The three women headed to the tenth floor, where they gathered in Christine’s room. Elena explained the one detail of her assignment pertinent to the other two women. One of them would introduce her to Chernov, and she would take it from there.
After Elena left, Christine prepared for bed, donning a silk nightgown before slipping under the sheets. Although she was tired from the long trip, her body told her it was only midafternoon due to the jet lag. She tossed and turned for a while, her thoughts shifting frequently to Elena’s assignment to assassinate Chernov, before she eventually drifted off to sleep.
The morning arrived quicker than Christine had hoped. After a shower and a cup of strong coffee, brought to her by one of the Diplomatic Security Service agents, she was ready to begin the day. Elena was waiting in the hallway, wearing a business suit and leaning against the wall, a black attaché case in one hand. Christine knocked on Dawn’s door and she answered, and they headed to the lobby.
After their car pulled to a halt in front of the Kremlin Senate, they were greeted by an aide to Foreign Minister Lavrov, who escorted them to a conference room on the third floor, one Christine knew well. The first two rounds of follow-on nuclear arms reduction talks had been held here. The thirty-seat conference table was already half-full, and Christine spotted the three seats reserved for them, with placards on the table in front of each chair.
Foreign Minister Lavrov approached Christine and her two companions. “Miss O’Connor,” he said, “it is a pleasure to see you again. I’m glad you were able to join us.”
“It’s good to see you again as well, Minister Lavrov.” Turning to Dawn and Elena, she introduced America’s secretary of state and their interpreter.
Russia’s foreign minister engaged them in conversation, containing nothing of substance, until the meeting was called to order. Before Christine headed to her seat, she searched the conference room for Defense Minister Chernov. He was nowhere to be found.
She turned to Lavrov. “Will Defense Minister Chernov attend the summit?”
“He is disposed otherwise,” Lavrov replied.
Christine’s stomach knotted. Their plan hinged on Elena meeting Chernov.
“But he plans to join us tonight at the reception.”
The tension eased from Christine’s body. Their plan was still on track.
The summit progressed slowly at first, then picked up speed once the participants settled on the objective for the meeting. Without full NATO participation, no agreement could be reached. However, it was decided that the summit would develop a framework for formal negotiations, and that plan suited both sides. The Russians were pleased because things were progressing toward a peaceful and favorable solution, and the United States and its NATO allies were satisfied since the plan stalled substantive discussions; the United States had no intention of negotiating away part of Lithuania or the eastern one-third of Ukraine. Although the participants were prepared to work through the weekend, it soon became clear that a suitable framework would be developed by the end of the day.
54
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Seated at his desk in the Oval Office, the president hung up the phone, then turned sideways in his chair, looking across the south lawn as the early morning sun illuminated the rose garden’s red, pink, and white flowers. Deep in thought, he smoothed his blue tie against his white shirt, failing to notice that his tie, a gift from the first lady, matched the color of the drapes and the presidential seal on the rug.
The president’s telephone discussion with CIA Director Cherry had been short and nondescript, the details of their conversation deliberately vague. The continental security summit in Moscow had wrapped up and the operation was on track. In a few hours, if everything went as planned, the detonator disarm code would be obtained and the president would give the order, placing thousands of men and women in the military in harm’s way. There would be a significant loss of life, SecDef McVeigh had explained: hundreds, if not thousands, of Americans dead. It was a decision the president did not take lightly, but one he had already made. The United States could not sit by and let Russia annex portions of two sovereign countries.
The president pressed the intercom button on his phone, directing his executive assistant to get Prime Minister Susan Gates on the line. With the assistance of the British prime minister, the stalling tactics had worked, pushing off the votes on the resolutions authorizing the use of NATO force to expel Russia from Ukraine and Lithuania.
“Mr. President.” The voice of his executive assistant emanated from the phone’s speaker. “I’ve got Prime Minister Gates on the line.”
The president picked up the phone, and after thanking Sue for her assistance within NATO, he broached the sensitive subject, informing her that the United States would go it alone, attacking Russian forces within a few hours if things went as planned. Once the order was given and the attack imminent, the United States’ permanent representative to NATO would inform the remaining NATO countries of the U.S. military response.
As the president prepared to conclude his conversation with Minister Gates, he considered revealing plan B, the second phase of the campaign. However, it was a delicate operation, its success dependent even more on secrecy. He decided to leave that part out.
The president hung up, then checked his watch. Evening was approaching in Moscow, and with it, the reception where Elena Krayev would meet Boris Chernov, and the one obstacle standing between them and the detonator disarm code would be overcome.
55
MOSCOW
It was 6 p.m. by the time the summit ended, and after a quick dinner in the hotel restaurant with Dawn and Elena, Christine returned to her room and changed into a formal dress for the evening’s reception. After touching up her makeup, she stepped from her room and knocked on Elena’s door. It was slightly ajar and Christine pushed it slowly open, calling Elena’s name. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing an elegant, form-fitting Russian Federation — red evening gown with her hands folded in her lap, staring at the wall. She turned her head slowly when Christine opened the door, then stood without a word. After grabbing a small purse from her desk, she joined Christine in the hallway as Dawn emerged from her room.
They descended to the lobby and headed to the hotel entrance, where a black limousine, situated between two sedans containing Diplomatic Security Service agents, was waiting to take the three women to the Kremlin Senate. During the short drive, Elena was silent, staring out the side window at the buildings along Mokhovaya Street. As they approached the southwest corner of the Kremlin, her attention was drawn to the five-century-old Borovitskaya Tower, with its green decorative spire rising to a ruby-red five-pointed star, symbol of the Soviet Union. After passing through Borovitskaya Gate, their car pulled to a halt in front of the Kremlin Senate.
They were escorted by a Kremlin aide to a ballroom on the third floor — the same one the Victory Day gala had been held in: a white marble — clad room with exquisite crystal chandeliers, their sparkling lights illuminating a glossy but crowded parquet floor. Waiters dressed in tuxedos made their way through the crowd, carrying silver platters filled with hors d’oeuvres and glasses of wine and champagne, offering the contents to the guests.