Authors: Don Brown
There was a pause.
"
Kapitan
, we have an Egyptian freighter out here in the sea lanes near our certain course from Sochi to Odessa. We are not yet at the rendezvous point. That is true. But this is a perfect interception point in the sea. It is as if they have stopped in the water and are waiting for us. My guess is that they are waiting for us to signal first. I think we should. There is too much money on the line to pass this opportunity. If we are wrong, the signal will be unintelligible gibberish. Leave the crates below until later.
"But kill the girl now. We cannot afford to have her as a witness.
Kapitan
, there is too much money on the line."
Dear Jesus!
Masha prayed.
What is happening?
"I've decided to kill the girl later. We will need her to contain the little piglets roaming on the deck until just before we turn them over to the president of Ukraine. It doesn't matter what she witnesses. She can't tell anybody right now about it anyway."
"But,
Kapitan
. . ."
"The decision is made. I will kill her later. But I agree with you on the rest. I will send the code now and we shall see what happens."
Masha wanted to run.
But where?
Was the outside of Batsakov's stateroom guarded? He had left in a hurry. Maybe he had not posted a guard outside or bothered to give any instructions. Could she hide with her children somewhere in the bowels of the ship and escape when they reached land?
Batsakov's voice over the intercom interrupted her thoughts. "This is the captain of the
Alexander Popovich.
Now hear this. Peter the Great! Again I say, Peter the Great!"
Office of the president of the Russian Republic
Staraya Square, Moscow
Comrade President, the defense minister is here, sir. He says it is urgent that he see you."
President Evtimov leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and exchanged irritated glances with his foreign minister and his chief of staff.
Despite the words of support that each had given him in favor of the defense minister, Evtimov wanted to strangle Giorgy Alexeevich Pop-kov. Popkov's excuse-making was pathetic. The Army lost the nuclear fuel, and Popkov was in charge of the Army. Procedures and safeguards should have been in place to prevent this, especially near Chechnya. The fact that the Americans were also sloppy wasn't good enough.
"Send him in, " Evtimov growled at his secretary.
The defense minister, a short man in his late fifties, in a charcoal-grey suit with silver hair and jet-black eyebrows, stormed into the president's office flailing his hands. "I am afraid I have disturbing news."
"What, Giorgy Alexeevich? The Chechens have already made a bomb with our plutonium?"
"NATO is deploying forces to northeastern Turkey, Comrade President."
"What?" Evtimov felt as if he had been punched in the face. "What's behind all this?"
"The Turkish president has made this request. He apparently believes that our buildup in Chechnya is not defensive in nature, and that we may be planning to cross into Georgia and then Turkey."
"Americans, " Evtimov snorted.
"You think the Americans are behind this request?" the foreign affairs minister asked.
"Of course, " the president retorted. "Who else would engineer such paranoia for the sake of finding an excuse for a military buildup? Just like Vietnam, Korea, Panama, Grenada, and Iraq, and every other country where they've tried to station their military ever since the Great War. Mack Williams is like all American presidents -- a power-hungry cowboy."
The defense minister nodded, as if relieved to find a topic of common ground with the president. "As a matter of fact, Comrade President, the Americans did endorse the Turkish request to NATO."
"Of course they
endorsed
it." Evtimov made quotation marks with his fingers
.
"They endorsed it after they concocted the idea behind the scenes. Typical Yankee foreign policy. I know the Americans well, Giorgy Alexeevich."
"And the British have signed onto it as well, " Defense Minister Pop-kov added this almost as an insignificant afterthought.
"Obsequious sycophants, " Evtimov said.
The defense minister sat up a bit straighter, smirking with a tad more satisfaction. "The president of Georgia has also contacted NATO to request air support."
"Air support?" Evtimov unleashed a profanity-laced tirade. Nothing infuriated the Russian president more than the West flirting with nations of the former Soviet Union. "And I suppose the Americans have
endorsed
this request also."
"Comrade President, American F-16s and British Tornados are already flying close air support over northern Georgia. They are twenty miles from our forces, even as we speak. Our tanks are within range of their Sidewinder missiles."
"Bloodthirsty capitalists, " Evtimov fumed.
"Not only that, " the defense minister added, "but two Delta II rockets were launched from their base in California. Probably satellites for additional command-and-control of military operations."
Vitaly Evtimov's Slavic blood expanded the veins in his neck and temples.
"Comrade President, " the foreign affairs minister spoke up.
"Not now, Alexander Alexeyvich!" Evtimov waved his foreign affairs minister off, stood again, and, turning from the small group of advisors, gazed out through the windows behind his desk overlooking 4 Staraya Square.
Pedestrians crossed the streets and sidewalks; businessmen carried suitcases. Some women were in business suits and others carried children on their backs like papooses.
From this vantage point, Moscow gave the appearance of vibrancy. And if one didn't know better, the grand city in many ways resembled the way she looked when she was the capital of the greatest nation on earth.
What had become of the great Soviet nation?
What had gone wrong?
The disintegration of the Soviet Union was the greatest blow to the once-proud Russian bear.
Ukraine had left, although now, with the election of President Butrin and the declining popularity of the Americans, Evtimov saw an opening for reconciliation at the upcoming summit in Odessa on orphanages. Russia would offer Ukraine considerable money for its orphanages, against a perfect political backdrop of the twelve Ukrainian orphans arriving on the Russian freighter.
But now, just as progress was possible with Ukraine, the Americans and their cronies were after Georgia!
Would Vitaly Sergeivich Evtimov go down as the Russian president that finally lost Georgia to NATO and the west? Never over the grave of Lenin would he watch this happen!
