness, as I note in my report, but he can be forced to do so.”

“He’s also a pervert, according to your report,” Plotovsky growled. “But it would be evidence of a sort, the damned condemning the damned. I agree with you that we should not use him unless we have to do so. If we do he would have to be eliminated. Not that it would be any loss. Well, I can only say that you have done a remarkable job in a very short time, Anton Simonov. I won’t forget it.”

Simonov looked away from Plotovsky. To enjoy the favor of a politician was, in his estimation, almost as dangerous as being in disfavor. He turned his eyes back to the old man behind the desk.

“Thank you, Comrade. One more thing, to finish my train of thought: The pictures establish the fact that the Admiral and Lubutkin were, shall we say, companionable. The tape recordings, that section where Lubutkin’s roommate asks him to have the Admiral come to their apartment for an orgy, that establishes that the Admiral’s fondness for Lubutkin was based in one thing, sexual perversion.”

“It’s disgusting,” the old man said. He turned some of the pictures over and stared at them, his thin lips curling in revulsion.

“But not uncommon,” Simonov said. “I have done some research in this area, sir. I found that this sort of perversion was quite popular in ancient Greece, in old Rome and in the Mayan civilization. It was common in those nations to use young boys and young men as prostitutes.”

“As nations they all went under, didn’t they? Pulled down by their own excesses?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We could arrest Lubutkin, make him testify about his relations with the Admiral.” Plotovsky said. “We could promise him immunity and then dispose of him after the evidence had been given.”

“Unfortunately, we cannot,” Simonov said. He chose his words carefully. He was skirting the quicksand now and if he didn’t tread carefully he could be sucked down.

“I posted two people in an apartment we requisitioned that was next to Lubutkin’s apartment. We made a peephole so the men could observe, so they would know when to film, when to activate the tape recorders. Lubutkin came home last night after seeing the Admiral and the usual perversions between the two roommates went on. After they had finished we took the film out of the camera and one of the men took it to the laboratory to process it, that was our usual procedure.

“The other man on duty heard a quarrel between Lubutkin and his roommate. This was not unusual, they often quarreled. When my man looked through the peephole a while later he saw two naked bodies on the floor. He called the office and we sent a team at once. We found both men dead. They had stabbed each other with knives from their kitchen.” Simonov paused, hoping that his forehead only felt hot, that it was not in fact sweating.

“A lovers’ quarrel, if I may use that expression, Comrade.”

“I see,” the old man said. “I suppose it could happen that way. These people are not rational.” He looked at Simonov, his old eyes shrewd.

“How is it that Shevenko did not know what was going on under his nose? Do you suppose that he was sampling this slimy creature’s so-called pleasures? Igor used to have a reputation for being a great man for the ladies. Could a man change, prefer young men to women, as he ages? I don’t know about such things.”

“Oh, no!” The words burst out of Simonov’s lips. “Not Igor, sir! I don’t know if he even knew about Lubutkin’s perversions. I haven’t talked with him about this. To have done so would have been to violate your confidence, Comrade.”

“And you would never think of doing that,” Plotovsky said in his dry voice. He reached out and touched a button on his desk console. His secretary opened the door between their offices and looked in.

“Summon Igor Shevenko here at once,” Plotovsky said. He turned to Simonov. “I must ask you to wait in my secretary’s office while Shevenko is here. She will get you some fresh tea and some cakes.”

When Shevenko arrived at Plotovsky’s office the pictures were in a neat pile at one side of the desk, a piece of paper covering the top photograph. Shevenko entered the office and shook hands with the old Communist leader and sat down in the chair where Simonov had been sitting.

“I wanted to talk to you about this business of the Admiral,” Plotovosky began. “But before we get to that, did your aide, that nice young man, what’s his name, Lubutkin? Yes. Did he report for work this morning?”

“No sir, he did not. It is the first absence he has been guilty of since he began working for me two years ago.”

“Do you know why he didn’t come to work?”

“Yes, sir, I do. The State Medical Examiner called me not an hour ago. He is dead. The Medical Examiner told me that he and his roommate, I didn’t know he shared his apartment and my office is checking now with the Housing Administration to see if his roomer was registered, the Medical Examiner told me that he and his roomer apparently had a fight and killed each other. The Medical Examiner also confirmed what I had learned two days ago, that Lubutkin was a pervert. If you will permit me sir, it is distasteful, the Medical Examiner found semen in each of the dead men’s rectums.”

Plotovsky nodded his head. “You learned of his perversion two days ago?”

“Yes, sir. I asked Internal Security to begin a surveillance of Lubutkin yesterday. The surveillance was to have begun today. The paperwork, you know, Internal Security has to have everything down in writing and in triplicate, that took some time.” His heavy face took on a somber cast.

“I was perhaps derelict, Comrade, in not suspecting him earlier. But he was such an efficient aide. I considered myself lucky to have such an eager worker.”

“I can understand that,” Plotovsky said. “These days the young people don’t know the meaning of work and sacrifice. They live for pleasure.” He looked up, his hooded lizard-like eyes half hidden behind their drooping eyelids.

“Now you have to look for another eager young man, don’t you? Someone who is willing to work long hours and keep a tight mouth about what he knows of your work.”

Shevenko paused. The conversation was taking a turn he didn’t like. Apparently the old man had known of Lubutkin’s death. The question was, how much did he know? He looked at the floor and then up at Leonid Plotovsky.

