He was still reeling from this shocking bit of news when general Likhatchev, finished with his staff, motioned for Orlov to join him. Slowly, the Russian colonel made his way through the crowded room, paying the staff officers little heed. He kept his eyes on the General, trying to gauge the man's mood and, perhaps, his intent.
For his part, Likhatchev greeted his former subordinate as he would any other member of his staff reporting for duty. "I trust you slept well, Demetre."
Conscious that there was more in play than he was aware of and that he needed to maintain his vigilance, Orlov responded with little more than a nod and a grunt.
Sensing that his former protégé’s guard was up, and knowing full well that he would insist on some sort of evidence that his claim about the NATO forces was true, the general focused his attention on the wall lined with a battery of maps, each posted with a variety of information. Pointing to red circles on one of the maps displaying the location of the missile silos scattered about the region, the general began by giving Orlov a quick overview of the situation as they knew it. "The NATO transports that appeared in the wake of the asteroid strike brought us more than emergency relief aid. Small commando teams were dropped throughout the region under the most horrific conditions imaginable." Pausing, Likhatchev turned and gave Orlov a once-over. "Of course, I have no need to tell you just how bad things were out there."
For the first time, the Russian colonel felt self-conscious about his physical appearance. Averting his eyes for a moment, he made a halfhearted gesture to brush off his uniform. "Yes," he said in an uncharacteristically apologetic tone. "It was by far the worst that I have ever seen it." Then, catching himself, he straightened and looked into the General's eyes.
Likhatchev made no effort to hide the pleasure he felt in being able to manipulate a man many considered to be impervious to the subtle psychological tricks men use to throw other men off balance. Orlov imagined that it pleased the old man that he had not lost his touch. When Likhatchev turned back to face the map, the Russian colonel reprimanded himself for letting his guard down like that.
"Our damage-assessment teams were the first to discover our unexpected guests," the General continued. "Some of them were already dead, others not far from it. As best we can determine, the force not only consists of the usual suspects, but includes some of the more exotic components of NATO's Special Operations command. We have evidence that members of the Danish Jaegerkorptset, Belgian para commandos, and Hungarians from their Kommando Spezialkrafte are participating in this operation. Even our old friends, the Poles, couldn't resist the temptation to join in on the fun. They threw in some of their finest, commandos belonging to their 1 Pulk Komandosow Specalnego Przezanczenia. All in all, it's a real gathering of eagles."
Likhatchev paused as he reflected on both the magnitude of the operation and the apparent unity among the diversity of the participants. "As you can see, their objectives are scattered through the region."
The Russian colonel, in an effort to gain a psychological advantage over the General, shook his head. "I see that they have been quite selective in regard to their targets," he said in a hushed tone, almost as if he were thinking out loud. "I may be mistaken; but it would appear to me that they are all sites that are part of the Perimeter system."
Now it was Likhatchev's turn to have his composure rattled. He was stunned that a man who was neither a member of the Strategic Rocket Force nor part of the National Command could so easily recognize Dead Hand sites. "Yes, well," he mumbled as he endeavored to recover his composure, "neither their presence nor the targets they are after are a coincidence." Turning, he faced Orlov and drew near until the two were but a centimeter or two apart. "It would appear that our friends in Moscow have been hedging their bets. While they sent you out here to decapitate the threat, they more or less have sanctioned this NATO intervention."
Orlov took this bit of news in stride. "Are you suggesting that our own government is allowing NATO to destroy a key component of our Strategic Rocket Force?"
The general shrugged. "My sources in Moscow are not sure just who approached who in this matter. But," he sighed, "let there be no doubt that the NATO troops out there have Moscow's blessing."
That the men who had sent him out here to kill Likhatchev were capable of such duplicity was easy for Orlov to accept. Equally understandable was the fact that he was never informed about this other effort aimed at ending the General's revolt. Just what he would do now was a question that he had no answer for at the moment. In an effort to buy himself a bit of time to mull this over, Orlov went back to studying the map.
Though the room was crowded, staff officers who stood between Orlov and the map he was looking at quickly found someplace else to move to when the notorious commander of commandos stepped forward in order to take a closer look. "These two sites," he asked as he tapped each one with the tip of his index finger, "they have been missed?"
Likhatchev grunted as he joined Orlov at the map. "Not through lack of trying. Here." he indicated, pointing to the site nearest the regional headquarters, "we were fortunate in that we had the troops available to defend the silo. The security detachment managed to hold the Americans in check until reinforced by two platoons from here. Through sheer weight of numbers, we were able to wipe out their American Special Forces teams."
"I would have liked to have been part of the interrogation of the prisoners taken from that fight," Orlov commented as he studied the graphics that recorded the ground covered during the pursuit of the American intruders.
Likhatchev bowed his head and sighed. "I am afraid there were no prisoners."
"Not even wounded?" Orlov asked, incredulous.
The general looked up at his former subordinate. "You have engaged in enough close combat to know that. When a unit suffers heavily in battle, it tends to show the enemy little in the way of mercy."
"These are NATO troops we are talking about," Orlov retorted, "not Chechen rebels. There will be hell to pay."
Incensed by this criticism from a man who had been sent to assassinate him, the General's eyes narrowed as he drew himself up. "Invited or not, they have invaded Russia!" he bellowed. "No one who has the audacity to lift his hand against our people deserves to be spared."
"Does that include me?" the Russian colonel countered before he forced himself to return to his examination of the map in an effort to demonstrate that he was unaffected by the General's outburst.
The sharp exchange between the two men had brought all activity in the operations center to a complete stand-still. It took Likhatchev a moment before he noticed that his subordinates were gawking in surprise and confusion. Most of them had never seen their commander treated like this by a mere colonel. With a single scathing glance, he brought an end to this embarrassing pause.
The Russian general was still engaged in his silent intimidation of his staff when Orlov, bent over and studying the map, spoke. "I imagine there is a good reason why you have brought me here and taken the time to personally brief me on this situation."