It wasn’t much, but it did seem to be an encouraging sign for the future. And, after all that had happened, it would do for now.
Chapter 18 – Monday, May 24th
Moscow
Grebeshkov sat in his new Kremlin office in the Senate Building and watched a replay of Anderson’s latest interrogation with professional interest, admiring Eskov’s ability to tease out Anderson’s story without the need – or even the implicit threat – of violence. Unlike the previous evening, Eskov now referred regularly to his notes, comparing what Anderson was telling him to what Charlotte Saunders had earlier revealed. Grebeshkov did his own comparison, noting the impressive similarity between the two tales – whether that was due to their veracity or otherwise, he had yet to determine.
A short break, then Grebeshkov picked out specific moments from the various interviews, ignoring the translation and turning down the sound, somehow trying to gauge the truth without the distraction of the spoken word. It worried him that he was wasting so much time on something so trivial. What did it matter whether Anderson and Saunders were involved with August 14? Yet, somehow, it seemed important, Anderson’s intimate knowledge and understanding of Erdenheim giving him a crucial insight into the very heart of the terrorists’ British base.
The video clip ended and Grebeshkov sat staring at a frozen image on the screen, thoughts reflecting on how much had changed in the last twenty-four hours. However one looked at it, no single adjective could in any way justify the sudden reversal of fortunes that had struck August 14 and its secessionist allies.
Moscow was now a relative haven of peace and tranquillity, transport and communications virtually back to normal, the city’s infrastructure free from the disruptive cyber-attacks. Although wildcat strikes were still a minor problem, the Special Forces’ recent successes had resulted in the FSB knowing exactly who to arrest and roughly where to find them. Elsewhere, the military had started to reclaim the initiative from the secessionists, with fighting restricted to the Siberian cities of Novosibirsk and Irkutsk. The nationalist groups in Dagestan and Tatarstan were also on the defensive, the federal authorities well on the way to regaining control. Russia’s future had ultimately been decided by the people themselves, the coup succeeding by virtue of a surge of popular support, the secessionists unable to ensure a similar loyalty in any but a vociferous minority.
The TV news stations were struggling to know which story to run as the main headline: should it be the spectacular – as in the destruction of August 14’s British base at Graythorp; the dramatic – as in the airborne assault on Yakutsk; or the shocking – as in the attack on the Gepard and the missile strike against the destroyer Nastoychivyy.
August 14’s demise did seem truly spectacular and even if there were certain aspects still to be resolved, notably in Poland, the terrorists had received a deadly double blow. Firstly, the taking of the Princess Eloise; then, some ten hours later, the elimination of their command and control centre in England. Images from inside Erdenheim had been released to the media, together with damning extracts from computer files, detailing the terrorists’ targets and methods. August 14’s leader – now publicly revealed as ex-CIA analyst Martin Rebane – was apparently dead, the British facility destroyed by several massive explosions.
Specific details as to how Erdenheim had been neutralised and the means by which Russia had obtained the video images were left unexplained, a spokesman vigorously denying any Russian involvement in its demise. Not that anyone in Moscow believed such denials, it purely political expediency, and people were just delighted August 14 was finally being defeated. The British authorities had ridiculed the reports linking Erdenheim to terrorism, the explosion blamed on a gas leak with the video placed in the same category as that from Lithuania.
Grebeshkov had been briefed as to the more dramatic events immediately he had settled into the Kremlin, just part of the wealth of facts he now had to grapple with. Full disclosure as to the attack on Erdenheim was withheld even from him, elements within Valentin’s SVR taking the credit. Such secrecy well illustrated that Grebeshkov was still an outsider, his exact authority unclear despite the smart office and helpful aides.
The triangular Senate building in the north of the Kremlin complex remained the key centre of government, and what had been the offices of the presidential administration were now under the authority of the National Committee for Democratic Unity. The majority of the bureaucrats were the same men and women as a week earlier, the only obvious difference the presence of armed guards on each of the Senate’s three floors. Grebeshkov had still insisted on bringing in his own trusted aides, and that of course included a security element headed by Markova.
