by Alex Lukeman
"We've had our differences, you and I. But there was always one thing we had in common."
"What's that?"
"We are both patriots. We both believe in the Motherland. Insects like Orlov may come and go but it is people like you and I who make sure that Russia endures. Why do you think I've ended up here? Because of my sexual preferences? Because of corruption?"
"There is evidence."
"False evidence. But of course it will look real enough."
"There are pictures of you and your aide in bed together."
"False."
"If there is something you have to tell me, you had better do it now," Alexei said. "Save your denials for your trial."
Vishinski gave Alexei a hard look. "Orlov is getting ready to start a war that will destroy us. But it's not him who is leading us into the fire. He's being manipulated by Golovkin."
Golovkin! "Go on."
"Golovkin has been moving money into accounts under Orlov's control. A lot of money. Much of it has been used to speed up modernization of our military. He's encouraging Orlov to begin a war with the West. We both know that we can't win such an encounter."
"Where's the money coming from?"
"From the West. I traced it to a bank in Germany. Golovkin found out that I was looking into his affairs." Vishinski waved his hand at the cell. "This is the result."
"I have only your word that this is true," Alexei said.
"Have you moved into my old office?"
"What of it?"
"There's a bookcase there. Are the books still in place?"
"Yes."
"There is a copy of War and Peace on the third shelf. Look inside the book. On page 386 is a short notation of letters and numbers. Access the restricted section on your computer and search for them. It will bring up a file with the proof you need. I was about to move on Golovkin when I was arrested."
"If what you say is true I will find a way to get you out of here," Alexei said.
"You must be very careful, Alexei. If Golovkin suspects you are looking into his activities you will join me in this fine hotel."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Do you have a cigarette?"
Alexei reached under his tunic and withdrew a package of Golden Fleece cigarettes. The cigarettes were a nostalgic revival of a brand wildly popular during the Soviet era. He handed the packet to Vishinski, along with a small box of matches.
"Spasibo," Vishinski said.
Alexei banged on the metal door with his fist.
"I will visit you again. After I have confirmed what you told me."
The guard opened the door. Alexei stepped out into the hall and the cell door boomed shut behind him, a harsh, metallic sound that sent echoes down the hallway.
Alexei returned to SVR headquarters and went straight to the bookcase. He hadn't paid much attention to it. Since he'd moved into Vishinski's old office he'd been too busy with his new responsibilities to think about changing the furniture, with the exception of bringing in Beria's desk.
The copy of War and Peace was on the third shelf as Vishinski had said. Alexei had read Tolstoy's epic as a young man but remembered little of the story. He turned to page 386. Penciled on the side of the page was a series of numbers and letters. Alexei took the book over to his desk and sat down in front of his computer. He entered the password that allowed him into the restricted area reserved for the director and entered the coded string. Vishinski's hidden file appeared on the screen. Alexei began reading.
Half an hour later he closed the file and reached for the vodka in his desk drawer. He poured a drink and thought about what he'd just learned. Vishinski had been thorough. He had identified a German named Kepler as the source of money used to boost Orlov into power and purchase new equipment for the military. The large transfers were broken into manageable sums and concealed in false accounts. Golovkin had siphoned off millions of euros into a personal account in a Swiss Bank. That was enough to arrest him but Alexei knew it wasn't going to be that easy.
He's corrupt. I never suspected him of corruption. Arrogance and ambition but not corruption.
Corruption had always been part of Russian life. But this was corruption on a different level, operatic in scale.
Why? Alexei asked himself. Why would this Kepler give Golovkin control of so much money?
There was only one way to find out. He couldn't very well ask Golovkin to explain. The only other person who would know was Kepler. The man had to be interrogated. Vishinski's file noted that Kepler was a recluse, an invalid who lived in a guarded compound near Leipzig. A man that wealthy was certain to have the best kind of security. It would be difficult to get to him.
He would send Valentina.
CHAPTER 39
Jaques Dupree followed the team out of the city. They drove to an exclusive enclave some distance from town and stopped on a street dominated by a large mansion. Satisfied his prey had reached their destination, Dupree parked where he could see his targets when they left. He'd decided to eliminate them when they were away from the hotel. Like now, when they were all together in their vehicle. There was a long stretch of highway between here and the city that was perfect for the ambush.
A Heckler and Koch MP7 lay on the seat next to him, hidden under a blanket. The weapon was compact and efficient, an upgrade to the aging MP5. Modern body armor had made the standard pistol cartridges used by the MP5, the Uzi, the Czech Skorpion and the others obsolete. The MP7 announced a new day in personal warfare.
The MP7 fired armor piercing, high velocity rounds that could drill through twenty layers of Kevlar. An armored vest made no difference. They could just as easily punch through the steel door of the Mercedes his targets were driving. The one on the seat had a 40 round box magazine extending out of the pistol grip, an innovative feature. Like they said, you could never be too thin or too rich or have too much ammo. Dupree liked having the extra ten rounds ready to go.
He leaned back in the seat and waited. Dupree was in a good mood, thinking about what he'd do with the money he'd get for taking them out of the picture. It was hard to beat his occupation. Where else could you earn a million euros for a few minutes' work?
