by James Rosone
“Of course, I could just be over-analyzing a nightmare,” he thought, conflicted.
*******
At 0530 hours, after a hot shower and breakfast, President Petrov was handed the phone, which he eagerly took. “Colonel Chayko,” he began, “I want you to put your regiment on alert for a possible coup. You are to order your entire regiment to alert status, move the bulk of your forces to the fortress and prepare it to repel a possible attack. Is that understood?”
A slight pause took place on the other end. “Yes, Mr. President, at once,” answered Colonel Dmitry Chayko. “I shall report to your office within the hour. Shall I alert your security detail that this is happening?”
Petrov thought about that. Oleg probably should be notified; he didn’t want to alarm the FSO guards. If there was a coup, he’d need their help in repelling the attack as well. “Yes. Coordinate with Major General Zolotov, and report to me right away,” he said and then hung up the phone.
Feeling better now that he had put his fears at ease, Petrov headed to his office to begin packing a few personal belongings he wanted to bring with him to the underground bunker. After he ordered the release of nuclear weapons, he would order the government to move to their various secured facilities while they hoped and prayed the limited use of the nukes wouldn’t lead to an overwhelming retaliation by the Americans.
After finishing up his preparations, Petrov glanced at his watch again. It was 0750 hours, and the final meeting he’d hold in the Senate Palace was quickly approaching. At 0900 hours, his meeting with his senior military leaders would set into motion a series of orders and events that would either end the war by tomorrow or spiral it quickly out of control. It was a gamble, but if he hoped to stay in power and for Russia to prevail, he had to take it.
*******
Kremlin Fortress
The air was cold, and a light dusting of snow blanketed the city as a column of eight T-90 battle tanks, twenty-six BTR-3s and thirty-two BTR armored personnel carriers made their way through the streets of Moscow. The morning rush hour was light since the city was still under a petrol restriction, but the sight of so many armored vehicles and tanks moving in the direction of Red Square certainly caught the eyes of many people, both on the road and on the sidewalks.
Colonel Dmitry Chayko had arrived at the Kremlin grounds at 0630 hours, appearing very much ready to repel an enemy force or coup should his men have to. He’d brought nearly all the armored vehicles and tanks assigned to his unit for this operation. Upon arriving at the Kremlin, he hopped out of his vehicle and approached his nightshift commander, a lieutenant colonel, and informed him of the increase in alert status.
He then proceeded to issue orders for his various companies to move the armored vehicles to encircle the Kremlin fortress in a defensive circle, ready to defend the grounds if so ordered. He had his soldiers expand the perimeter around the grounds and placed heavy machine guns and snipers in the various guard towers surrounding the walled compound. Next, he placed soldiers at every entrance to each building and made sure he had multiple quick reaction force groups ready to move to any potential breaches in their perimeter. They ran through this deployment of forces just as they had in their training scenarios; everything was running like clockwork.
Once his troops had been deployed, he met with several of his key lieutenant colonels and majors, who knew about the special instructions from Petrov but were clearly nervous about what it all meant. Several of them looked at him apprehensively. Dmitry knew he needed to allay their concerns.
“The President called me very early this morning. Apparently, he had a premonition or dream that he somehow might be deposed by some rogue army generals. Accordingly, he wanted me to have the regiment ready, in case his dream did in fact become reality. We’re going to treat this like any other drill, and make our President feel safe and secure. As you know, my father-in-law is the head of the FSO. If there were more to this, then he would have told me so himself. So, please, let’s use this as an opportunity to drill our men to be prepared for anything. I want everyone to go along with our initial plan we had for the day. The code word for the day will be ‘morning glory.’ When you hear that, initiate our prediscussed plans. Understood?” he asked.
A chorus of “Yes, Sir” echoed back from his officers.
