“Da, gospodin prezident?”
“Get Dolinski in here.”
Minutes later, after a quick knock on the door, his prime minister entered.
“Dolinski, tell me you have a defense minister.”
Dolinski kept his head lowered, eyes fixated on the floor.
“Gospodin prezident, I have a couple of names you might want to consider.”
“Like whom?”
“General Sokol would be a good fit. He’s old guard, a hardliner, combative.”
“He’s a hundred years old, for fuck’s sake, Dolinski, what the hell? I need someone who’s going to live long enough to make things happen. Someone who can still think of war, want a war, start a war.”
“Then General Chaplinski would be great. He’s only sixty years old, very determined, a great leader.”
“Do you think Chaplinski shares my vision? In his heart? Or just does it lip service? Is he a communist or United Russia?”
United Russia had become the leading political party after the fall of communism. It was non-ideological in nature, a party uniting all the politically disoriented survivors of almost a century of communism. But as a member and former leader of United Russia, Abramovich knew that anyone could function under the colors of United Russia and have their own hidden agendas.
“He’s United Russia. Did you want a communist for defense minister? How would the world see that?”
“Fuck the world, Dolinski, I don’t care about what they see and don’t see. This is about making Russia great again, not about impressing the fucking West. The West can go to hell, and if I can help make that happen, I will. Stop trying to kiss the West ass, Dolinski. Do you still have the balls to do your job? Or has it castrated you already, left you impotent?”
Abramovich’s voice had reached thunderous levels, his anger taking over. He gulped the remaining vodka and slammed the empty glass on his desk.
“N — no, sir,” an intimidated Dolinski managed to utter.
“I’m surrounded by impotents.” Abramovich continued to pontificate from the bottom of his lungs. “No one has the guts to help me get back what’s ours, what has always been ours. Where are the great men of Russia? Where are the fearless leaders of tomorrow, our brave generals? Doesn’t anyone have what it takes to get me results? To think and plan great things? Who’s been handling defense since Dimitrov retired, and what have they accomplished?”
“Umm… I worked with Generals Chaplinski and Sokol to keep things in motion until we name a new defense minister.”
“Is that what you think this country needs? Keeping things in motion?”
“We continued to execute the plan set by Minister Dimitrov before he retired. The readiness for engagement, the incursions outside the national territories, even Division Seven.”
“How’s our readiness?” Abramovich’s tone dropped to almost normal levels.
“It’s going according to plan. We’ve restored to 100 percent readiness all our missile sites, nuclear submarines, and military jets. We’ve conducted exercises and assessed the readiness levels of our ground forces. We’ve taken an updated inventory of our arsenals and started research and production on every item we still need. We estimate that by midsummer we will have all our arsenals replenished as per the former minister’s plan.”
Abramovich started pacing again, slowly, pensively.
“Get me more,” he said after a few seconds. “Get me more than what the plan called for. Revise the plan and bring it to me for review. I know START limits our arsenal counts, but I want to have bigger nukes, new planes, more powerful nuclear submarines. Double the fleet of Borei submarines, get rid of all the junk. And authorize more funds for nuclear research. Put all of that in your plan.”
“Umm… how about funding? We’re running out of funding for defense. With the sanctions, it’s been hard.”
“Fuck the sanctions. Take from somewhere else. Social security, education, health, I don’t care. Raise some taxes. Just make it happen.”
“Yes, gospodin prezident.”
Abramovich dismissed Dolinski with a wave of his hand, and Dolinski disappeared, closing the door quietly behind him.
Dolinski might be able to pull it off, but he still needed a good defense minister. No, he needed a great one.
…5
The day held several firsts for Henri. Her first time at the White House. Her first time going anywhere with Director Seiden. Her first time in the same room with the president. She hoped she’d rise to the occasion and make Seiden proud.
“We should get started shortly,” Seiden said, “we’re his first agenda item. That always helps.”
She nodded, not sure what to say. Seiden read right through her self-imposed calm.
“You’ll do fine. Just remember what we discussed. Keep it short and clear, no speculation. Short phrases, minimum words, keep it simple. And it’s OK to say that you’ll have an answer in a few days if you’re not sure about something.”
“Uh-uh, yes, sir,” she confirmed.
“This is a briefing, not a brainstorming session. Only confirmed facts and finalized analyses, got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You can take your seats in the conference room now,” a staffer said, and showed them the way. “Would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water?”
“Thank you, we’re good,” Seiden replied for both of them.
An assistant took a seat at the remote part of the table, getting ready to take notes.
President Krassner entered, followed closely by two of his advisors.
Brief introductions identified General Foster, the president’s military advisor, a tall, proud man in uniform, with his chest covered in decorations, and Norbert Purvis, the national security advisor, who looked more like a businessman than a politician.
“Good morning, everyone,” Krassner said, “let’s hear it.”
Going straight to the point, Doug Krassner was exactly how Henri thought he’d be, after seeing him on television on numerous occasions. Krassner had the reputation to be a smart, open-minded, and gutsy leader, willing to go a little differently about things and break some molds if that meant progress.
“Mr. President,” Seiden greeted him with deference, “thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
“What’s on your mind, director?”
“This, sir,” Seiden said, pushing slightly forward Henri’s report, bound nicely in report covers bearing the CIA insignia in gold emboss.
“I flipped through some pages,” Krassner said, “makes for a very interesting read. So… we’ve entered Cold War two dot zero, huh? Great way to start my presidency.” Krassner smiled, an open smile not in the least bitter.
“Two dot zero, sir?” Seiden asked.
“My technology advisor said the new Cold War will involve technology way more than we’d anticipated. He came up with Cold War 2.0 instead of Cold War II, and it stuck.”
Everyone chuckled lightly.
Krassner cleared his throat quietly. “OK, let’s get started. What do you think this means?” He pointed at the report.
“War, sir,” Seiden replied. “Maybe not now, not this year, but definitely going toward war. Crimea might have been the trigger for a chain of events leading to global conflagration.”
“Can Russia go to war with the entire Western world? NATO is a powerful alliance.”
“My analyst suggested that we shouldn’t think of Russia in the traditional way, as planning to go to war directly and amassing thousands of tanks and troops in a direct, open invasion. Marino and her team think this war will be different, based on the profile they’ve built for President Abramovich and his actions to date.”