The coup d’état was not quite two days old but Russia was already reaping the benefit, public optimism spreading outwards from Moscow as the new Government showed its power and strength of purpose. With the secessionist threat steadily diminishing, the Committee’s focus had turned towards the accelerating chaos in the Baltic.
First the Gepard and Minnesota had battered each other into insensibility, one of the Gepard’s torpedoes exploding close to the American submarine’s stern – no reports of casualties but the Minnesota was presently under tow, heading towards the German naval facility at Eckernforde. Less than hour later, the Nastoychivyy had become the second Russian warship to be targeted by missiles fired from Polish soil, the destroyer suffering significant damage, with sixteen seamen killed. Russia had immediately responded with a cruise missile attack against the naval facility at Gdynia; six reported dead.
An unofficial truce now existed, both sides taking stock while planning out their next move. So far, purely in terms of victory points, it looked to be fairly even. A solution to the crisis in the Baltic would surely guarantee the coup’s long-term survival, but Grebeshkov could see no obvious compromise, or at least one acceptable to Russian public opinion, NATO’s stance merely adding to people’s sense of injustice. And with the evidence mounting as to significant involvement by the West in August 14, would any compromise ever be acceptable?
The capture of the Princess Eloise had in turn brought Erdenheim to the attention of Valentin’s SVR, the vessel presently under escort to St. Petersburg. Captain Koval remained in the SVR’s custody, leaving the FSB to learn what they could from their two British guests. Transcripts from each interrogation were being passed twice-daily between the two organisations, ensuring that both of Russia’s security agencies were kept fully informed as to the latest revelations. That was theory; in practice, the SVR maintained a tight rein on information gleaned from Erdenheim and its computer files.
Rebane, McDowell, Carter, Koval, possibly also the Polish woman Klaudia Woroniecki: if Anderson and Saunders were to be believed, the wider conspiracy had been restricted to a few American academics and their East European allies. Yet Grebeshkov still found it odd that Anderson and Saunders had been allowed to voyage to Poland, Eskov arguing that it seemed over-complicated, questioning whether Anderson was specifically hunting for a story on August 14. Grebeshkov now began to wonder whether the reality was more subtle, with even Anderson’s belief a flawed interpretation of the facts.
Grebeshkov looked afresh at how August 14 had been dismantled, it almost as if there had been guiding hand leading the various investigators to a very specific conclusion. The video clip from Lithuania, the Princess Eloise with Anderson conveniently aboard, the computer files from Erdenheim... taken together, the evidence of American and East European involvement in August 14 was overwhelming. To Grebeshkov, it was just a little too clear-cut, everything nicely packaged to tell one carefully-choreographed tale.
If that were true, it followed that Anderson and Charlotte Saunders were thus little more than convenient messengers. The FSB was responsible for Russia’s internal security and it had no prior claim on the Eloise’s two passengers; like Koval, they should strictly be under the jurisdiction of the SVR. Instead they had generously been presented to the Lubyanka, their first
-hand accounts meant to remove any lingering doubts the FSB might have as to the West’s support for August 14. It was a prime example of overkill, pushing a specific premise to such an extreme that it merely made Grebeshkov suspicious; he had grown to expect something better, feeling strangely disappointed by such arrogance, Grebeshkov and the FSB almost being treated with disdain.
Once he continued with that line of logic, the ease with which the multiple and diverse threats to Russia’s stability had been countered made perfect sense, it simple enough when those involved knew precise details of each and every danger. Russia had deliberately been taken to the brink of chaos and then dragged back, the SVR’s timing for its various successes all-too perfect.
Overall, it was an outrageous and incredibly risky strategy. Was it even feasible that someone would have the gall to try? And with what precise aim in mind?
