Korenev called down to the watch captain, asking if he wanted a cup of tea. The man replied affirmatively as expected, and Korenev reached into his pocket and retrieved the item the American had given him on the Red Arrow — a small vial of what was presumably eye drops — and he placed three drops of the liquid into the watch captain’s tea.
After delivering the drink to the watch captain, Korenev waited as the man sipped his tea, his eyelids growing heavy shortly thereafter. A few minutes later, his eyes closed and his head sagged onto his chest. After convincing himself that the watch captain was asleep, Korenev moved toward the double-door safe containing the nuclear authorization codes, where he was joined by Timoshenko. Korenev knew the combination to the outer door, while Timoshenko could open the inner door.
Before proceeding, Timoshenko asked about his payment. “Have you obtained the funding?”
Upon returning to Severomorsk, Korenev had verified that Mixell had deposited twenty million U.S. dollars into the account. “Everything is arranged,” Korenev replied. “Your half of the money will be transferred into this account.” He handed Timoshenko a letter.
As Timoshenko reviewed the information, Korenev entered his combination and opened the first door, then Timoshenko opened the second. Korenev pulled the contents from the safe, sorting through the material for the authorization codes for tactical nuclear weapons. Upon finding the packet, he wrote down one of the sixteen-digit codes. Only a single code was required, which could be entered into every warhead, so the launch platform didn’t have to individually arm each weapon.
Korenev replaced the contents of the safe, returning them to their previous locations, then shut and locked both doors. A half-hour later, with Korenev and Timoshenko at their workstations reading naval messages on their displays, the watch captain woke from a groggy sleep, then eyed Korenev and Timoshenko to see if either man had noticed his lapse. Both men remained focused on their screens as they heard the watch captain stir, then stand and visit the tea station for another dose of caffeine.
This was a critical part of the plan. Making the watch captain fall asleep instead of killing him was essential, as there could be no indication that the nuclear launch safeguards had been compromised. Until it was too late, that is.
13
GADZHIYEVO, RUSSIA
It was just past midnight as a full moon illuminated a half-dozen nuclear attack and ballistic missile submarines tied up along the piers jutting into Yagelnaya Bay. Not far away, in Gadzhiyevo Naval Base’s ordnance bunker complex, Vasily Morozov monitored the security cameras, noticing the arrival of Anatoly Bogdanov at one of the emergency exits, carrying a suitcase. Morozov remotely unlocked the door and Bogdanov slipped into the complex, arriving at the security center a few minutes later.
Neither man spoke as Bogdanov entered the combination and opened one safe, while Morozov opened another, and each man retrieved a key. Bogdanov led the way through the maze of concrete tunnels connecting the ordnance bunkers, arriving at their destination. Unlike bunkers storing conventional weapons, with their doors secured by padlocks, this bunker was protected by two thick metal doors that sealed together with an internal locking mechanism.
Bogdanov stopped short of the entrance doors and opened the suitcase obtained aboard the Red Arrow, retrieving the thin, two-inch-diameter disk provided by the American. He carefully approached the security camera mounted on the wall, ensuring he remained out of view. Reaching up, he placed the disk near the camera lens, facing in the same direction, and pressed a button on its side, taking a video recording. After a few seconds, an indicator on the side of the disk flashed green.
He pressed the button again, sending an electronic signal that scrambled the camera’s video, then slipped the disk in front of the camera and pressed it against the lens, where it stuck in place. He pressed the button a third time, activating the disk. The camera would now see a video clip played in a loop instead of a live feed, allowing Bogdanov and Morozov to approach the bunker doors unnoticed.
Bogdanov inserted his key into the security panel on one side of the doors while Morozov did the same on the other side, and both men turned their keys simultaneously. After a heavy clank, the steel doors rumbled slowly apart. Bogdanov retrieved the suitcase and stopped at the entrance, surveying the tactical nuclear weapons inside. In the early 1990s, Russia had removed all tactical nuclear weapons from its ships and land-based units, moving them to secure storage areas. Gadzhiyevo Naval Base was the repository for the Northern Fleet’s allocation of nuclear weapons, which included nuclear-warhead-armed Kalibr missiles.
Morozov accompanied Bogdanov as he moved toward the missiles, stopping by the nearest four-tier stowage rack. Opening the suitcase again, he retrieved a tool roll and handed it to Morozov, while he grabbed the laser cleaner. Morozov started removing the bottom missile’s guidance and control section nose cone, which was painted in a red and yellow scheme indicating the missile was configured with a nuclear warhead, while Bogdanov focused on the warhead itself. He activated the laser cleaner, stripping the white paint from the desired section, and more important, the warhead’s black serial number.
Bogdanov then sprayed the bare metal with white, quick-drying paint, feathering the edges so it blended in, and moved on to the next warhead as the paint dried. After stripping the serial number from all four missiles, he returned to the first, verifying the paint had dried, then pulled a pack of stencils, each precut with a different serial number in the required font and size. He taped the first stencil to the bottom warhead and sprayed the new serial number onto the white surface with black paint. After removing the stencil, he stepped back to assess his work. There was no indication the serial number had been changed, replacing it with one from a conventionally armed missile.
After stenciling the new number onto the fourth missile, Bogdanov moved on to the most challenging aspect of tonight’s endeavor. He retrieved the handheld computer Korenev had provided on the Red Arrow and connected it to the guidance and control section of the bottom missile. The computer activated automatically and communicated with the missile, stopping at the critical point. Bogdanov entered the nuclear arming code Korenev had provided earlier in the day, then waited tensely as the computer transferred the code to the missile. A few seconds later, the digital display on the missile flashed Warhead Armed in red letters.
Bogdanov armed the other three warheads and looked up as Morozov, who had departed the bunker fifteen minutes earlier, returned with a forklift carrying four conventionally armed Kalibr missiles, whose serial numbers matched the new numbers Bogdanov had stenciled onto the four warheads. Bogdanov repeated the laser cleaning and painting process, stenciling the serial numbers from the nuclear-warhead-armed missiles onto the conventional ones while Morozov swapped the nose cones, then they exchanged the four missiles in the bunker.
Now sitting on the stowage rack were four conventionally armed Kalibr missiles, indistinguishable from their nuclear brethren. The situation would soon be the same in the conventional bunker, with Kalibr missiles armed with nuclear warheads blending in with their conventional counterparts.
Bogdanov checked his watch. They were on a tight timeline — they had until 6 a.m. to complete the swap of twenty Kalibr missiles.
14
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
In the conference room on the fifth floor of Blokhin National Medical Research Center, Aleksandr Plecas held his wife in his arms as she squeezed him tightly. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but unlike a few days ago in their hotel room, they were tears of joy. Dr. Vasiliev had just delivered the news — the expensive experimental drug for their daughter had been approved, and the odds it would cure Natasha’s cancer were good.