All but one of them had been read on to the real plan. They’d all agreed that if the President’s orders to release nuclear weapons were allowed to happen, their country, families, and everything they held dear would soon be destroyed. They had stood by and supported their President in the war against the Allies, but this next step was too much for them. If they didn’t take a stand now, there wouldn’t be a country left to serve or protect.
With the morning briefing done, his officers went about getting the fortress ready to repel an attack and tightened security around a variety of sensitive government buildings across the city.
*******
Senate Palace
It was nearly the end of January, and the full might of the Russian winter was on display in Moscow. The temperature had dropped significantly, and a winter storm was threatening to blanket the city in heavy snow that was sure to add to the already-terrible traffic of a major metropolitan city. When Oleg Zolotov’s vehicle stopped at the Borovitskaya Tower entry control point, he immediately noticed the increased security his son-in-law had warned him about. Instead of the eight soldiers that stood guard with a BTR parked at an angle that would allow it to close access to the Kremlin grounds, there was a BMP-3 blocking the road and a T-90 main battle tank, along with nearly a full platoon of soldiers.
The guard walked up to Oleg’s vehicle. “Papers!” he demanded.
Oleg passed his official papers over, along with his driver’s. The guard looked at the documents briefly, then snapped to attention and rendered a crisp salute before returning them. He twirled his hand in the air briefly to let the man driving the BMP know to move back so Oleg’s vehicle could pass. Seconds later, Oleg’s vehicle drove through the checkpoint and continued toward the Senate Palace, the personal residence of President Petrov and the seat of power in Moscow.
As the vehicle drove briefly past the Cathedral of the Archangel, they came to the Ivanovskaya Square, where he saw another four tanks and eight additional BMP-3s. It looked like Dmitry had moved a large portion of his regiment into the walls.
“Good, he’ll have plenty of soldiers here in case there’s trouble,” thought Oleg.
His driver pulled up to a parking spot that was reserved for him. Getting out of the vehicle, he saw the first signs that the anticipated snowstorm was finally arriving. He set out at once for the Senate Palace, confident in the plan and what he had to do. When he reached the first checkpoint inside the building, he saw a number of his key guards present—men he had personally picked to work this specific shift. The outside of the building might be protected by Dmitry’s men, but the inside was all his.
Making his way to the upper floor, where the President’s office was situated, Oleg walked past several of his senior guards. They quietly cleared the floor, as well as the way to the bunker deep underneath the building. They needed to dispose of Petrov quietly, and thus contain any potential immediate fallout from his removal from office. When Oleg gave the order, his bodyguards, who protected the other senior members of the government, would also move into action, gathering them all in the basement bunker. Once everyone was present, his men would effectively remove them from office.
Oleg made his way to the small monitoring office near the President’s residence. As usual, several of his men were looking at the various computer monitors, scanning them for anything out of the ordinary. Of the five men manning this room, four of them were already on board with the coup; the fifth man would either go along with them, or he’d be dealt with quickly.
Turning to look at the senior man on duty, Oleg asked, “Are all the parties present for the meeting yet?”
Boris nodded. “The senior military
men have just started their meeting with the President. The other agents guarding the cabinet members have all reported in. They’re ready to move when you give them the order.”
Oleg nodded. He noticed the perplexed look on the face of the one man who hadn’t been read in on what would be happening next, and decided it was time to find out where he stood. “Aman, the President is about to order the release of nuclear weapons so that tactical nukes can be fired upon the Allied forces currently inside Russia. When he does that, the Americans will surely retaliate with nuclear weapons of their own, and if they do, Petrov has ordered the military to respond with additional nuclear weapons aimed at the Allied countries.”
Aman’s eyes grew wide, and then a look of fear spread across his face.
Placing his hand on Aman’s shoulder, Oleg asserted, “We can’t allow the President to destroy Russia and the world. A plan has been put in place to make sure that would never happen, and now it needs to be implemented. Are you with us in ensuring Russia survives?” he asked. Of course, Boris had cleverly moved his right hand to his silenced pistol, in case Aman didn’t respond to his liking, or anyone else chose to back out at the last second.