For the moment it was all conjecture and a dangerous reversal of the tale presently presented to the world. Grebeshkov was not someone to flinch from the truth, wherever it might lead, yet he had no evidence to support his belief, merely a frustrated desire to expose the masquerade that called itself August 14. The FSB had been tricked all-too easily, and Grebeshkov was concerned that Nabiyev might not be the only viper in their midst, unknown accomplices continuing to distort and manipulate.
Decision made, Grebeshkov reached across and picked up the phone, speaking at length to Markova, then to one of his new Kremlin aides – perhaps Erdenheim still had a few more secrets yet to be revealed.
* * *
The ornate office was something to aspire to: birch panelling, luxurious leather chairs, antique oak table, electronic gadgets aplenty, even a mini-bar. To Anderson, it seemed an eminently appropriate environment in which to enjoy his new role as Erdenheim expert, although it was disappointing that his personal space was restricted to just a small section of the table. The remainder of its surface was occupied by a newly-assembled and complex array of computers, three fresh-faced members of the FSB making a final check to ensure everything was as it should be.
Their officer sat at right-angles to Anderson, impatient to begin. She had introduced herself simply as Captain Markova, and despite her excellent English had pointedly curtailed Anderson’s various attempts at small-talk. Persistence had eventually helped him discover that he was now ensconced in the Senate Building, part of the Kremlin complex between the Arsenal and Building 14 – not that Anderson was much the wiser, but it sounded rather less intimidating than the FSB’s Lubyanka.
A few hours after Eskov’s morning interrogation, Anderson had been offered a simple choice: co-operate fully and Charlotte would be on her way home; refuse and they’d both be coping with Russian hospitality for the foreseeable future. Anderson didn’t harp on about International Law, or even protest that they were both innocent of any wrongdoing – he just accepted with good grace, knowing that it was the sensible way forward and a means of assuaging his guilt over Charlotte’s involvement. He had been allowed a few brief minutes to say his goodbyes to Charlotte and by now she should already be on a plane to Heathrow. Anderson hadn’t really known how much to tell her, and he hadn’t wanted to justify or explain – still, he felt more at ease, happy that at least Charlotte was safe.
As to what would eventually happen to Anderson had been left unsaid, his freedom presumably dependent in part on the nature and extent of his co-operation. It was only then that he had learnt of Erdenheim’s destruction. Shock had been his first reaction, followed soon after by despair: with Russia disclaiming all responsibility and Erdenheim a burnt-out shell, finding evidence to corroborate Anderson’s innocence now seemed unlikely. Captain Koval might just about know enough to help Anderson’s cause, but would he be that considerate? And in any case did the Russians themselves really care whether Anderson was innocent or not? It certainly seemed of little interest to the good Captain Markova.
Anderson’s relocation to the Senate had happened mid-afternoon, the transfer executed with a worrying degree of secrecy. He had even been given a smart FSB uniform to wear, the colour scheme of military blue-green matching those of his four Russian companions. Anderson was now starting to feel slightly more optimistic, keen to exert his new-found influence, even if it was somewhat temporary. And an attractive woman in uniform as his overseer seemed a fairly encouraging bonus. Sadly, Markova’s sidearm only served to emphasise her secondary custodial role, and a constant reminder as to Anderson’s true status.
Final checks complete, Markova deigned to explain to Anderson his part in their enterprise, it assumed his knowledge of Erdenheim would help in the continuing search to identify more of the Rebane’s associates, even Yuri. It was to be a team effort, led by Markova, aided by Anderson, with each of Markova’s three associates linked to a network of helpers – their exact number and whereabouts left open to conjecture. Not quite Erdenheim, but close enough.
Official resources, such as the FSB’s intelligence database and Interpol, were available at the touch of a button, but not for some reason Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service or its military affiliate. If required, certain other data sources could be accessed, although there were limitations – details as yet unspecified.
