“I need to speak with Colonel Dmitry Chayko immediately,” he thought. His Kremlin Guard commander had turned the regiment into a highly trained killing machine, and if Grigory and his Spetsnaz were going to depose him today, they’d need to get through Chayko’s men first. If that happened, Petrov wouldn’t be able to get additional army units from the local garrison to come to their rescue. Chayko’s men would only need to hold the fortress grounds for a handful of hours until help arrived.
“Of course, I could just be over-analyzing a nightmare,” he thought, conflicted.
At 0530 hours, after a hot shower and breakfast, President Petrov was handed the phone, which he eagerly took. “Colonel Chayko,” he began, “I want you to put your regiment on alert for a possible coup. You are to order your entire regiment to alert status, move the bulk of your forces to the fortress and prepare it to repel a possible attack. Is that understood?”
A slight pause took place on the other end. “Yes, Mr. President, at once,” answered Colonel Dmitry Chayko. “I shall report to your office within the hour. Shall I alert your security detail that this is happening?”
Petrov thought about that. Oleg probably should be notified; he didn’t want to alarm the FSO guards. If there was a coup, he’d need their help in repelling the attack as well. “Yes. Coordinate with Major General Zolotov, and report to me right away,” he said and then hung up the phone.
Feeling better now that he had put his fears at ease, Petrov headed to his office to begin packing a few personal belongings he wanted to bring with him to the underground bunker. After he ordered the release of nuclear weapons, he would order the government to move to their various secured facilities while they hoped and prayed the limited use of the nukes wouldn’t lead to an overwhelming retaliation by the Americans.
After finishing up his preparations, Petrov glanced at his watch again. It was 0750 hours, and the final meeting he’d hold in the Senate Palace was quickly approaching. At 0900 hours, his meeting with his senior military leaders would set into motion a series of orders and events that would either end the war by tomorrow or spiral it quickly out of control. It was a gamble, but if he hoped to stay in power and for Russia to prevail, he had to take it.
The air was cold, and a light dusting of snow blanketed the city as a column of eight T-90 battle tanks, twenty-six BTR-3s and thirty-two BTR armored personnel carriers made their way through the streets of Moscow. The morning rush hour was light since the city was still under a petrol restriction, but the sight of so many armored vehicles and tanks moving in the direction of Red Square certainly caught the eyes of many people, both on the road and on the sidewalks.
Colonel Dmitry Chayko had arrived at the Kremlin grounds at 0630 hours, appearing very much ready to repel an enemy force or coup should his men have to. He’d brought nearly all the armored vehicles and tanks assigned to his unit for this operation. Upon arriving at the Kremlin, he hopped out of his vehicle and approached his nightshift commander, a lieutenant colonel, and informed him of the increase in alert status.
He then proceeded to issue orders for his various companies to move the armored vehicles to encircle the Kremlin fortress in a defensive circle, ready to defend the grounds if so ordered. He had his soldiers expand the perimeter around the grounds and placed heavy machine guns and snipers in the various guard towers surrounding the walled compound. Next, he placed soldiers at every entrance to each building and made sure he had multiple quick reaction force groups ready to move to any potential breaches in their perimeter. They ran through this deployment of forces just as they had in their training scenarios; everything was running like clockwork.
Once his troops had been deployed, he met with several of his key lieutenant colonels and majors, who knew about the special instructions from Petrov but were clearly nervous about what it all meant. Several of them looked at him apprehensively. Dmitry knew he needed to allay their concerns.
“The President called me very early this morning. Apparently, he had a premonition or dream that he somehow might be deposed by some rogue army generals. Accordingly, he wanted me to have the regiment ready, in case his dream did in fact become reality. We’re going to treat this like any other drill, and make our President feel safe and secure. As you know, my father-in-law is the head of the FSO. If there were more to this, then he would have told me so himself. So, please, let’s use this as an opportunity to drill our men to be prepared for anything. I want everyone to go along with our initial plan we had for the day. The code word for the day will be ‘morning glory.’ When you hear that, initiate our prediscussed plans. Understood?” he asked.
A chorus of “Yes, Sir” echoed back from his officers.
All but one of them had been read on to the real plan. They’d all agreed that if the President’s orders to release nuclear weapons were allowed to happen, their country, families, and everything they held dear would soon be destroyed. They had stood by and supported their President in the war against the Allies, but this next step was too much for them. If they didn’t take a stand now, there wouldn’t be a country left to serve or protect.
With the morning briefing done, his officers went about getting the fortress ready to repel an attack and tightened security around a variety of sensitive government buildings across the city.
It was nearly the end of January, and the full might of the Russian winter was on display in Moscow. The temperature had dropped significantly, and a winter storm was threatening to blanket the city in heavy snow that was sure to add to the already-terrible traffic of a major metropolitan city. When Oleg Zolotov’s vehicle stopped at the Borovitskaya Tower entry control point, he immediately noticed the increased security his son-in-law had warned him about. Instead of the eight soldiers that stood guard with a BTR parked at an angle that would allow it to close access to the Kremlin grounds, there was a BMP-3 blocking the road and a T-90 main battle tank, along with nearly a full platoon of soldiers.
The guard walked up to Oleg’s vehicle. “Papers!” he demanded.
Oleg passed his official papers over, along with his driver’s. The guard looked at the documents briefly, then snapped to attention and rendered a crisp salute before returning them. He twirled his hand in the air briefly to let the man driving the BMP know to move back so Oleg’s vehicle could pass. Seconds later, Oleg’s vehicle drove through the checkpoint and continued toward the Senate Palace, the personal residence of President Petrov and the seat of power in Moscow.
As the vehicle drove briefly past the Cathedral of the Archangel, they came to the Ivanovskaya Square, where he saw another four tanks and eight additional BMP-3s. It looked like Dmitry had moved a large portion of his regiment into the walls.
“Good, he’ll have plenty of soldiers here in case there’s trouble,” thought Oleg.
His driver pulled up to a parking spot that was reserved for him. Getting out of the vehicle, he saw the first signs that the anticipated snowstorm was finally arriving. He set out at once for the Senate Palace, confident in the plan and what he had to do. When he reached the first checkpoint inside the building, he saw a number of his key guards present — men he had personally picked to work this specific shift. The outside of the building might be protected by Dmitry’s men, but the inside was all his.