Aware that the vodka was beginning to take hold, Orlov spoke slowly in order to keep from slurring his words. "Let's just say that you're right. Let's just suppose, for a moment, that the current President uses this crisis as an opportunity to step down. What makes you think that you can succeed where the others have failed?"
Having expected this sort of question, the General leaned forward. "Because, my dear Colonel, I have something that the others did not have. 1 have a crisis, a crisis unlike anything that this nation has experienced since the Great Patriotic War." Easing back in his seat, Likhatchev waved his glass around. "Our people are a tough people, a people who understand the need to make sacrifices when the times require it. Even the dullest peasants will understand the need to give their all to rebuild Mother Russia, just as they did when Stalin launched his five-year plans."
With the liquor and his exhaustion eroding his ability to think, it took Orlov some time to sort out what he was hearing, to gather his thoughts, and to respond. "This is still a coup. And I am still loyal to those whom you seek to replace."
"It doesn't have to be that way, my friend," Likhatchev countered.
"Out there," the Russian colonel explained as he waved his glass about in a vague gesture to indicate the shattered forest where he had been confronted, "I simply abandoned a hopeless position. I do not recall joining your revolution, General."
Standing up, Likhatchev took a final drink before putting the glass down and starting for the door. Before he left, he turned and looked back at Orlov. "Sometimes the truth is not important," he stated. "For my purposes, simple appearances will do."
With that, he walked out of the room and left his former subordinate alone to sort out where he stood. For the moment, time was on the General's side.
But only for a moment.
Chapter 16
Alter having made amazingly good time, delay and frustration became the order of the day for the three SAS teams that were converging on their assigned target. Captain Alex Abraham's team Bravo, approaching from the southwest, had the misfortune of wandering into an uncharted minefield. This incident not only cost Abraham one of the three men with him but the resulting explosion alerted a Russian patrol to their presence. The running gunfight that followed claimed the life of the SAS captain as well as forcing the survivors away from their target.
When Major Thomas Shields discussed this turn of events via radio with Patrick Hogg, both men agreed that engagement was not without its positive aspects. As per their orders, the remnants of Abraham's command were doing all they could to keep the Russian patrol interested and diverting its watch over the missile silo.
While team Bravo did its best, the Russians refused to fully cooperate. Guessing what the unexpected intruders were up to. the commander of the security detachment sent only a small portion of his command to run the survivors of Abraham's team to ground. The bulk of the Russian security force was held back to defend the Perimeter missile the SAS teams were after.
After having gotten as close as he dare. Patrick Hogg, accompanied by Sergeant McPherson. surveyed the situation from a concealed position. The Russian positions encircling the silo stood out against the barren, snow-covered ground. While none of them seemed to be well-dug in. the defenders had more than sufficient cover, thanks to the shock wave that had bowled over the forests. Even more important from the Russians' standpoint, all of the fighting positions were mutually supporting. Rooting them out would take time. Hogg realized, and cost him men that he could ill afford to lose.
From a spot across the way, Major Thomas Shields had come to the same conclusion. In hushed tones, the two men covered the hand mikes of their radios and discussed their options. After comparing notes, they determined that there were probably fifteen or twenty Russians protecting the silo. That gave the security detachment a decided edge, since Hogg had but five in his team, and Shields six, counting himself. While members of the SAS were used to taking on superior numbers, the situation, as it stood, made a successful assault a highly speculative proposition. Neither Hogg nor Shields knew for sure where all the Russians were or their exact number. Ordinarily, a careful reconnaissance would rectify this deficiency, but they did not have time for that. Repeated calls from the American commander in their sector insisted that they execute their assigned target in conjunction with the other teams and upon completion, report to the rally point as quickly as possible.
Having seen all that he expected he would from the spot he was in, Patrick Hogg eased down behind the fallen tree he had been using for cover and continued his discussion with Shields. "Green, this is Blue. They have pretty much gone to ground. Success of an attack from this quarter is highly problematical. I say again, success is highly problematical."
There was a pause before Shields replied in a voice that betrayed just how discouraged he was, "Affirmative, Green."
"It's not like the old man to let something like a dozen or so Russians get him down," McPherson commented as Hogg waited for further contact with his superior.
Hogg, though he meant well, was in no mood to be cheered up. "The major's just lost a fair number of his men," he stated dryly. "Now he's going to have to make a decision that he knows could cost him a good part of what's left."
Sensing Hogg's anger and frustration, McPherson dropped the matter, choosing instead to lean up against the log next to his team leader and take advantage of this opportunity to rest. As he waited in the quiet darkness, there was no doubt in his mind that whatever Major Shields came up with in the next few minutes, it would require a great deal from all of them.
Only after it became clear that his companion had opted to remain mute did it occur to Hogg that this was the last thing he wanted. Unlike McPherson, he could not relax, close his eyes, and let his mind go wandering. To begin with, he was an officer in the midst of a very sensitive operation. Officers could not afford the luxury of disengaging their brains and waiting for someone else to give them a rousing kick in the pants when it was time to pack up and move on. If he permitted himself to relax as McPherson was doing, there was a very good chance that his lack of sleep would catch up and overwhelm him, leaving no one to answer when Shields finally did hail him with a solution to their dilemma.
So the exhausted SAS captain sat there, huddling up as best he could against the growing cold, struggling to stay awake and keep his thoughts focused on the mission.
The darkness that hid him from his foe conspired with the utter stillness and his momentary inactivity to resurrect the personal issues that seemed to be dominating his life as of late. That his Jenny was truly gone was still difficult for Hogg to accept. There had to be another way that he could reach out to her. All he needed to do was to find the right words, he told himself. Hadn't he always been able to do so before? In the past, he had always managed to make her understand just how important she was to him, to see that he needed her and loved her above all else. He couldn't understand how Jenny failed to see that his dedication to duty was simply a calling, while she was his reason for being.