Op Center 02 - Mirror Image

by Mirror Image [lit]

  FOURTY-THREE

  Tuesday, 4:05 A.M., the Gulf ofFinland

  The smell inside the midget submarine was terrible. The forced air was dry and stale. But for Peggy James, that wasn't the worst of it. She hated the total sense of disorientation. The submarine was constantly caught in currents, rocking from side to side or bobbing to and fro. The helmsman used the ship's rudders to adjust their course, which, for a moment, made the gentle hobbyhorse become a bucking bronco.

  She was also having trouble seeing and hearing. To begin with, they were whispering. And the thickness of the hull and the surrounding water muted the sounds even more. Apart from the faint radiance given off by the control panel, the only light came from the small, hooded flashlight they were allowed to use. Its dull yellow light-not to mention the long hours she'd been awake, and the sleep-inducing warmth of the cabinmade it difficult to keep her eyes open. After just two hours underwater, she was keenly anticipating surfacing at the halfway point some four hours from now.

  The good news was, David George had picked up the Russian phrases fairly quickly, which reminded her never to judge a person by his drawl or to mistake wide eyed eagerness for naivet. George was smart and savvy, with a boyish enthusiasm that infused whatever he seemed to be doing. Even though he was no less a landlubber than she was, George didn't seem to mind the ride.

  Peggy and George spent time reviewing maps of St. Petersburg and blueprints showing the layout of the Hermitage. She agreed with the D16 analysts, who believed that any spy activities would be an adjunct to the new TV studio, and that Fields-Hutton was probably correct about the studio being located in the basement. Not only was the studio a perfect cover for the equipment the Russians would need and the kinds of signals they'd be sending, but the basement would put them far from the western side of the second floor. That was where the museum's numismatic collection was kept, and the metal in the coins might affect sensitive instruments.

  Wherever it was located in the museum, the facility would need communications cables. And if they found those, she and Private George would be able to discover what was going on inside. Moreover, if the Center was underground, chances were good that the cables would be located in or near adjoining air ducts. Not only was it easier to run them through preexisting passageways, it was easier to get to them for repairs or upgrades. The question was, would they have to wait until dark to do their electronic search, or could they find someplace in the museum to use the equipment she'd brought?

  Her eyes growing heavy in the dim light, Peggy asked George if they could finish later. He admitted he was getting tired also and could use a break. She shut her eyes and snuggled down in her seat, not thinking about the submarine but imagining that she was on a swing outside a cottage in Tregaron, Wales. It was where she had grown up and had vacationed so often with Keith, in a Cold War world that was strangely less dangerous and more predictable than the new, post-Communist order ....

  FOURTY-FOUR

  Tuesday, 6:30 A.M., St. Petersburg

  "General," Radio Officer Marev said over the telephone, "Zilash said you wanted to know about communications between General Kosigan and Minister Dogin. There is one taking place now, scrambled, Code Milky Way."

  General Orlov shot upright in his office chair. "Thank you, Titev. Put it on the computer."

  Milky Way was the most complex code employed by the Russian military. It was used on open lines and not only scrambled the communication electronically, but scattered it over numerous wavelengths-across the heavens, as it were-so that a listener without a descrambler would need literally dozens of receivers tuned to different channels to catch every piece of it. Both the Minister's office and Kosigan's command center had the proper descrambler. So did Titev.

  As Orlov hung up and waited for the descrambling and transcription, he ate the tuna sandwich Masha had made for him, and thought back over the past three hours. Rossky had retired to his office at 4:30. It was somehow reassuring to know that even the steel men of the spetsnaz had to rest. Orlov knew it was going to take a while for him to strike the right tone with Rossky, but he told himself that for all his flaws the Colonel was a fine soldier. The effort, however long it took, would be worth it.

  Orlov had gone out to welcome the night crew to the fully operational facility, and had taken the opportunity to invite the Colonel's evening counterpart Colonel Oleg Dal, to his office. Dal, who found Rossky even more abrasive than Orlov did, was a sixty-year-old Air Force veteran who had trained Orlov and was one of the many officers whose careers came to a virtual standstill after German teenager Mathias Rust penetrated Russian air defenses and landed his small plane in Red Square in 1987. Dal hated how Rossky refused to relinquish command of anything, even in areas where the Colonel was less experienced. He too understood that that was the spetsnaz way. But it didn't make him like it any better.

  General Orlov informed Dal about the 76T and its eastward progress. It was southeast of Franz Josef Land in the Arctic Ocean. He also informed him about the efforts by United States intelligence to communicate with other Russian transports. Dal agreed that the 76T seemed to be suspicious, not only because it was flying to the east, away from the action, but because there was no record of any transfer of goods in Berlin or Helsinki. Though the records might be held up in red tape, Dal suggested a flyby to signal the pilot to break radio silence and explain his mission. Orlov agreed, and asked him to take the issue up with Air Force General-Major Petrov, who was in charge of the four air defense divisions that patrolled the Arctic Circle.