*****
The temperature outside the car hovered just above freezing. Selena had on a dark blue jacket lined with fleece, a matching wool hat and a colorful scarf. They all wore winter jackets and warm clothes. Nick didn't like winter much. The thick jackets could get in the way when reaching for a weapon. It was one thing in the military, where weapons were always accessible. It was another when you were dressed as a civilian.
Gutenberg's house was set on several acres of land away from neighbors. Big and sprawling, four stories high with dormers and steeply pitched roofs, the house had a solid look of respectability. The exterior was white stucco framed by dark timber accents. A large portico shielded the entrance from the weather. A railed veranda ran along the front on the second floor, past a row of tall windows. The building was set back from the road at the end of a long drive. The landscaped grounds were covered with snow. The drive had been plowed.
A stone wall bordered the property. Elaborate black iron gates blocked entry. An intercom and camera were mounted on the wall next to the gate.
"No guardhouse," Ronnie said. He scanned the property through binoculars.
"He doesn't need one." Selena pointed.
Two large German shepherds were playing in the snow on the other side of the gate. A third sat nearby, watching.
"Big dogs," Lamont said.
"That's just for openers," Nick said. "He'll have guards up there at the house and sensors covering the grounds. There will be cameras everywhere."
"Going to be tough to get him in there," Ronnie said.
"But not impossible. I'm not going in there blind. He could have fifty men inside."
"There's someone," Ronnie said.
He handed Nick the binoculars. A tall man in a winter parka and a dark blue watch cap pulled down
over his ears came around the far corner of the building. He had a submachine gun slung over his shoulder. The dogs ran up to him, scattering snow in the air as they vied for attention. He reached down and patted the leader and said something. They ran off toward the back of the building.
"Just like we figured," Lamont said. "We knew he'd have guards."
"But how many?" Ronnie said.
"More than one, you can count on that," Nick said. "We need to find out if he ever leaves the property. It would be easier to take him if he was away from the house."
"Can we get Harker to put a satellite on it? That way if he does leave we'd know it."
"I already asked her. Let's go back to the city. We can't do anything until we have more information."
Nick was driving. He put the car in gear and started back toward Leipzig.
Traffic was light. The roads were clear of snow except for a few blowing flakes. The freeze had left patches of ice here and there on the pavement. They were still in the suburbs. Nick kept the speed down.
Selena was looking in the side mirror. "I think someone is following us."
"The blue Volvo?" Nick said. "I've been watching him. He showed up right after we left Gutenberg's house."
The Volvo was keeping back, never getting too close.
"Maybe it's just a car," Selena said.
"Maybe it's not. Let's find out."
Nick speeded up. After a brief hesitation the Volvo kept pace. They came to an intersection just as the light was changing and Nick turned right. The Volvo was caught at the light. Nick drove two blocks and turned left. He saw a gas station and pulled in behind the pumps, facing the way they'd come. The engine idled, the only sound in the car coming from the heater.
The blue Volvo went by.
"Let's play tag," Nick said.
He let several cars go by and then pulled out into traffic. Nick kept two or three cars between them and their quarry. Suddenly the Volvo picked up speed.
"He's made us," Ronnie said.
Nick sped up after him.
"He's turning onto the autobahn," Selena said.
Nick followed him onto the A14, headed away from Leipzig. The plows had been out in full force, clearing the six lane highway. A narrow median divided the blacktop road, bracketed on both sides by a low steel guardrail. Ahead, the Volvo accelerated away.
"Man, he's really moving," Lamont said.
"Most of the traffic's going the other way, into the city," Selena said.
They passed a speed limit sign. It read 130.
"That's in kilometers," Selena said. "Eighty-one miles per hour."
"We're going faster than that," Nick said.
They'd moved out of the suburbs and into open countryside. The Volvo continued to accelerate. They passed a car that had skidded off the road. The surface of the highway appeared clear of ice and snow. They came over a rise. Ahead, the road dipped down toward a low bridge crossing a canal. On the near side of the bridge a small group of people clustered near an ambulance. A police car was parked next to it with flashing lights. The rear end of a car stuck up out of the canal. Several more cars had skidded off the side of the road into the snow.
Ahead of them in the Volvo, Dupree was going over a hundred miles an hour. He saw the police and hit the brakes. The car went into a violent spin. Dupree tried to brake and steer. Nothing happened. The steering wheel felt as though it wasn't connected to anything. The Volvo spun down the slope, out of control. Frantic, Dupree pumped the brakes and twisted the wheel, with no result. People scrambled out of the way as the car hurtled toward them.
The Volvo slammed into the ambulance. The gas tank ruptured. A dull boom rolled along the highway. A balloon of orange flame wrapped itself around Dupree's car.
Nick started to brake and the car went sideways. He took his foot off the pedal and tried steering into the skid but nothing happened. The Mercedes was sideways in the middle of the road and sliding down the slope at eighty miles an hour. There was nothing he could do. He left the wheel where it was.
"Oh, shit," Ronnie said.
