“What is your plan?” Glukov asked.
“We will demonstrate the Zolotov option, then secure our borders. The Zapad war games have been scheduled to coincide with this opportunity, providing over one hundred thousand mobilized troops that can immediately pivot to the west. NATO generals will still be drinking their morning coffee by the time we’ve seized our objectives, and additional Russian forces will flow into the seized territories within forty-eight hours. With the Zolotov option preventing the United States from interfering, NATO will have no choice but to cede the territory.”
Volodin replied, “You do not have a Zolotov controller. There are only ten units and they are tightly controlled, manned twenty-four hours a day. Not even I have access.”
“I’ve made the necessary arrangements,” Andropov said. “I will have a control unit by the required time.”
General Glukov said, “You’re proposing we execute the plan without Kalinin’s authorization? You’re proposing a coup?”
“Not exactly,” Andropov said. “We will merely make a few decisions for Kalinin, until the matter is beyond his control.”
The three men displayed no emotion as they processed Andropov’s proposal and its implications. If they succeeded, they’d stabilize Russia’s deteriorating security posture, restoring the crucial buffer zone to the west. If they failed, they’d all go to prison.
Finally, Glukov responded. “I cannot commit to this today. I need time to assess.”
The other two men nodded their agreement.
“I understand,” Andropov said. “You have two weeks to decide.”
9
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Seated in the Oval Office between Chief of Staff Kevin Hardison and a staffer from the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, Christine awaited her turn during the president’s national security brief. As the daily intelligence highlights were provided, her thoughts occasionally fast-forwarded to the last topic on today’s agenda, the nuclear arms reduction treaty with Russia and the related personal matter — Kalinin’s request she join him for the weekend afterward.
The intelligence staffer departed and Christine delivered her morning update, finishing with a reminder. “I head to Moscow in two weeks for the next round of nuclear arms reduction negotiations. If things go well, we should be able to agree on the remaining terms.”
“I look forward to reviewing the final document,” the president said. “Anything else?”
Christine preferred that Hardison not be present when she discussed the final issue; she was certain he’d find some way to use it against her. But Hardison would find out soon enough, so she proceeded.
“President Kalinin has invited me to join him at Gelendzhik after my next trip to Moscow.”
The president leaned back in his chair, a grin on his face. “Cavorting with the enemy?”
“Not exactly,” Christine replied, failing to see the humor in the situation. “He’s asked me to join him for the weekend twice before and I declined both times. He made it clear this was his final request.”
Hardison turned to Christine. “All this time in Moscow, I thought you were slacking off. It turns out you were working overtime.”
Christine overrode the urge to slap him, delivering an icy stare instead.
“You’re taking Kalinin up on his offer this time?” the president asked.
“I haven’t decided,” Christine replied, turning her attention back to the president. “I wanted to run it by legal first to make sure there isn’t a prohibition.”
“Yes, of course,” the president said. “I’ll have Hardison run it past Brooks. I think you’re fine, though. A social visit with Kalinin after you wrap things up in Moscow is well within the bounds of propriety. I’ve met Russian dignitaries at Camp David before. It’s a fair quid pro quo.”
When the president mentioned quid pro quo, Christine’s stomach tightened, recalling the death sentence the SVR agent had delivered. She considered bringing that topic up but decided otherwise. She had a year to sort through that issue.
10
SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA
In a sparsely populated parking garage on the outskirts of San Jose’s Japantown, Keith Vierling waited nervously in his car. As directed, he had parked on the fourth level, devoid of other vehicles at this time of night, overlooking the Guadalupe Freeway. A pair of headlights appeared in his rearview mirror, stopping after climbing the third-floor ramp. A moment later, the car moved slowly toward him.
Vierling glanced at the briefcase on the backseat. Over the past few years, he’d delivered ten identical units per the original contract. A few days ago, an eleventh unit was requested, along with a rapid delivery. Vierling had finished assembling the components this afternoon.
A black sedan parked beside him and the driver stepped out. Vierling’s passenger door opened and the man slid inside. He went by “Ed Sutton,” although Vierling was certain it wasn’t his real name. Vierling never bothered to research the issue; it wasn’t like Sutton paid by check. Since their agreement ten years ago, Vierling had scheduled several trips to Vegas each year, returning noticeably richer each time.
Sutton looked over his shoulder, examining the briefcase. “Same design as the others?”
Vierling nodded. “Same operating procedures too. I’ve included a set of instructions inside this unit as well.”
Sutton reached back and retrieved the briefcase, opening it on his lap. After inspecting the components inside, he asked, “Is there a range limitation?”
“No,” Vierling replied, trying to not sound irritated. He’d just told him the unit was identical to the previous ones, and the contract was clear: Operable from anywhere on the planet. “The signal gets routed through several satellite networks, so it’ll work anywhere.” Vierling added, “As a reminder, once you activate the algorithms, it cannot be undone.”
The man glanced at Vierling.
Vierling held his hands up. “Hey, that’s what you guys ordered. I just want to make sure you don’t forget.”
Sutton closed the briefcase. “We are aware.”
He opened the car door and Vierling grabbed the man’s forearm. Sutton stopped and slowly turned his head toward Vierling, who quickly released his grip.
“What about compensation?” Vierling asked. “This is an extra unit, not part of the original deal.”
“You will receive a ten percent bonus. Pick it up via the usual process, anytime within the next year.”
Without waiting for a response, Sutton stepped from Vierling’s car. A moment later, his sedan disappeared down the parking garage ramp. Vierling took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He had fulfilled his part of the deal and then some. He hoped he never saw Ed Sutton again.
11
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
Christine O’Connor peered out the window of the C-32 executive transport, the military version of Boeing’s 757. Designated Air Force One when the president was aboard or Air Force Two when the vice president was being flown, it had no designation today, since it was transporting Christine to Moscow. Before departing Washington, D.C., she had accepted Kalinin’s offer to join him at his summer residence on the shore of the Black Sea. Kalinin had been pleased, and he’d requested she add a stop in Bucharest during her return trip. Transportation to Gelendzhik would be arranged from there. Christine had an inkling as to why she wasn’t heading directly to the Black Sea from Moscow, but Kalinin didn’t elaborate.
The C-32 began its descent, passing through the clouds to reveal a sprawling metropolis — the capital of the Russian Federation and home to twelve million. The aircraft touched down at Moscow’s Vnukovo International Airport, and Christine descended the staircase onto the tarmac. She was preceded by two Diplomatic Security Service agents and followed by her aide, plus a subject matter expert who would assist with the more detailed aspects of the nuclear arms reduction treaty as it neared its final version.