Orlov steepled his fingers together and leaned back in his chair.
"You believe Yun will not allow the Americans to launch their rescue."
"I think it's likely he will not. But as I said, he's unpredictable. He may decide a magnanimous gesture is a better decision than the humiliation of certain defeat, assuming he understands the concept of defeat in the first place. I'm not sure that he does."
"What do you suggest, General?"
"Sir, I think we must find a way to intervene. Early winter and floods are already creating big problems in the North. Yun needs heavy machinery, food, fuel. We could bribe him. Offer him what he needs. Point out to him the international approval he would gain by allowing the United States to try and rescue their submariners. Offer some sort of ongoing aid he can use to help him maintain power."
Orlov laughed. "I had no idea of your diplomatic potential, General. A bribe. It might work. I agree that war on the peninsula is not to our advantage at this time. Beijing will see it as interference, however."
"The Chinese don't want a war in Korea any more than we do," Vysotsky said. "Yun might not respond to an offer from us, but Beijing could make the approach. Perhaps we could provide the supplies needed and the Chinese could take the credit. If they can persuade Yun to cooperate, it increases his obligation to them. Yun could claim that the sinking was an unfortunate accident and that he allowed the rescue in the name of common humanity. Both Yun and the Chinese would save face and avoid confronting the Americans. It also gives us a chip with the Chinese for the future."
"I see that I was correct in promoting you to your position."
"Thank you, Mister President."
"What happened to that American submarine?"
"It's possible they had a system malfunction, an accident."
"You don't sound very convinced, General."
"We picked up the transmission from the submarine's emergency buoy. Something happened to the computers and took all of them off-line within seconds. The sub never had a chance. There has been recent intelligence indicating that the Americans have developed an underwater weapon that can cripple a ship's electronic systems."
"They wouldn't use it against their own vessel."
"Of course not, but perhaps they were testing it and something went wrong."
"What is the status of your current operation in the Ukraine?"
Orlov was referring to a plan to kill the Ukrainian chief of internal security and counterintelligence. Vysotsky noticed that Orlov had used the word "your" rather than "our." The fact that Orlov had ordered the assassination would make no difference if the attempt failed. Vysotsky would be the one who paid the price.
"Everything is on schedule."
"Good."
Orlov stood. Vysotsky rose with him.
"Find out who killed the Chinese ambassador and why."
"Yes, Mister President."
Vysotsky came to attention, clicked his heels together and left the room.
Find out who killed the ambassador.
Back inside his limo, Alexei took out the vodka from the liquor compartment and poured a shot into a silver shot cup. Finding out who had killed the Chinese ambassador would be the least of it. Why he was killed was a different matter entirely.
He poured another shot and threw it back. He'd put Antipov on it when she got back from her assignment in the Ukraine.
CHAPTER 4
Winter in the Ukraine was no kinder than it was in Russia, which meant it was hell on earth. Old people who remembered World War II were already saying this year was like the winter of '42-'43. That was the winter German troops froze to death by the tens of thousands, sacrificed by Hitler to bad planning and the pointless strategy of no retreat.
In the ongoing war between the rebel separatists and the Ukrainian Army, things were on hold because of the snow and cold. In the rebel held enclave of Donetsk, people struggled to stay warm and find enough food to get through the day. In Kiev, food and warmth was not a problem for the pro-Western government, installed after the Russian-backed president had been forced from power.
The real power in Ukraine lay not with the puppet president and his cabinet but with a man most people in the West had never heard of. Bhodan Sirko was Director of the SBU, the Sluzhba Bezpeky Ukrayiny, Ukraine's security and counterintelligence service. During the Soviet era, the SBU had been an extension of the KGB, priding itself in the ruthless suppression of dissent. When the KGB ceased to exist, the attitudes and techniques of the SBU didn't change. Neither did the tendency toward corruption and abuse of power.
Sirko had taken over after the 2014 revolution and proceeded with a brutal purge of agents who were pro-Russian. Hundreds fled to Russia before they could be arrested. In the Kremlin, Sirko's name was spoken with contempt. For Vladimir Orlov, Sirko was a thorn in the paw of the Russian bear.
Alexei Vysotsky had gone to Orlov with information that Sirko was closing in on one of Russia's best hidden assets, a man in the cabinet of the Kiev government. Orlov decided he'd had enough.
"I am tired of dealing with Sirko," Orlov said. "You understand?"
"Yes, Mister President."
"Good. Take care of it."
Vysotsky had no problem with the order. Bhodan Sirko was a despicable man, not only an enemy of the Federation but a truly awful specimen of humanity. His cruelty was legendary. In the few short years since he'd taken over the Ukrainian Secret Service, Sirko had set new standards of torture that even the old KGB would have found distasteful.
Orlov's order and Vysotsky's willing cooperation was why Valentina Antipov was now observing herself in the mirror of a ladies room in the Ukrainian House in downtown Kiev, making sure that her waitress uniform was perfect.
During the Soviet era, Ukrainian House had been a museum housing artifacts about Lenin. It had been remodeled and packaged as the premier conference facility of the Ukraine. Today, the President of Ukraine was hosting a conference on the global environment. Bhodan Sirko would be in attendance, forced to pay lip service to the President's authority.
Valentina's job was to kill him.
She was dressed for the occasion in traditional Ukrainian garb, a colorful touch ordered for the serving staff at the conference. Valentina wore a white, long sleeved blouse embroidered down the front with blue and red flowers. A fringed, red skirt reached to her knees. A circlet of flowers rested on her hair, dyed jet black for this occasion and coifed in traditional style on top of her head. Brown contact lenses hid intense green eyes inherited from her Russian mother. Pads in her cheeks changed the contours of her face, giving her more of a peasant look.
The changes were subtle but it would be difficult for someone to identify her for who she was, a serving officer in the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service. No one looking at her would think she was anything but a Ukrainian woman in the prime of her life.
She'd thought about targeting Sirko outside the conference center but gave up on the idea once she'd studied the location. The center was huge with many entrances, including special access for important people. This was a big event. Government officials were attending from many countries, including the United States and Europe. Security was more than tight. The SBU was as good as its KGB predecessor when it came to security and Valentina knew how good that could be. She'd been trained by its best practitioners.
Sirko wouldn't be exposed outside the building. Even if he were, all the possible places where an assassin might wait would be covered by the security services. He'd have to be taken on the inside.
Sometimes it was easy to get to someone at an event. A sports arena, a party, a conference, all presented opportunities when the intended target would be surrounded by people and security could be distracted. But Sirko was no ordinary target. He was paranoid and suspicious, with good reason. There had already been two failed attempts to take him out of the picture. He would be surrounded by bodyguards.