Markova made no attempt to hide the fact that their undertaking was covert in nature, but quite why the need for such secrecy and why the Senate rather than the Lubyanka were not matters Anderson chose to dwell on, putting them down to normal Russian paranoia. Anderson just hoped he could be of some use, ignoring the fear that he was actually colluding with the enemy – his twenty years for treason could wait until he’d finished his ten years in the Siberian gulag.
Markova initially focused on Anderson’s own computer files, his Erdenheim folder simply downloaded from the cloud. The FSB’s facial-recognition software took just seconds to analyse all of the relevant photos, with only the images from the helicopter flight producing probable hits, four more Americans – three working in counter-terrorism, one a software designer – added to the list of Rebane’s associates.
Markova duly kept Anderson apprised as to progress. For the time being there were no national security issues, the results merely reinforcing Anderson’s own research. Without any photographic links to Yuri, the FSB was left with little choice but to rely on Anderson’s dubious brand of assumptions and guesswork, it still not absolutely certain that Lara really was Klaudia Woroniecki.
Markova spoke briefly in Russian to the young man next to her; moments later she twisted her laptop around to allow Anderson to view the screen.
“Flight details,” she reported nonchalantly, “for the helicopter company used by Erdenheim, filtered by trips to Graythorp. Fourteen in total; no passenger names, just how many. The last trip was Wednesday, May 19th; the one before that was Friday, May 14th, which would be the one you photographed.”
Anderson was suitably impressed, although he assumed the database hadn’t just that moment been hacked. His gaze settled on a different entry, the date a good match to the possible arrival of McDowell’s two drinking companions.
Markova appeared to have read his thoughts, “Two passengers picked up from Heathrow, Sunday April 25th, 13:30; return flight from Erdenheim to Heathrow, Wednesday April 28th, 10:00.”
Whilst they now had some idea as to when Yuri and Lara might have arrived at Heathrow, only the airlines’ own reservation systems could supply more specific answers. Anderson realised he probably knew more than most about the intricacies of the booking process. The flow of data between airlines, travel agents and other agencies was a complex interplay between different systems, coordinated by several global distribution companies. Each booking resulted in a unique passenger name record (PNR), and although fears about unauthorised use – or even over-use by government agencies – had resulted in restrictions as to what information a PNR held and for how long, it still included all relevant booking and passport information. A PNR wasn’t erased even if a booking was cancelled. A list of PNRs would thus be a good starting poi
nt for any search, although futile without the matching passport photo.
Markova was still one step ahead of Anderson. “We can access the passenger name records for airlines operating out of Heathrow, but the more records we hack the greater the chance of being detected; the intrusion systems will then immediately send out a global alert. We would need to synchronise any attempts and restrict the search to specific carriers or agencies. With our present resources, that means no more than three.” Markova broke off to check something else, “Apparently, there is a booking profile for those terrorists entering Russia by plane.”
A questioning look from Anderson and she read out the key facts, “Bookings always made online using a credit card, no more than three days in advance; single seat booking; never first-class, usually business-class rather than economy; airline invariably a flag carrier, primarily Finnair, Lufthansa, and LOT; never Aeroflot.”
Anderson nodded his understanding, unsure how much faith to put in any such analysis. “The terrorists you’ve caught,” he asked thoughtfully, “did they all have genuine digital passports?”
Markova nodded, “Names and other details were false but they corresponded to the passports’ biometric data; none were stolen.”
“And all EU or Russian?”
“The majority, but not all.” Markova was quick to grasp what Anderson was suggesting. “You want to use the passport details from the PNRs to access the corresponding passport photographs? If the passport is genuine with the record stored in a national passport centre, then that should be possible, even if the names are false. But that could involve dozens of passport centres.”
Anderson wasn’t quite so pessimistic, “Hopefully we can filter the possibilities down to just a handful.”
The Will Of The People (Conspiracy Trilogy Book 1) Page 28