Aman looked a bit like an animal that had been backed into a corner. He gulped. “When you put it that way, General, there’s only one choice to be made. We must protect Russia and prevent the world from being destroyed,” he answered.
Oleg smiled and patted the man on the back. Then he took Aman’s weapon from him and handed it to Boris. “Good choice. We’ll keep your gun for the moment, until we know for certain that you are fully on our side. In the meantime, do as you’re told by Boris, and we’ll all live to grow old with our families.”
Turning to face Boris, Oleg stood up straight and tall. “Initiate Morning Glory,” he ordered. “Have everyone moved to the various bunkers around the city. Seize their phones and electronic devices at once. We need to make sure they’re not able to transmit anything until it’s time.”
Boris immediately sent a coded text message to his heads of security and the bodyguards to round up their charges. The move to depose President Vladimir Petrov was underway.
Ten minutes later, Oleg was standing outside the briefing room, where Petrov was speaking with his senior military leaders. He waited until he heard the president give the orders to release nuclear authority to his generals, and then he sent a text message to his son-in-law.
A few minutes passed tensely, then he heard the sound of automatic gunfire and an explosion outside. That was his cue to rush in.
Bursting into the briefing room, Oleg shouted, “We have to move you to the secured bunker now, Mr. President!”
The bodyguards in the room quickly ushered the generals out into the hallway and down a set of stairs that led to the bunker. As they walked briskly, more gunfire went off, and then some soldiers yelled loudly.
“What is going on?!” demanded Petrov.
“There are reports of gunfire near Red Square, Mr. President,” Oleg replied calmly. “I heard from one of my sniper teams on the roof that they spotted a column of vehicles heading to the Kremlin fortress from the Sokolniki District.” They moved swiftly, ever closer to the bunker.
“Damn that Grigory! I knew my dream was a warning.” Petrov cursed angrily under his breath as they made their way to the bottom floor of the building.
Once in the basement, Oleg’s men led the President and the senior military members into the command bunker, which was already up and running, teeming with officers and NCOs updating the Allied positions on the various maps. The men in the room seemed surprised to see the President and the senior military leadership suddenly show up.
“Get me General Sobolev now!” demanded the President as he walked up to the operations officer in charge of the command center. Several of the other generals made their way to various phone banks to begin making their own calls.
“Sir, the phone lines are dead!” replied one of the young officers.
Petrov fumed with anger. He smacked his fist on one of the desktops. “Can you get through to Colonel Chayko with your radio?” he asked Oleg.
Oleg nodded. Had it not been for a series of upgrades to the FSO’s radio systems, their radios never would have worked down there in the bunker. After a couple of minutes, one of his guards was able to track down Colonel Chayko and handed Petrov a receiver.
“This is Colonel Chayko, Sir,” he answered. Through the radio, they all heard another short burst of gunfire in the background.
“Colonel, what’s the situation? What is happening?” demanded the President angrily. The other military men looked on, attentively listening for the reply.
“Sir, it would appear General Sobolev’s men are attempting a coup. I have the fortress on lockdown, and my forces are engaging his men outside the perimeter walls. We’re experiencing a lot of signal jamming right now, so I’m not able to place a call to any other outside units. I’ve sent runners to those bases, but it will be some time until we’re able to get some additional help. I recommend you stay in the bunker for the time being, until my men can resolve the situation,” Chayko suggested.
“Keep us apprised of what’s going on, Colonel,” Petrov said.
He handed the radio back to Oleg. “You go find out what the situation is, and get us some additional help,” he ordered.
Then the President turned to several of the other soldiers in the room, directing them to work with Oleg’s men in securing the bunker, making sure no one else came inside.
