It was a statement of fact, a professional acknowledgement of the job at hand. The two officers from Alpha and Vympel needed no further explanation regarding the nature of activity at Aralsk-7 beyond knowing that it posed a threat to Russia’s security.
The reply of their superior hardly came as a surprise to either man.
“The first phase of your mission involves seizing the compound and destroying the opposing terrorist force. Ms. Kasymova’s role is to guide you inside the main building to extract every shred of documentation, every computer and all the equipment that can be transported. Major Sokolov’s role is to deal with any biological hazard you may encounter, as well as keep an eye on Ms. Kasymova in case she has second thoughts about assisting us. Then you will proceed to the airfield north of the complex and await extraction.”
Two new photos were projected on the screen.
“Also, it is highly likely that during the mission you could find these individuals,” Victor continued. “You must eliminate them. Ahmed Sadaev, Chechen extremist involved in several acts of terror including Budennovsk. His partner, Oleg Radchuk, a Ukrainian mercenary notorious for his brutality against hostages.”
The last photo was a carefully-staged, official portrait of a man taking an oath, right hand placed on a ceremonial copy of his country’s constitution.
“And finally, someone you have probably recognized. Timur Kasymov, the President of Kazakhstan,” Victor announced. “I repeat, these targets must be identified and killed on sight.”
3
For Sokolov and Asiyah, the following days consisted of incessant briefings and physical training.
Major Petrov of Directorate V oversaw their drills.
He declared, “I will not allow either of you to be a hindrance to the mission, so you must qualify if you want to wear the uniforms you’ve been issued.”
Qualification equated to passing a series of fitness tests, starting with runs on the track outside the headquarters. A hundred meters in under 12.2 seconds, three kilometers inside eleven minutes, followed by a session in the gym.
None of it was as strenuous for Sokolov as his own karate training regime, but he was impressed with Asiyah’s fitness level. She took on hundreds of push-ups, pull-ups and sit-ups as if her slender body was primed for each exercise, tuned by years of practice. Gracefully feminine, she could still give any Alpha or Vympel man a run for his money in terms of agility and endurance.
Even more impressive was Asiyah’s performance at the shooting range. Reasonably comfortable with firearms, even though he abhorred their use, Sokolov did not fare too well, the grouping of his shots chaotic. Asiyah outclassed him, displaying marksmanship with every weapon Petrov gave her, from various handguns to a Kalashnikov.
As far as briefings were concerned, Sokolov’s active input was limited to assessment of the hazards they would face. The rest of the time, he absorbed the strategy and tactics explained by Grishin to his men, as Sokolov’s role would largely come down to fighting alongside them. Using existing diagrams of Aralsk-7, Asiyah guided them through the layout of the rebuilt compound.
Sokolov noted that the plan shared many similarities with the legendary Operation Storm-333, the assault on Tajbeg Palace, not least because of the common objective to eliminate a foreign president and former ally deep inside Central Asia. Palace was really a misnomer for what Tajbeg truly was — a fortress. A three-storied stone mansion with walls thick enough to deflect artillery rounds. Set atop a forested hill, Amin’s stronghold had been inaccessible, a single road leading to it through minefields, any approach visible from high ground. And yet the Alpha assault team of sixty men had broken inside Tajbeg, overcoming a force that numbered 2,500 guards. The operation had resulted in the death of Hafizullah Amin and loss of five Alpha members, as they seized the palace killing over 200 Afghan soldiers.
The lab complex on Renaissance Island had also been designed to withstand heavy bombing, and the island was now a hill. But compared to the textbook scenario of the Tajbeg Palace, the FSB team could have a key advantage working in their favor. The bulk of the enemy force on Renaissance was concentrated away from the actual installation. The three barracks could be cut off easily. The isolation of the Aral Sea meant little chance of reinforcements arriving.
“What is the composition of the force protecting the complex?” Colonel Grishin asked Asiyah. “I expect we might face a our former brothers in arms, so to speak. Is that correct?”
For a few brief years before the Soviet breakup, the 14th Regional Division of the KGB’s A Group had been located in Alma-Ata, Kazakhstan. After 1991, Kazakh President Nazarbayev had transformed the unit to act as his personal bodyguards, forcing the Russian majority of the Alpha servicemen out of the country. Renamed “Arystan”—or “Lion”—the Kazakh A Group had been given over to the KNB. Decades later, the FSB Special Purpose Center and the Kazakh presidential detail had very little in common, save for the initials in their names — but they shared their history and their roots, and the prospect of meeting each other in battle was a touch perverse.
“I don’t believe so,” Asiyah replied. “My father tasked the Lion team with protecting his residence in Astana. The security force in Aralsk-7 is made up of an entirely different contingent of troops, fanatically devoted to him alone.”
“What contingent is it?” Grishin inquired.
“Militants. Radical Islamists.”
The colonel frowned. “Haven’t we seen enough of that scum already.”
“They go through terrorist camps set up all over the country,” Asiyah continued. “Expertly trained in hand-to-hand combat, assassination and guerrilla warfare. Above all, they’ve been conditioned to sacrifice their lives for Timur Kasymov’s cause. They wear black bandannas and call themselves batyr after the Kazakh medieval warriors.”
“How are they recruited?” Sokolov asked. “Are they all from Kazakhstan?”
“Most are ethnic Kazakhs, yes, but not necessarily. I also saw Russians and Ukrainians, and Chechen instructors at the camps. But the biggest source of new trainees comes from orphanages.”
“Orphanages?” Grishin repeated.
“Children are easy to recruit, indoctrinate and force into combat. The Batyr units are made up of graduates aged sixteen, but some fighters are as young as fourteen. Those in the camps are even younger. Around eleven or twelve, boys and girls.”
Sokolov muttered a curse under his breath.
“It shouldn’t come as a surprise,” Asiyah said bitterly. “The use of children is not my father’s unique invention. It’s widespread all over the world, especially in Africa and Asia. In fact, Ahmed Sadaev brought this practice over from Chechnya, where he saw such units fight the Russians. It’s barbaric, yes. But then again, some countries pretend to be civilized when they turn eighteen-year-old kids into cannon fodder. Is there really a difference?”
“And they are actually guarding Renaissance Island?” Grishin asked.
The real question is, Sokolov thought gritting his teeth, are we actually going to kill children?
“Yes,” Asiyah said. “No fewer than a hundred are on duty at Aralsk-7 at any time, but the functioning barracks can accommodate two or three hundred.”
“Have you actually seen any of them in action?” Petrov asked.
“More often than you may think, believe me. I acquired my combat skills in one of those camps. In fact, I was among the top graduates.”
4
Before the departure, Sokolov prayed and lit a candle at the unusual chapel of the FSB Special Purpose Center. It was called St. George’s Church, built to honor the memory of the Alpha and Vympel men who had died on the battlefield, forty-five in all, their names engraved on a granite monument. Ten names from that list belonged to the men killed in Beslan, caught in the crossfire between the terrorists and the Russian 58th Army tanks that hit the school.