“I won’t run the same risk this time. I have decided to promote Sophia Blovin to the position of my aide. I gain in two ways if I do that. I have her expertise on the American psychology close at hand and I am more familiar with feminine appetites than those of perverts.”

“Blovin,” the old man said. He made motions with his hands, indicating Sophia’s generous bosom endowment. “I remember her from the meeting we had. I think she’s a good choice.” He grinned slyly. “Now all you have to worry about is her falling into bed with some CIA agent or an Israeli agent. Maybe you had better take care of those appetites yourself, Igor. You used to have quite a name for that sort of thing at one time.”

“Comrade, you shock me,” Shevenko said with a small smile. “I’m a happily married man.”

“Hah!” Plotovsky said. “I knew your mother-in-law before you did. Like mother like daughter. If the daughter is like the mother you live with an Arctic ocean iceberg.”

“Did my honored friend seduce my mother-in-law?”

“Before she married your late father-in-law, who must have died of frustration,” Plotovsky said. He leaned back in his chair. “Your wife’s mother was a handsome woman, still is. I was younger then, full of piss. That was before the Great War and I didn’t seduce her, she seduced me. She told me she believed it her duty to give solace to a hero of the Soviet Union.” He shuddered at the memory. “A bad experience. I never went back. Enough of that, let’s get to the business at hand. Did you know the Admiral was servicing your late aide?”

“No, sir,” Shevenko said with a straight face. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” Plotovsky said. “What sort of information could your late aide have passed on to the Admiral?”

“Not much,” Shevenko said slowly. “I told him as little as possible. He didn’t know I went to Israel, as you did because I told you. I told him only enough so that he could do his job.”

“But he did have access to your office files,” the old man persisted. “He could have gone into the files at night, when you were not there.”

“I keep confidential material in a safe, sir. The safe is fixed to sound an alarm and spray the intruder with an indelible red dye if the safeguards are not first deactivated. He did not know about those safeguards.”

The old street fighter put his gnarled hands on his desk top and studied them. “Lubutkin’s death seemed to have happened most opportunely. Now that his lover is dead the Admiral has no chance to know what our strategy will be to oppose him unless there is some other leak in your organization. Is that possible?”

“I don’t think so, sir,” Shevenko said. He watched Plotovsky carefully. Sophia had told him earlier that Simonov had been summoned to see Plotovsky. Had Anton said anything? He thought not.

“I think that’s enough of that subject,” Plotovsky said suddenly. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Shevenko stood up and walked to the coat tree and put on his coat and muffler and settled a fur hat on his head. After Shevenko had left the office Plotovsky buzzed for his secretary.

“Ask Comrade Simonov to come back in, please.”

Simonov entered from the secretary’s office and stood before Plotovsky’s desk. “Your secretary arranged for me to hear what was said in your conversation with Comrade Shevenko,” he said in a low voice.

“And?”

“I cannot believe anything bad about Comrade Shevenko, sir. We have been friends since our school days. You know that. He promoted me to my present position, sir. I admire him and trust him.”

The old man nodded. “I know all that. I approved of your promotion. You do your work well and you have a tight mouth.” He nodded his head slowly on his stalklike neck. “I know, too, that he arranged for your wife’s mother to emigrate to Israel.” He raised his hand as Simonov started to speak.

“I arranged for her passport, Anton,” he said. “She is an old lady. She could do no harm. I have nothing against the Jews. I fought beside Jews in the Revolution. They were good men, good fighters. Our Communist theorists think they know everything. They don’t. But I do. Almost everything. That is one of the advantages of age, Simonov, what you don’t know you know how to find out. That’s all. My thanks for your good work.” He lowered his head and hawked and spat into the cuspidor that stood beside his chair.

He sat quietly for a few moments after Simonov had left and then he carefully turned over the pictures and sorted through them, looking at each picture with care.

“The naval defender of the Soviet Union!” he rasped. “What a farce!”

Vice Admiral Brannon’s Chief Yeoman came into the Admiral’s office and closed the door behind him.

“Permission to speak off the record, in confidence, sir?”

“Of course, Chief, what’s on your mind?”

“I had lunch today with a chief I served with when he was first class. I got him his hat. He told me, his exact words, sir, were, quote a certain four-striper is out to hang Mike Brannon’s ass unquote.”

“Nothing very new in that, Chief. That certain captain has been after my ass ever since I was assigned to this billet.”

“I know that, sir, but that captain hasn’t been using his big guns. Now he’s loading up for a broadside, sir.”

“What’s the caliber of his broadside guns, Chief?”

“Pretty heavy, sir. This chief told me that it’s a congressman. A powerful congressman. Powerful enough to already have run a check on your private and official life sir. His caliber is big enough so that he went into the FBI’s secret files to try and find something against you. That came up a blank so now, this chief tells me, they’re gonna get at you through Admiral McCarty of the Joint Chiefs. They figure he can find a way to push you into retirement, sir.”

“Interesting,” Mike Brannon said. “I owe you my thanks, Chief. Both of us know that carrying tales is never good duty.”

“I don’t consider this to be tale-carrying,” the Chief Yeoman said. “You shoot square with all hands, Admiral. This other chief and me, we hate to see someone playing dirty games to get at you, sir.”

“You’ve paid me a compliment, Chief,” Brannon said with a grin. “And I’ll accept it. And I thank you for the scuttlebutt.”

“Sir,” the Chief Yeoman said in a strained voice, “sir, it isn’t scuttlebutt! It’s the straight poop!”

“I’ll treat it as such,” Brannon said.