Christine spotted her Russian counterpart, National Security Advisor Sergei Ivanov, leaning against a black sedan. Christine was handling the negotiations from the American side due to her assignment as the president’s national security advisor — combined with the experience she’d gained as the director of nuclear defense policy — while Russia defaulted to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which had negotiated New START. Beside Ivanov stood Mark Johnson, Christine’s interpreter for the negotiations, supplied by the American embassy in Moscow.
After exchanging greetings, Christine and Johnson joined Ivanov in the back of his sedan, while the rest of her entourage followed behind in another car. By the time the vehicles pulled up to Hotel National, not far from the Kremlin, darkness had enveloped the Russian capital. While the bellhops collected her luggage, Christine entered the hotel lobby where she was met by Barry Graham, an aide to the U.S. ambassador to Russia. He handed Christine the keycard to her room on the tenth floor.
Weary from the long flight, Christine looked forward to a good night’s sleep. After entering her room and receiving her luggage, she went to draw the curtains, stopping to gaze out the window; her room offered a stunning view of the five palaces and four cathedrals enclosed within the Kremlin walls. After surveying the impressive sight for a moment, she pulled the curtains shut.
Daybreak arrived quicker than Christine had hoped. After stopping for a cup of strong coffee in the lobby, she stepped into an embassy sedan waiting at the hotel entrance. Inside the car was her interpreter, Mark Johnson. The two DSS agents, along with Christine’s aide and nuclear arms expert, followed in an identical car. Moments later, the sedans passed within the six-hundred-year-old Kremlin walls, pulling to a halt in front of the triangular-shaped Kremlin Senate, the Russian version of the White House, with its distinctive green dome.
National Security Advisor Sergei Ivanov was there to greet her again. He escorted Christine and her staff to the third floor of the building, entering a twenty-by-sixty-foot conference room containing a polished ebony table capable of seating thirty persons. As before, on one side of the table sat Maksim Posniak, director of security and disarmament in Russia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, who had negotiated the previous nuclear arms reduction treaty for Russia. Also present was Posniak’s aide, who’d take notes, plus a Russian interpreter, although neither side had needed one for the previous discussions. Posniak’s accent was thick, but his English understandable.
Also waiting in the conference room was Russia’s new minister of defense, Anton Nechayev. The three men at the table rose as Christine entered.
Christine had reviewed Nechayev’s file during the flight. He had a similar background as Chernov, having spent a few years in the Russian Ground Forces. He’d left military service after his first tour and entered politics soon thereafter. Due to an unexpected vacancy in Kalinin’s administration, thanks to Christine, Nechayev had become Russia’s new minister of defense.
Considering she had killed his predecessor, Christine wasn’t sure how to interact with Nechayev. Russia and the United States were technically at war at the time and Christine had simply played her part in the conflict. But that didn’t lessen the gravity of what she’d done. She felt uncomfortable in Nechayev’s presence, and she wondered if he was too. However, if the new defense minister felt awkward, he didn’t let on.
“Welcome back to Moscow, Miss O’Connor. I hope you had a pleasant flight.” He extended his hand, shaking Christine’s firmly, adding a smile. It was as if nothing unusual had occurred during her last trip to Russia.
After a short discussion, Nechayev ended with, “I leave you in Director Posniak’s capable hands. But before I go, I must ask. Will you be attending the state dinner Friday night?”
“Yes,” Christine answered. “Thank you for inviting me. I’d be honored to attend.” The last part was a lie. The state dinner was in honor of Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko.
Since the establishment of Belarus following the dissolution of the Soviet Union, there had been only one president, and Lukashenko’s five-term presidency along with accusations of voter fraud had led some Western journalists to label Belarus “Europe’s last dictatorship.” Then there was Lukashenko’s supportive role in Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, which was undoubtedly the reason for the state dinner.
Christine had considered declining the invitation but decided to follow protocol. The way Russia and the United States were behaving was simultaneously maddening and comforting. Both countries carried on as if nothing unpleasant had recently occurred.
Nechayev and Ivanov departed the conference room.
Christine turned to Posniak as she settled into her chair. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
12
THE BLACK SEA USS MICHIGAN (SSGN 727)
With his submarine at periscope depth, Captain Murray Wilson sat in his chair on the starboard side of the Conn listening to the speaker, which was broadcasting intercepts from the submarine’s Electronic Support Measures sensor. A few feet away, the submarine’s Officer of the Deck circled on the port periscope, scanning the horizon for contacts. This afternoon’s trip toward the surface had been uneventful, and the only scheduled tasks were a radio broadcast download and a satellite position fix for the submarine’s inertial navigators. After the tense battles following Russia’s invasion of Eastern Europe, Wilson welcomed the calm scenario.
During the short but intense conflict with Russia, Wilson had sunk four frigates left behind in the Black Sea, and no surface combatants had returned from the larger battle in the Indian Ocean. However, three of the Black Sea Fleet’s five Kilo class submarines had been spotted heading up the Turkish Straits from the Mediterranean. They were currently in port, getting refitted and rearmed, as had Michigan.
Following the conflict, Michigan had stopped in Guam for a weapons loadout. Fully rearmed, and after being vectored under the polar ice cap into the Barents Sea for a short mission, the formidable guided missile submarine had returned to the Black Sea, taking station on Russia’s southwest border in case President Kalinin got another bright idea.
Although Michigan was built as a ballistic missile submarine, it was a far different ship today than when it was launched three decades ago. With the implementation of the Strategic Offensive Reductions Treaty, the Navy had converted the four oldest Ohio class submarines into guided missile and special warfare platforms. Twenty-two of Michigan’s twenty-four missile tubes had been outfitted with seven-pack Tomahawk launchers, with the remaining two tubes providing access to two Dry Deck Shelters attached to the missile deck. For this deployment, one shelter carried a SEAL Delivery Vehicle — a mini-sub used to transport Navy SEALs miles underwater for clandestine operations — while the other shelter contained two Rigid Hull Inflatable Boats.
During the conversion from ballistic to guided missile submarines, Michigan and her three sister ships had received a slew of tactical system upgrades. The combat control consoles were now the most modern in the submarine fleet, as were Michigan’s new sonar, electronic surveillance, and radio suites. The torpedoes aboard were also the newest in the Navy’s arsenaclass="underline" MK 48 MOD 7 torpedoes, the most advanced heavyweight torpedo in the world. Michigan’s most valuable assets, however, were in the Missile Compartment. Aboard Michigan were two platoons of Navy SEALs, ready should their services be required, along with sixty tons of munitions stored in two of Michigan’s missile tubes: small arms, grenade launchers, limpet mines … anything a SEAL team might need.