Her uncle was promoted several times, each promotion putting him in a position of more visibility to be shared with the lower echelon of the party elite. It gave Marina detailed insight into both worlds. Knowledge that she used effectively. The smuggling operation lasted until Gorbachev took power. Then visas were made readily available, and the need for smuggling died overnight.
When her uncle died during her twenty-first year, she almost left the Soviet Union. He was why she had stayed. He always spoke of the day a free Russia would emerge, and under the guidance of Gorbachev, the reality seemed close at hand; then came the attempted coup. The government was destabilized and quickly brought under Yeltsin, who meant to install free-market reforms but had no idea how to bring that concept to reality. When Ochinkin began, Marina saw that under the revolution most of the people who held a party office in the Soviet system also held offices in the new government. Communism lurked under the thin skin of democracy, and that kept her operating in the shadows. Her objectives changed.
She couldn’t leave now. Anything she could do to keep communism from reestablishing itself she had to do. Because of her uncle she was known in the Congress, mostly by the reformers. She was exceptional, and her knowledge of certain events by hard-liners helped influence votes in the parliament. She’d warn her friends in the Congress so they could do damage control and beat back the opposition. Her position was a safety valve for the reformers, letting them keep one step ahead of the dirty hard-liner political tricks.
For the moment, she was at a loss. She wasn’t quite sure of the complete story. She knew that a submarine was to be stolen by an outside group. She knew that only the Americans had some idea of what was going on. The Russian black market had put out the word for men who had submarine experience to apply. The opportunity was underscored by the unspoken danger. The request had death and perdition all over it. Only the most desperate or greedy men would inquire further. Marina wanted to inform her friends in Congress, but even she could trust them only so far. If a hard-liner got wind of the situation, an immediate action for a police state would be called on the grounds that the military had to bring the country back under control. Whether the situation would pass without fruition was hard to tell, and she wasn’t going to give it a chance. Marina would have to diffuse this circumstance herself, she decided. Somehow.
She had been driving Nick around Kiev for about an hour. It was to make sure they had not been followed. Once secure in the notion that they were safe, she parked at the train station. The whole ride she had not spoken, and Nick dared not try to strike up a conversation. She called the shots now, and that was fine with him.
“How’s your eye?”
“It’ll be all right,” he replied. “The swelling’s gone down, so it won’t stand out as much.”
“Good.” She had the urge to apologize but couldn’t. Every time she looked at him, all she saw was trouble. Personally she might like his demeanor, but not in the business they were in. “We’ll take the next train to Saint Petersburg. I’ve got your ticket.”
“What happens there?”
“That’s where we get reviewed for our employment. I can’t help you then. You’ll have to make the crew on your own.” She tried to be a bit softer spoken.
“What happens if I don’t?”
“I don’t know.”
It caught Nick by surprise. He wanted to hop out and head home that minute. That fucker Sukudo went through his head, but he sported a smile as the notion hit him. He had never told the whole story. The only thing Nick could do was get on the train and head for Saint Petersburg. Though she hadn’t said it, Marina seemed to rely on him for something. His ego couldn’t leave her in a lurch. “And you’re applying for the crew too?”
“Yes.”
“What if you don’t make it?” Nick didn’t want to be left alone.
“I’ll make it.”
They got out of the car.
“I hope you are right.”
Marina narrowed her eyes, turned her back, and began walking.
Boris Valsovich was quite pleased. His tank battalion was shaping up. His extra supplies had arrived, along with several trucks full of diesel. He had all the equipment for a first-rate tank battalion. The practicing in the nearby hills and swamps returned his men to the professionals that they were, and each regained the respect they had for their colonel. They became a well-honed weapon ready for use.
The individual tank commanders knew something was brewing and repeatedly tried to pry it from Boris in many offhanded ways. They would return to their crews empty. It was perfect. Fighting men ready to fight; fighting men ready to conquer. They would get their day soon and follow through without question. Indeed, Boris was very happy.
Dan’s haze had extended into its second day. He was never one to hold his alcohol well. He was reminded of that fact every time he drank heavily. The Bloody Mary he had at the Kitchen only made things worse. Now he was hard-pressed to find something to do while he waited for Sukudo’s signal. All the other operations of his were put on hold until this problem was resolved. God, will I look like an ass if I’m wrong, he repeated to himself. The only comfort he had was that Mikhail and Sukudo found Stemovich’s plan as probable as he did. Especially Mikhail. To him the plan was not that farfetched. That scared Dan enough that he wished he was wrong and that the whole affair would go away.
Then there was Bluebird. The guilt of allowing Levi to send him back into the operation tore Dan up. George had been one of their best agents in the Middle East, and he was due some respect. He should have been pulled out once he hit American soil. It was wrong to make him go back; he deserved much better.
Again, Levi crossed his mind. What to do about him? He began rehashing the situation that had brought Levi’s attention to the operation. If he hadn’t had to ask him about his Russian contacts, Levi would never have been apprised of this, and the whole operation would still be in Dan’s hands. He didn’t believe in standing by and letting things work themselves out. Hell, by now he might have been to the president.
The president seemed to be a sore spot with Sukudo. Dan had voted for him. He didn’t think the guy was that bad. He tried putting the whole scope of the project in perspective. First, Levi had taken the original operation away to run it himself, and then Sukudo took his secondary operation out of necessity. This left Dan with nothing. He was awaiting word from either man on what could be the fate of the world. How annoying. How did it wind up this way? He was left idle. I may not be allowed to run things halfway around the world, but I sure can shape them here. It was time to find his leak, and Dan didn’t think he had far to look. He picked up the phone and dialed Sharon’s home. “Sharon. It’s Dan. How about dinner?”
“Admiral Kenneth Sukudo.”
The flight deck officer almost shit his pants as the man before him requested to come aboard. “Granted,” dropped from his mouth as Sukudo walked past and across the flight deck of the USS Toledo. It was the smallest aircraft carrier in the US Navy. It carried mostly reconnaissance aircraft and some F-14s. Each year it was slated to be mothballed, but somehow it was always granted a reprieve. Today it sat at dock in Reykjavik, Iceland. The Toledo was due to leave port and steam home on the morrow, but that would soon change. Sukudo had flown all night to catch the ship before it left.