Growing tensions between the first couple bothered Oleg deeply. He and Marina were invited to the official residence less and less often. His mother-in-law, Yulia, rarely traveled with her husband anymore. Indeed, Oleg couldn’t help but feel guilty that the surge in his own travels with the president was somehow responsible for the dramatic decline in the first lady’s. When Yulia came to visit her grandson, she was more often than not alone with her security detail. She didn’t say anything about her marital troubles, of course. Certainly not to Oleg. Perhaps she confided in Marina. But Oleg felt it too sensitive a topic to ask Marina about. So he said nothing, but he was not blind. He could see that the family strains were growing deeper. Remembering Yulia’s sourness at Vasily’s baptism, he suspected things had been going south for some time.
What unsettled Oleg most of all, however, were the lies he saw the president communicate to his most senior advisors. The man was playing a dangerous double game with most of his cabinet, ordering them to pursue various foreign policies in various regions of the world while he was independently pursuing policies that were in direct contradiction. Wouldn’t all this catch up to him one day?
31
MOSCOW—AUGUST 2013
Oleg was already fearful about the president’s plans.
But a late-afternoon meeting in the Kremlin when Iran’s new president arrived for a state visit turned out to be downright terrifying.
“Welcome, my friend; you have journeyed a long distance,” Luganov said upon receiving the Persian leader in his flowing robes and Islamic headdress. “How can I be of service to the people of Iran?”
“Your Excellency, you are too kind,” came the reply, “especially to receive me on such short notice.”
Luganov nodded.
“The supreme leader has asked me to express that he is most grateful for your growing and deepening alliance with the Islamic Republic of Iran,” the Iranian president explained. “You have already done, and continue to do, so much for us—building the reactor in Bushehr, sending us technicians to get the reactor up and running, selling us the newest and most advanced weapons systems, providing political cover for us at the U.N., thwarting all the sinister tricks the Americans and the Zionists are trying to play.”
Luganov nodded again but said nothing.
“These are such beneficent and generous gifts,” the Iranian leader continued. “They are acts of kindness deeply appreciated at every level of our society and government.”
Luganov’s icy-blue eyes bored into the bearded Iranian leader, but he did not shift in his seat. He did not stir. He remained impassive, sitting at an angle, leaning back slightly to the right, his legs spread, yet every muscle tensed, like a mountain lion feigning rest but ready to pounce when his prey least expected it.
Oleg had seen this posture in countless meetings over the years. At first it had not bothered him. In the beginning of his service at the Kremlin, Oleg had thought Luganov was simply disinterested with the petty, pathetic problems of the guests who streamed through this ornate office. But in time Oleg realized this was not disinterest. In truth, Luganov was intensely interested in every thought and every comment of every mayor and president and prime minister and king who walked into his domain. He was an expert at lulling friend and foe alike into a false sense of ease, but in so doing he was watching for signs of weakness, probing for insecurities and areas of vulnerability.
As for Oleg himself, his eyes no longer darted around the room as they did the first time he’d entered Luganov’s lair. He no longer studied the arched ceiling and crystal chandelier and the glass-enclosed bookshelves and the flags. He knew this room. He knew this man. That’s why he could not risk losing his focus. Despite the fact that it was the middle of a warm afternoon in August, despite the fact that the man from Tehran was droning endlessly on, despite the fact that the cup of tea on the end table beside Oleg was empty and that he was beginning to feel drowsy, he reminded himself that he needed to maintain optimum discipline.
The Iranian leader shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “In light of all these acts of brotherhood and unity, the supreme leader has asked me to visit you and express a sense of urgency about two requests we are hesitant to put forward but about which we believe we have no other choice.”
“Please, go on,” Luganov said, evincing no fatigue whatsoever.
The Persian cleared his throat. “The first matter is the supreme leader’s outstanding invitation for you to come to Tehran for a state visit. I want to assure you, Mr. President, this visit would greatly honor our people and send a powerful message to our enemies around the world that our alliance with Moscow is strong and enduring.”
Luganov gave no reply.
“Yes, well, Your Excellency, I have… rather, I was hoping to discuss… well, another matter too.”
Luganov waited.
“This concerns… well, the S-400.”
At this, Oleg looked up from his notes. Even Luganov seemed to stiffen.
“The supreme leader understands, of course, that this is your most advanced surface-to-air missile system,” the Iranian hastened to add, appearing almost embarrassed. “But I have come because the supreme leader believes we need it. And we need it quickly.”
“Why quickly?” Luganov asked.
“I believe you know why, Your Excellency.”
The tactic was a mistake, Oleg knew from experience. But he kept his head down and stayed focused on his shorthand, transcribing every word of the conversation.
“Enlighten me,” Luganov said.
“The Zionists, sir,” the Persian replied.
“What about them?”
“We believe the Israeli prime minister is actively considering an air strike.”
“I was just with him,” Luganov said. “You are mistaken.”
“Perhaps, Your Excellency. But we have reason to believe the Zionists are planning to attack the reactor at Bushehr—and ultimately all of our other nuclear research and development sites—before they become fully operational.”
During his years of working for his father-in-law, Oleg had seen Luganov interact with dozens of world leaders, including Russia’s most important client states. But he had never seen anyone pursue military hardware more brazenly than the Iranians. They were as shameless as they were relentless. Now they wanted to buy a billion-dollar missile system—arguably the most sophisticated system in Moscow’s arsenal—with hard, cold cash, because they believed the Israelis were poised to attack their nuclear facilities before they could build the Bomb. They were asking even though they knew the Israeli government had promised Luganov they would not launch a preemptive strike in the next eighteen months unless Iran installed an air-defense system that would make a future air strike nearly impossible. Thus, by asking for the S-400 system, the Iranians were actually accelerating any timetable the Israelis might have for hitting Iran’s nuclear facilities.
Oleg did his best not to laugh out loud as he waited for Luganov to dismiss such an audacious and impertinent request. Oleg had seen it happen before. Leaders would come to this office and overreach—sometimes by a little, often by a lot. Either way, Luganov would slap them down. The leaders would apologize profusely and change the subject, and all would be forgotten. Oleg fully expected it to happen again, but to his astonishment it did not. To the contrary, for the better part of the next ninety minutes, he watched as Luganov and the Iranian president negotiated a deal for Moscow to sell Tehran the S-400 system, a simultaneous deal for Iran to purchase North Korean nuclear testing data via Moscow, and a plan for Luganov to make his first state visit to Tehran. Oleg faithfully transcribed every facet of the negotiations, though with each passing minute, his horror grew. They were planning to set the Middle East on fire.