The Kremlin Games(86)

Cass’ first contribution had been the notion of starting with a quarter-charge and gradually increasing the charge till they got to the standard double-charge or the breech blew so they would be able to tell how much they needed. “After all,” Cass had argued, “with a breech loader we can open the breech and use a ramrod to clear the barrel if we need to.”

That had saved time by letting them know just how much of a charge was needed to blast out a fifteen-thread deep breechblock. It turned out that to be safe they needed a thirty-thread block and that made for a very heavy breechblock. It needed supporting gear and bearings to hold it up and make it movable. And it was what would be called in another universe a “three-motion” block. Rotate, pull out, swing aside—four actions in point of fact—because a blast shield had to be swung into place. Some of the charge leaked out the less-than-perfect seal between the breechblock and the bore of the gun. Enough to be deadly dangerous to the gun crew without the shield.

All of this made the process of loading the rifled piece cumbersome. Not, however, as cumbersome as loading a muzzle-loader. They were small-bore guns for the weight of shot they fired and because they were rifled, they had a smoother, straighter trajectory. But they were slow to make and expensive. The Gun Shop had two of the eighty-caliber light cannon ready and parts for four more, but it took weeks to finish and fit the breechblock and threading for each gun. They might have four ready by the end of May, but three was more likely.

Cass shook his head. “Tell him we’ll try, but we don’t expect to have four by the end of May or five by the end of June. We’ll send him the guns as fast as we get them made and we’ll go ahead and send the two we have to now so he can train crews on them.” Cass paused. “The volley guns are doing well. And we should have half-a-dozen of them by the end of May.” Fortunately the volley guns used the standard chamber and barrel of the AK3. It just used twenty-four of them in three rows of eight. All they needed was the plate that held the chambers in place and the mounting carriage. It would divert some of their on-the-side AK3 rifle production, but this way they could claim that the volley guns were the cause of the delay.





Chapter 48



April 1634



“The police want to talk to you,” Gregorii said in his heavy Russian accent.

“Oh, Lord,” Brandy muttered. “What’s gone wrong now?” She picked up the phone receiver and said, “This is Brandy Bates. How can I help you?”

“Is that you, Brandy? I was trying for your Russian,” Angela Baker, the police dispatcher said.

“He’s off doing spy stuff, I bet, Angela. What’s up?”

“Well . . . we’ve got a caravan of Russians downtown. Lots of them. Are they yours?”

Brandy’s heart sank into her stomach. “Probably. We were expecting them around now. More or less.”

Angela laughed. “I’ll send them out to you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

* * *

The dragon ladies didn’t arrive alone. Over a hundred Russians came with them: a priest, his family, students of medicine, engineering, architecture, aeronautics, oil wildcatting and a host of other interests. But the dragon ladies ruled the caravan, three ladies of great houses. All three of them were mothers or grandmothers of boyars. One was a friend of Vladimir’s Aunt Sofia, Madam Lukashenko.

She was, Vladimir insisted, Brandy’s friend at court. Brandy’s enemy at court was Madam Sheremetev, as the old bat made clear with a sniff the day they arrived. The neutral, Madam Streshnyova, was a friend of the czarina’s mother, which Brandy figured was at least marginally a good thing. By now Bernie had been in Moscow for over two years. A Russian had flown not that long after Jesse Wood did. Admittedly, in a lighter-than-air balloon rather than an airplane, but flying was flying. There were plows and Fresno scrapers being made in some place called Murom. And an essential element to it all was Vladimir Gorchakov. Increasingly Brandy Bates was another essential element, doing for Vladimir here in Grantville what Bernie was doing in Russia.

As she did right now, arranging for housing for the flood of new arrivals. A number were allowed to rest from their trip, then sent on to the Wietze oil fields. Some were set up in one of the new subdivisions that had sprung up outside of the Ring of Fire and some were installed in the Residentz. But while Brandy could place most of them, the dragon ladies were unwilling to go where they were told.

“What about suites at the Higgins Hotel?” Brandy asked, feeling a bit desperate. Madam Sheremetev and her kabuki makeup was about the scariest woman she’d ever met.