  Orlov had decided to say nothing about the money on the Trans-Siberian train. He wanted to try and find out what Dogin and Kosigan were planning before taking action, and hoped that this call would be somewhat more informative.

  Orlov quickly finished the last of his sandwich as the transcription began coming through. He pulled a cloth napkin from the paper bag and touched it to his lips. It bore a trace of Masha's perfume from when she'd packed it. He smiled.

  As the voices began coming in, Titev had tagged them so the computer recognized which was Kosigan and which was Dogin. The text appeared in solid blocks, broken when someone else spoke and punctuated based on the inflection of the speaker. Orlov read with increasing concern. He was worried not only about the prospects for peace but about who was answering to whom in the relationship.

  Dogin: General, we seem to have taken the Kremlin and the world by surprise.

  Kosigan: That was my zadacha dnia ... my mission of the day.

  Dogin: Zhanin is still busy trying to figure out what's happening

  Kosigan: As I've said, force him to react rather than act and he's helpless.

  Dogin: That's the only reason I let you move your troops this far before the money was in place.

  Kosigan: Let?

  Dogin: Agreed, let, what's the difference? You were right to want to put Zhanin on the defensive so soon.

  Kosigan: Momentum we mustn't lose

  Dogin: We won't. Where are you?

  Kosigan: Thirty-two miles west of Lvov, Poland. All the forward regiments are in place and I can see Poland from my command tent. All we await are the great acts of terrorism Shovich's money is supposed to buy me. Where are they? I'm getting restless.

  Dogin: You may have to wait a little longer than we'd planned.

  Kosigan: Wait? What do you mean?

  Dogin. The snow. General Orlov transferred the crates to a train.

  Kosigan: Six billion dollars on a train! Do you think he suspects?

  Dogin: No, no, it's nothing like that. He did it to get the cargo through the storm. Kosigan: But on a train, Minister? So vulnerable

  Dogin: Orlov's son's unit is guarding it. Rossky assures me the boy's a real soldier, not a trained space monkey.

  Kosigan: He could be in league with his father.

  Dogin: I assure you, General, that is not the case. And no one will ever hear of the money afterward. When this is finished, we'll retire Orlov the Elder and return Orlov the Yo
unger to his military hole where no one will ever hear of it. Don't worry. I'll have the cargo met west of Bira, clear of the storm, and flown to you. Kosigan: Fifteen or sixteen hours wasted! The first of the major disturbances should have been happening by then! You risk giving Zhanin the time to take control of the situation.

  Dogin: He won't. I've spoken with our allies in the government. They understand about the delay

  Kosigan: Allies? They're profiteers, not allies. If Zhanin traces this action to us and gets to them before some of the money lines their pockets

  Dogin: He won't. The President will do nothing for now. And our Polish hirelings will act the moment they are paid.

  Kosigan: The government! The Poles! We don't need either of them! Let me send spetsnaz troops disguised as shipyard or factory workers to attack the police station and television station.

  Dogin: I can't let you do that.

  Kosigan: Let?

  Dogin: They're professionals. We need amateurs. This has to look like a revolt that springs up across the nation, not like an invasion.

  Kosigan: Why? Who do we have to mollify, the United Nations? Half the Army and Air Forces and two-thirds of the Navy of the Soviet Union belong to Russia. We control 520,000 Army troops, 30,000 Strategic Rocket Forces, 110, 000 Air Defense forces, 200,000 Navy personnel

  Dogin: We can't break faith with the entire world!

  Kosigan: Why not? I can seize Poland and then take the Kremlin. When we have power, what does it matter what Wash ington or anyone else thinks?

  Dogin: And how will you control Poland when it's time to move on? Martial law? Even your troops would be spread too thin.

  Kosigan: Hitler made object lessons of entire villages. It worked.

  Dogin: A half century ago, yes. Not today. Satellite dishes, cellular telephones, and fax machines make it impossible to isolate a nation and break its spirit. I've told you before this must be a groundswell, and it must be guided by the officials and leaders who are already in place. People who can be bought but whom the Poles trust. We can't afford chaos.

  Kosigan: What about the promise of broader powers when they win the elections there in two months? Isn't that enough to move the constables and mayors?

  Dogin: It is. But they've also insisted on bank accounts if they lose.

  Kosigan: Bastards.

  Dogin: Don't fool yourself, General. We're all bastards. Just stay calm. I've alerted Shovich that the shipment will be late, and he's told his agents.

  Kosigan: How did he take it?

  Dogin: He said he used to mark time by scratching lines on the wall of his cell. A few hash marks more won't bother him.

  Kosigan: I hope so, for your sake.

  Dogin: Everything is still on track-merely delayed. Instead of twenty-four hours from now, we'll be toasting our new revolution forty hours from now.

  Kosigan: I hope you're right, Minister. One way or another, I promise you: I will go to Poland. Good evening, Minister.

  Dogin: Good evening, General, and stay calm. I won't disappoint you.