He turned to his advisors. "Gentlemen, the Slavic blood of the Russian people make us the strongest people on the earth!" He slammed his palm on his desk. "The most militant dictators in human history could not conquer us. Napoleon and Hitler tried and failed. And we will
not
be intimidated by, nor will we ignore this American buildup on our doorsteps!" He eyed every man in the room. "I am ordering full mobilization of our forces!"
"But, Comrade President, " the foreign affairs minister spoke up again.
This time, Evtimov decided to let the minister speak. "What is it, Alexander Alexeyvich?"
"This buildup of opposing forces on the Georgin-Chechen border exacerbates the great risk that an accidental shot might be fired, which could lead to all-out war."
"Your point?"
"All this goes back to that stolen plutonium. Why not tell the Americans and the Turks what happened, and explain to them that we have stepped up our forces to locate the plutonium
and
to destroy the Chechen rebels' capacity to build a nuclear bomb?"
"And admit that our military forces are incompetent?" Evtimov glared at his defense minister. "Chechnya is
our
territory. Chechnya is none of their business. Do you really believe that the Americans would not mobilize if we sent our most elite airborne divisions to the northern Mexican border, across the river from Texas?"
No answer.
The moment called for decisive leadership.
"My order stands. Call up all reserves. Order the full mobilization of all Russian forces. Bring three more divisions to the Chechen-Georgian border to counter the American threat."
The White House
President Mack Williams had long since doffed the navy blue pinstripe jacket and was now crossing his arms, rocking back in his chair behind the huge cherry desk. The verbal salvos between his secretaries of state and defense were escalating.
"This whole idea of moving the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions so close to the Russian buildup is too risky, Mr. President, " the secretary of state pleaded. "The region is a powder keg. We've already got this secret plan to sneak our sub into the Black Sea and sink their freighter. Now this." The secretary of state chopped his hand in the air. "Now the Russians are mobilizing more forces. That's thousands of troops staring down gun barrels at point-blank range.
"One spark and you've got war. Please, call them back, Mr. President, or at least position them in southern Turkey, sir. And there's no legitimate reason for U.S. Air Force jets to fly over Georgia, sir. Georgia's
not
a NATO member yet."
Mack looked at his secretary of defense.
"But they've
applied
for membership, " Secretary of Defense Lopez shot back. "And we should allow overflights because Turkey
is
a NATO member and they've requested our presence. Either NATO means something or it doesn't. Plus, with the public relations beating we've taken over the Dome of the Rock fiasco, we need all the goodwill we can muster." Seretary Lopez wagged his finger, but pointed it at no one in particular. "Not only that, but both the Bush Administration and this administration have endorsed the request from Georgia to join NATO. Plus, I remind my friend the secretary of state that the 82nd and 101st are being deployed to Turkey, not Georgia. The Russians are in Chechnya, not Georgia. So it isn't like our troops are on the Russian border."
"Oh, come on, " Secretary Mauney said. "Georgia's such a tiny nation that there's no significant geographic barrier. What? Fifty to a hundred miles at the most?" Mauney looked at Mack. "Mr. President, rather than risk war, why not just tell the Turks that the Russians are looking for plutonium, that they don't have to worry about a border incursion, and that our buildup is unnecessary?"
A smooth feminine voice joined the fray. "But what if we're wrong in our assumptions, Mr. Secretary?" Cynthia Hewitt, Mack's national security advisor, asked. "Suppose this buildup has more than one purpose?"
"Explain, Cyndi, " Mack said.
"Suppose the buildup has a
dual
purpose -- to find the plutonium
and
to invade Georgia to bring it back in the Russian fold?"
"Ridiculous, " Mauney quipped.
"Is it?" the sandy-haired Hewitt retorted. "We know Evtimov's staunch opposition against Georgian NATO membership. Their intelligence is notoriously shoddy. Maybe they believe the plutonium is in Georgia and use that as a
pretext
for an invasion."
"Impossible, " Mauney said. "We've concluded that the plutonium is somewhere on the high seas."
"We know that. The Russians don't know it, " Secretary Lopez retorted.
"Well, then why not just tell the Russians what we think, Mr. President? Why not just tell them we think the plutonium is on this freighter somewhere in the Black Sea? Let me open a dialogue with Foreign Minister Kotenkov. We can seek a
joint
solution on finding this plutonium. Give diplomacy a chance, sir. Just tell them that the plutonium is on the
Alexander Popovich
and perhaps they can board it, find the plutonium, and all sides can stand down before someone sets off a thermonuclear device."
"The reason we can't just do that, Mr. Secretary" -- the secretary of defense responded in a slow cadence -- "is this. What if the Russians don't buy it? What if they claim that their intelligence is better than ours? Suppose they refuse to board or inspect the freighter? If they take that position, then if and when we sink that freighter, the whole world,
including
the Russians, will know who did it. And if you want a war, Mr. Secretary" -- the secretary of defense turned and looked directly at the secretary of state -- "just let it get out that we torpedoed one of their unarmed civilian freighters. Remember the
Lusitania
?"
The British liner
Lusitania
was torpedoed by German U-Boats in 1915, helping bring the U.S. into World War I.
"And don't forget this. The skipper of the
Alexander Popovich
has sold his ship's ser vices to terrorists. It must be sunk, even if it isn't carrying that plutonium."
"But --, " Mauney interjected.
"Let me finish, please." Lopez erected his index finger from a balled fist, as if lecturing a classroom full of high school students. "If we tell the Russians what we are thinking, they will demand to know
how
we know. And whether we reveal our sources or not, we risk exposing our intelligence sources on the ground. We have undercover operatives whose lives would be at risk in the entire country."