Ian Maxwell
MOSCOW MACHINATION
To the nukes that keep us safe
Chapter 1
Shenzhen, Southern China
The sleek, black train rushed out of Shenzhen Station just like any other CSR train. The train, the CRH400A was on its third voyage from Shenzhen to Beijing via other speed worthy clusters. Six days ago on its maiden voyage, there had been a bevy of party officials and media types doing their thing. But today was different. Today was all about routine. All about that vaunted Chinese efficiency.
However the CRH400A, unlike the other trains, was indigenously built, using indigenous corporations, indigenous labor, indigenous materials and critically, indigenous technologies.
Ever since the inception of its high speed rail program, Beijing had been at the mercy of its international partners — Germany and Japan. Initially, the program had had inputs from several European nations as well as Japan. However, over time, the Japanese and Germans — duh, through sheer innovation had snuffed out the competition. Technical aspects of this innovation had come down to Macau, Politburo Members and some skanky Audis.
Miffed at the turn of events, the other nations had come up with sweeteners and concessions of their own. But despite their best efforts, only the Canadians had got the nod.
“Mais pourquoi??” the French Ambassador had wailed, “But why??”
“Monsieur, the Canadians, they understand us better. They gave us what we really want…” the Chinese Minister had replied.
“Qu’Est-ce que c’est… what is it?”
“Vancouver.”
“What?”
“Yeah, they gave us the entire City of Vancouver… and we looove Vancouver. We really do…”
Thus the Germans, Japanese and Canadians had ended up as the ‘preferred tech partners’ of the Chinese high speed rail effort.
But unlike the trains based on foreign technology, this, the CRH400A was China’s baby. With a cruising speed of 400Km/hr the homegrown CRH400A was four percent faster than the French TGV, three percent lighter than the Japanese Shinkansen and five percent cheaper than anything out of Bavaria. This transformational leap in performance had been achieved by adding a super-secret sauce. Beijing called it legal experimentation with partner technologies.
The Germans and Japanese called it theft. The duo even hired historians to prove that this theft of IP was the largest heist in history — bigger than the Amber Room, better than the great train robbery, slicker than a Ponzi scheme. In the end, only the fear of getting shut out of the burgeoning Chinese economy had forced the partners to let it slide.
Of course all that had changed, once Beijing began pitching its train sets against the Shinkansen for international contracts. The twin losses of Mexico and Indonesia to the CRH400A had been the final straw.
After thinking long over Sake and hard under an Ethiopian beauty, the Japanese Foreign Minister, Yoshi Yamazaki had decided to go kamikaze. It was time to put an end to this Chinese adventurism. Time to end the decades of Japanese slumber. Time to go kamikaze again. The Japanese Foreign Minister had then drunk texted his German counterpart, “Let’s get even.”
At 6.15AM, Viktor Volokov pulled the black Audi A6 to the road’s shoulder. He double checked his odometer and looked out for the markings on the chain link fence protecting the high speed track. Volokov hit the boot release button as his partner Marko jumped out and headed to the trunk. Volokov killed the engine.
Driving a Made in China automobile, Volokov and Marko were dressed in black suits, ties and shoes — again, all Made in China. Their aim was to impart to the causal Chinese observer that they were Party people. Probably provincial, but still bad Party people.
Pyotr Primakov their mission planner, up in Moscow, had surmised that no one would have the rank to question a black Audi A6 squat in the middle of Guangdong’s industrial belt.
The Shenzhen — Guangzhou high speed line sliced through gigantic manufacturing facilities on either side. On the west were the automakers while the east was filled with undergarment makers.
Primakov, during his research, had become enamored with a certain factory that was about to produce the world’s first smart-underwear. Apparently it made everything fly-by-wire down under. No moving parts. Airbus vs Boeing all over again. Primakov had wondered if it would carry a ‘Designed in California. Assembled in China’ tag at the crack.
Presently, the roads were largely deserted as the midnight shift was still due for a few more hours.
Volokov and Marko pulled out a pair of pliers and got to work on the chain link fence. Two days ago they had picked the spot and pre-cut the fence. Today they just had to make sure they found the pre-cut spot again. They had marked the location first with the Audi’s odometer and as a backup, splashed the scene with red insulation tape. With little exertion, they bent out the pre-cut fence to create an opening that measured 4sqft.
The train with the stolen IP was due in twenty minutes.
Volokov unspooled a steel cable of two millimeters diameter. Handing one end to Marko he pointed him to go north. Unlike everything around them, the steel cable wasn’t ‘Made in China’. It came from good old Magnitogorsk. Totally Russian.
After unspooling about a hundred meters of cable, Marko suddenly began running back. Volokov panicked and looked behind for the murmuring train. According to its manuals the CRH400A generated just 20 decibels, about 90% quieter than the Acela Express. Fortunately for Volokov, there was no train.
Volokov turned back to the scrambling Marko and shouted “Nyet, what are you doing?”
“Noose mechanism… still in the car,” yelled back Marko.
“Fuck.” Volokov slapped his forehead, “How could you forget it?”
Marko shrugged and threw up his arms.
“Jeez. Just go get it then.”
Marko hurried out the fence, back to the Audi. As he arrived, he realized that the trunk was locked and waved back at Volokov, who fumbled and dropped the key onto the tracks before, eventually retrieving it and hitting the right button.
The cluster fuck known as post-Soviet Russia’s contributions to the world were: a) Russian mafia, b) Stunning apocalyptic scenery c) Blonde bombshells and d) Inept Special Forces.
One such inept unit based out of Moscow was the SVR-SB, where the SB stood for Sneg Barusk or the Snow Badger. Some four star general had come up with the name after catching Rob Schneider’s Animal at a Moscow cinema. He had thought it was hilarious. 21st century Perestroika and Glasnost were fun times.
Unlike the feared Spetsnaz or the GRU, the SVR-SB was a bit lower on the totem pole of Russia’s guardian agencies. It ranked somewhere above the Armenian-Babushka Mafia and below the provincial, Chelyabinsk PD. This latest iteration of the SVR-SB had Primakov as the brains and the duo of Volokov-Marko as its brawns.
While not being that good would have spelt doom for most special units, the SVR-SB thrived in its role as a ‘fearless trier’ and a gracious ‘fall guy’. Realizing the potential, the new Russian leadership had begun assigning the SVR-SB to ‘half-assed’ ops which unlike regular ops didn’t really depend on the outcome but rather on the effort — both real and perceived.
And for some reason, the Japanese Foreign Minister Yoshi Yamazaki, wanted exactly half an ass… half an ass of the Chinese rail industry.
Marko rummaged around the boot of the Audi and emerged back with two tiny palm sized steel boxes. Handing Volokov one of the boxes, Marko resumed his run. At the 150 meter mark, he knelt to track level and placed the steel box on the inside of the eastern track. He then attached the steel cable to it. Volokov did the same to the western track. After checking the tension on the cable, the SVR-SB men exited to their Audi.