  When the transmission ended, Orlov felt the way he had the first time he was spun in a centrifuge during cosmonaut training: disoriented and sick.

  The scheme was to take over Eastern Europe, oust Zhanin, and build a new Soviet empire, and it was ingenious in its evil way. A Communist newspaper in a small Polish town is blown up. The Communists in cities from Warsaw to the Ukrainian border counterattack hard, well out of proportion to the blast, and Dogin gets his groundswell as old-time Communists become encouraged-there were still a lot of them who respected the way Wladyslaw Gomulka tossed out the Stalinists in 1956 and formed Polish-style Communism with its odd hybrid of socialism and capitalism. Poland is torn in two as the old Solidarity alliances are revived and, with the Church, they begin railing against the Communists, just as they did when the Polish Pope urged Catholics to make Lech Walesa President. Closet Communists come out in the open, leading to a replay of the strikes, lack of food and other goods, as well as the disorder that Poland experienced in 1980. Refugees pour into the rich Ukrainian west so they can eat, old tensions between Catholics and the Ukrainian Orthodox Church are fired up, Polish troops and tanks are called in to stem the exodus, and Kosigan's troops are used to escort the refugees back to their homes in Poland. Those troops don't leave, and then the Czechs or Romanians become the next target.

  Orlov felt as if he were dreaming, not only because of the events that were about to unfold but because of the position in which he'd placed his son. To stop Dogin, it would be necessary to order Nikita not to turn over the cargo that had been entrusted to him, and perhaps to take up arms against anyone trying to claim the crates. If Dogin were victorious, Nikita would be executed. If Dogin lost, Orlov knew his son: Nikita would feel as though he'd betrayed the military. Then there was also the possibility that Nikita would disobey his father. If that happened, Orlov would have no choice but to arrest him after the train had stopped and the cargo had already been delivered. Insubordination or disobedience of orders carried a prison sentence of one to five years, and not only would it be the final break between them but Masha would take it much harder than the trouble Nikki had had back at the academy.

  Since the transcript and even the broadcast could have been faked at the Center-digitally cobbled together from earlier recordings-there was nothing he could take to President Zhanin as evidence of treason. But the crates must not be delivered, and that was something he could tell the Kremlin. In the meantime, he hoped he could convince his son that Dogin, a man who had served his country selflessly and had helped to prevent the boy's expulsion from the Academy, was now an enemy of that country.

  Colonel Rossky had not been resting.

  Corporal Valentina Belyev had gone home, leaving Rossky alone in his office. He had been listening to communications between the offices at the Center, using a system that had been installed for him by the late Pavel Odina. It was because Pavel had put it in, and because no one else could ever know about it, that the communications expert had had to die on the bridge. Pavel was not a military man, but that didn't matter. Sometimes even the loyal service of civilians must result in death. It was like the tombs of ancient Egypt, the security of which was ensured by the death of their designers. There could be no room for sentiment where national security was concerned. Spetsnaz officers were expected to kill any man who was wounded or who hesitated. Deputy commanders were expected to murder commanders who failed to kill the wounded or cowardly. If necessary,

  Rossky would take his own life to protect a state secret. The outside telephones and internal communications net at the Operations Center were both linked to Rossky's computer. But there were also electronic bugs, as fine as human hair, threaded through electrical outlets, inserted into air vents, and hidden beneath rugs. Each microphone had a keycode on his computer. That way, Rossky could listen to any of the conversations using headphones, or the conversations could be recorded digitally for playback or electronic transmittal directly to Minister Dogin.

  Rossky had sat with his lips pressed tightly together as he played back the conversation between Orlov and his son. Then he listened as General Orlov ordered Titev to tap into the Minister's conversation with General Kosigan.

  How dare he! Rossky thought.

  Orlov was a popular man, a figurehead who had been hired because his fame and charisma were needed to get money from the Finance Minister for the Operations Center. Who was he to question the actions of Minister Dogin and General Kosigan?

  And now Rossky listened as General Orlov, this much-decorated hero, told his son that upon receiving word of his destination, he was to proceed there and, upon arriving, to refrain from turning over the crates to Minister Dogin's representatives. General Orlov said he would send his own team from the naval college to confiscate the cargo.

  Though Nikita acknowledged the order, Rossky could tell his heart wasn't in it. That was good. The boy would not be charged with treason and executed along with his father
.

  Rossky would gladly have committed the murder himself. But Minister Dogin did not allow lawless tactics among his lieutenants. Before the Center had become operational, the Minister had instructed Rossky to get in touch with him and he would contact General Mavik, Marshal of Artillery, if it was necessary to have any of Orlov's orders countermanded.

  When General Orlov radioed Major Levski, commander of the twelve-man Molot team, and ordered him to prepare for a flight to Bira, Colonel Rossky had heard enough. He entered a computer code that accessed a private line, a direct line to the Ministry of the Interior, and apprised Minister Dogin of the situation. Dogin said he would contact General Mavik to arrange for Orlov's departure, and instructed Rossky to begin making plans to assume control of the Operations Center.