“I understand. I look forward to hearing from you.”
The line went dead, and Christine exhaled between pursed lips. The elation she’d felt after handing in her resignation had evaporated. She’d been handed a death sentence, to be executed on Kalinin’s last day in office. She searched her memory for details on his term as president, recalling that the next Russian presidential election was less than a year away. A knot formed in her stomach.
7
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
President Kalinin hung up the phone, his eyes going to the man seated on the other side of his desk, who was wearing a disapproving frown. Kalinin addressed Josef Hippchenko, the new director of the SVR, whose meeting with Kalinin this morning had been interrupted by America’s national security advisor.
“Did you direct a visit with O’Connor?” Kalinin asked.
“I may have mentioned it to a subordinate.”
“I believe my order was clear.”
“It was,” Hippchenko admitted. “What’s also clear is the price she must pay. You are only delaying the inevitable. When you step down as president, I — or my successor — will give the order.”
“I will deal with that when the time comes. Until then, you will not harm her.”
“Why do you protect her? You barely know this woman.”
“That’s something I intend to rectify.”
“She killed your defense minister and SVR director, and not only are you going to let her waltz back into our country, you’re going to take her to dinner. If you establish a relationship with her and the public finds out what she did, you’re finished.”
“Then I recommend you ensure they don’t find out.”
Hippchenko chose his words carefully, trying to keep the frustration from bleeding through. “Do you remember one of the first mantras you learned when you joined the SVR? How to obtain leverage against your opponent? When it comes to sex, don’t underestimate a man’s stupidity. Men will risk their marriage, their career, and a lifetime’s reputation for a few minutes of pleasure.”
“I’m not talking about a few minutes of pleasure,” Kalinin replied.
Hippchenko slammed his hand on the president’s desk. “But the outcome will be the same!” He stood. “I will not be part of this folly.”
Kalinin glared at his SVR director. “Sit down.” When Hippchenko remained standing, Kalinin repeated, “Sit down!”
Hippchenko sank into the chair, his gaze locked on Kalinin.
The Russian president stared at Hippchenko for a moment, then pushed back from his desk, retrieving a bottle of cognac and two glasses from the credenza behind him. He placed the glasses on his desk and poured two drinks. He pushed one to Hippchenko. The SVR director took a sip, as did Kalinin.
Hippchenko spoke first. “I know how much you miss Natasha and that Christine somehow fills that void. But it is unwise to pursue a relationship with an American woman.”
“Christine is half Russian.”
“She’s American. She doesn’t even speak Russian.”
“Still,” Kalinin said, “her being half Russian provides an avenue for public approval should our … friendship be discovered. Besides, Russia has a long history of its leaders marrying foreigners. Peter the Great married a Polish-Lithuanian woman, Alexander III married a Dane, and most of the later Russian rulers, including the last tsar, married Germans.”
“The last tsar was executed.”
Kalinin stared at Hippchenko. “Bad example. But I believe I’ve made my point. A relationship with a foreigner would not be unprecedented.”
Hippchenko shrugged. “You are not a tsar, and things are different today. Public opinion is fickle, and it could easily turn against you.”
“I’m not planning on marrying the woman,” Kalinin replied. “I’m interested in a few social visits. Get to know her better. Afterwards, if we decide to pursue a relationship, I’ll reevaluate the matter.”
Hippchenko took another sip as he assessed the situation. “You have many political enemies, and some of them know that Christine killed Chernov and Gorev. They will use that against you if they learn you’ve established an intimate relationship with her. I recommend we keep your friendship with Christine discreet for now.”
“I agree. I’ve invited her to join me at Gelendzhik. I’d like you to make the travel arrangements so her detour to the Black Sea isn’t discovered.”
Hippchenko nodded. “It’s your political future.”
8
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
In his office in the Ministry of Defense headquarters in Moscow’s Arbat District, General Sergei Andropov studied the three men seated on the other side of his desk. Colonel Generals Alexei Volodin and Viktor Glukov, commanders-in-chief of the Aerospace and Ground Forces, respectively, along with Fleet Admiral Oleg Lipovsky, would have to commit their support for Andropov’s plan to succeed. Although he didn’t know how they’d respond, he was confident their discussion today would remain confidential.
The four men shared a common bond. They had dedicated their lives to protecting the Motherland, and all options to achieve that goal were worthy of discussion. Andropov’s plan would not be shared with the new defense minister, however. Andropov didn’t know Nechayev well enough to judge his reaction to today’s proposal, plus Andropov didn’t trust politicians anyway. Only the men who wore the uniform could be trusted to act in Russia’s best interest, unfettered by political ambition or public opinion polls.
With the three officers waiting patiently for Andropov to begin, he launched into his prepared remarks. “The opportunity to demonstrate the Zolotov option occurs in eighteen days. We will then have a long window of opportunity during which the United States, and by extension NATO, will be paralyzed. It will take years for America to undo what we’ve done. By then, the actions we’ll have taken along our border will be ancient history. NATO will realize we pose no threat to Western Europe.”
“The Baltic States will not agree with your assessment,” Admiral Lipovsky said.
“They should not be part of NATO to begin with!” Andropov snapped. “They provide no value to the Alliance, but NATO was eager to add them for the sole purpose of irritating us. Ukraine and Finland have expressed interest in joining NATO, leaving Belarus as our sole ally to the west. NATO will not stop until they have turned all of our neighbors against us. We will then be at the West’s mercy, like we were at the beginning of the Great Patriotic War. Everything we’ve achieved since then will be for naught.”
After none of the three men disagreed with his assertion, Andropov continued. “We are at a crossroads, presented with an opportunity that may not occur again. We’ve spent ten years implementing the Zolotov option, but without demonstrating its capability, we gain nothing from it.”
General Volodin reminded him, “It was supposed to be an insurance policy. It was not meant to be used offensively.”
“Times are different today. Our border security has eroded even further than when the Soviet Union dissolved. We must do something to keep NATO from encroaching on our doorstep. We can no longer leave it to the political whims of our neighbors. Regrettably, we must be more forceful.”
General Glukov replied, “You presented this option to President Kalinin, and he declined to pursue it.”
“Kalinin is weak. Chernov convinced him to proceed last time, but Nechayev is too new, unwilling to guide the president toward the correct answer. That leaves the four of us. We must make the decision for Kalinin.”