"Special forces?"
"Sure. When we did some snooping off Sweden, the subs carried armored tracked amphibious vehicles. They could crawl along the sea bottom like big bugs. It was a sweet ship, the India. Fast and very maneuverable."
"The public literature said two were built?"
"That's correct. We had one in the northern fleet and another in the southern. Sometimes one would join the other for special operations."
"What happened to them?"
"We lost the Cold War and they were withdrawn from service. They were scheduled for demolition."
"So they were scrapped?"
The admiral grinned. "Yes, of course."
Petrov replied with a hike of an eyebrow.
"On paper, anyhow," the admiral said. "You know, everyone is worried about our nuclear bombs getting in some madman's hands. But while there's been all that talk, we've sold half our conventional weaponry, which can be as deadly under the proper circumstances. Nobody says anything about that."
"I'm saying something. Where did the India-class subs go?"
"One was scrapped. The other was sold to a private buyer."
"Do you know his name?"
"Of course, but what difference does it make? He represented a group that was obviously a straw for someone else. There could be many layers in between the buyer and the person who forked over the money."
"But you have
a suspicion about who bought it?"
"I'm pretty sure it stayed within the country. The buyer was an outfit called Volga Industries. They had an office in Moscow, but who knows where their parent companies were? Nobody really cared. They paid in cash."
Petrov shook his head. "How could someone so easily remove a war machine three hundred and fifty feet long?"
"It's done all the time. All you need is some hard-up officers in the military who haven't been paid in a year. We've got lots of them living on promises. Then you have the collusion of government maggots and it's done. The worst are the former communists."
"Like us?"
"Tripe! We waved the red flag, but we were never ideological. I know you didn't believe that bull. We did it because it was exciting and somebody else was paying the bill."
"I'll need some names."
"How could I forget? The scum who were making millions selling all this war material asked if I wanted a piece. I said no, that it wasn't right to sell the people's property for personal gain. Next thing I know, I was out of the navy on my ass. Nobody would hire me. So here I am."
The admiral was wandering into a bitter swamp. "The names, please, Admiral."
"Sorry," he said, composing himself. "The years haven't been easy. There were five principals in the deal." He rattled off the names.
"I know all of them," Petrov said. "They were petty functionaries in the party who have flourished by picking the bones of the Soviet Union."
"What can I say, my friend? Well, is that enough? It's all I've got. The people who come here don't talk about military secrets. Anyway, it was good to see you. My employers expect me to make the rounds of the tables every few minutes. So excuse me, I must get back to work."
"Maybe not," Petrov said. He reached into his suit pocket and extracted a brown envelope. "If you could make a wish, what would it be?"
"Aside from making my wife alive again and persuading my children that it is worth their time to talk to me?" He thought about it for a moment. "I would like to move to the United States. To Florida. I would sit in the sun and talk only to those I wanted to talk to."
"What a coincidence," Petrov said. "Within this envelope is a one-way plane ticket to Fort Lauderdale, leaving tomorrow, a passport and visa, and the immigration paperwork that will ensure your stay there. There is also some money to live on and the name of a gentleman who is looking for an investor to buy into his fishing company. He especially wants someone who has experience on the sea It would be a much smaller fleet than you have been used to."