Once Oleg left the bunker, he ordered his guards, “Make sure the door stays locked, and don’t let anyone out.” These men knew exactly what that meant. With the bunker effectively cut off from the outside world, Oleg and Grigory could assume control of the government and then liquidate the men who would have destroyed not just Russia but the entire world.
******
Lubyanka Square
Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation
It was 0750 hours as Grigory met with Colonel Gennady Troshev, Commander of the 45th Guard’s Independent Spetsnaz Brigade. Colonel Troshev had just returned from the front lines when Grigory sent for him with a simple message: “It’s time.”
Grigory knew that his friend would have one of his most trusted battalions ready. Gennady shared Grigory’s vision; he too did not want to see his country destroyed in a nuclear fireball. He’d fought too many years and lost too many friends since the fall of the Soviet Union to lose what remained of his country.
“Are you sure Oleg’s son-in-law is going to be able to pull this off? I don’t want to have to fight through his regiment if I don’t have to,” Gennady said as he looked at the city map of Moscow. He already had his men in their vehicles, ready to roll as soon as they were given the order.
It hadn’t been an overnight progression that had brought Grigory Sobolev to be in this position. Ten years prior, the thought that he would be standing in that spot doing what he was about to do would’ve been completely out of the question. Grigory was fiercely loyal to Russia, to a fault.
Lieutenant General Grigory Sobolev had joined the KGB in 1975 and had worked in a variety of locations across much of Europe and North America. In the 1980s, he’d worked as a case officer in America, recruiting sources that would provide him with valuable information the KGB often used against the Americans. His main job was to oversee a small cadre of high-end escorts in the D.C. area. The working girls would secretly bug their clients’ houses or have them come to hotel rooms his technicians had previously bugged. During the course of his escorts’ interludes with their clients, many of whom were either politicians, defense contractors or military members, they would gather intelligence from these men, who would invariably confide in their mistresses and divulge some of their deepest secrets. This information would be used against them later on to manipulate or coerce them into giving up more secrets or face the possibility of being publicly exposed.
Grigory had risen to the rank of major when
the Soviet Union collapsed and was considered a rising star in the KGB. His ability to develop an intricate honeypot trap in D.C., and then later in New York, had earned him many awards. When the Soviet Union had fallen apart, he had been ordered to return to Moscow. Many of the former KGB men were simply laid off when the great collapse happened, and Grigory thought that might’ve become his fate, but when he arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to see that not only was he being kept on, he was promoted and given a new assignment.
He was placed in charge of a counterterrorism directorate and given the mandate of rooting out those who sought to further break Russia apart. He took a leading role in creating a number of specialized Spetsnaz units to deal with the threat of terrorism and counterinsurgency operations, mainly focusing on the provinces of Dagestan and Chechnya. Throughout the 1990s and into the early 2000s, Grigory had built a name for himself as the go-to person when there was a terrorist group that needed to be dealt with. In the late 2000s and early 2010s, Grigory was promoted to major general and put in charge of FSB’s European operations. He’d led many of the FSB’s efforts in countering NATO’s expansion into Eastern Europe as well the EU’s effort to bring Eastern Europe into the Euro.
Throughout the many years Grigory had served the FSB, he’d constantly made sure his predecessor, Ivan Vasilek, and President Petrov knew he could be trusted. Like them, he was old-school KGB, and he wanted to see Russia return to its former glory. All three of their paths had crossed on many occasions while they’d served in the KGB, but unlike Ivan and Oleg, he had never served directly with Petrov. When the war with NATO had broken out, Grigory had been named Ivan’s deputy, and he was read on to Operation Red Storm for the first time. While the plan looked solid on paper, Grigory knew the Americans far better than Vasilek or Petrov did. He’d spent nearly a decade in America and traveled there on many other occasions, and he knew the Americans wouldn’t be dictated to by Russia or China. He also knew the new American president, Gates, wasn’t a person to be trifled with. He was a hothead, and when he became focused on something, he was like a pit bull that wouldn’t let go.