Next to Nick, Selena sat rigid in her seat. She gripped the dash as they sped toward the bridge and the canal. They flashed by the flaming wreckage, still sideways in the middle of the road. Two cops in black leather and peaked caps stared open-mouthed at the car as it went by. On the other side of the bridge Nick felt the wheels grip the road. He swerved and straightened out and kept going, leaving the crash scene behind.
"Holy shit." Lamont looked back at the wreckage. "What was that?"
"Black ice," Nick said. "No way to see it."
"Did you see the look on the faces of those policemen?" Selena asked.
"We better get off this road in case they still have a radio that works," Ronnie said. "There's an exit coming up ahead."
Nick left the Autobahn and pointed the car in the general direction of Leipzig. Selena turned on the GPS.
"I wonder who he was?" she said.
"I don't know but he was trouble."
"You think he was waiting at Gutenberg's for us to show up?"
"I'm not sure, but I might have seen him behind us after we left the hotel. He probably followed us from there. If he was waiting for us, it means Gutenberg knows we're on to him."
"That's not good," Ronnie said.
Watching the GPS, Selena said, "Take your next left and follow that road for the next twenty-five kilometers."
Nobody said anything for the rest of the drive back into the city.
CHAPTER 40
Colonel Dimitri Brusilov stood in the commander's hatch of his Armata T-14, studying the border post marking the boundary between Russia and Latvia through his binoculars. The road went through the post and straight to the Latvian capital of Riga, less than a day's drive away. Ominous black clouds were building on the horizon over the Baltic, signaling a major storm front moving in. It meant snow and poor visibility and problems for everyone. The sky had been overcast most of the day. It had briefly cleared up but Dimitri knew it wouldn't last long. Behind him the other tanks in his battalion idled easily, wasting fuel, waiting for the order to advance. The problem was the weather. Heavy cloud cover meant no air support. Now that it had finally cleared there was only an hour or two of daylight left. Someone in high command had screwed up.
The tanks were from the 4th Guards Tank Division, part of the rejuvenated 1st Guards Red Banner Tank Army. The Red Banner Tank Army had been famous during the Soviet era. Dimitri and his tanks were about to write a new chapter in the Army's history.
Dimitri had been chosen to be first over the border, a significant honor. He was determined to be worthy of it. He wasn't concerned about himself but he wasn't sure how his tank would hold up. All of the T-14s had electronic and mechanical teething problems and his tank was no exception.
The computers on the T-14 controlled everything, including the radar guided targeting, loading and defense systems that made the Armata such a formidable weapon. There had been issues with the weapons systems on this tank from the day it had rolled out of the factory. Dimitri had tried to commandeer a tank with fewer problems but he'd been told to make the best of it.
Dimitri's career in tanks had begun in a simpler era. The Armata was faster and more powerful than any tank he had ever commanded but he longed for the days when it didn't require specialized training in computers just to keep everything working. If something went wrong during this operation it could end his career.
Off to Dimitri's left, the driver's head stuck out through his hatch like an odd shaped pumpkin. Yuri came from a small village east of the Urals. At twenty-three years old he was full of piss and vinegar and ready to conquer the world. His enthusiasm was catching and he was an excellent driver. Dimitri was pleased to have him in his crew.
"What are they doing over there, sir?" Yuri asked.
"There are perhaps a hundred soldiers from their border guard. They have blocked the road with a bulldozer."
Yuri snorted. "We could hit it f
rom here. One round from Vera and it will be gone."
Dimitri had named their tank Vera, after Vera Zasulich, a female assassin who had killed an important Tsarist official in the months leading up to the October Revolution. The 125mm cannon had a range of eight kilometers. It would make short work of the bulldozer and the soldiers too, if they were anywhere nearby when the shell hit.
"My grandfather served in a T-34 during the Great Patriotic War," Yuri said, "all the way to Berlin. I wish he could be here today."
Dimitri nodded. "He would be proud of you. It was a good tank in its day."
"Ours is better."
Over his headset Dimitri heard the division commander say the words that would launch the invasion.
"Soldiers of the Red Banner Army! Today we begin a new era. I am proud to be your commander, proud to be with you in this historic moment. Never forget that you are the best soldiers in the world. Do your duty for the Rodina. Your country is watching you with gratitude."
There was a pause. "Execute Bright Sword."
Yuri had heard. "That's it."
About time, Dimitri thought.
"Button up. Let's move," Dimitri said. "Head straight for the border station."
Dimitri switched to the command channel and spoke into his microphone.
"All units, this is Sword One. Advance in formation."
He dropped down into the tank and closed the hatch. Yuri reclined in his seat and shut the hatch. He looked through his periscope and engaged the twelve speed automatic transmission. The tank began to move forward.
Dimitri's gunner was named Sergei. Sergei had graduated first in his class at gunnery school. He had an impressive armory to play with. Aside from the main cannon there was a 12.7 mm Kord heavy machine-gun, a 7.62 mm machine gun and antiaircraft missiles. The main cannon could fire several different types of missiles, all loaded by the computer. For this operation a special 3UBK21 Sprinter guided missile fitted with a low yield nuclear warhead had been added to the tank's armament. It made Dimitri uneasy to have it on board, even though it was supposed to be safe.