by Dale Brown
"I heartily agree," Filippov said warmly. "Russia pledges its support to assist in these efforts. We want peace as much as Germany, and we have the political and cultural ability to influence Serbian actions that are not in keeping with peaceful resolution of conflicts. We can certainly help keep any radical Serb elements from disturbing free trade and communications in the region."
"That would be a generous and most valuable contribution to peace," Schramm said. "But, sir, I feel there must be a quid pro quo. What can you suggest?"
11 Germany is nothing but a stabilizing, independent-minded, powerful force in Europe," Filippov said as sincerely as he could, his mind fairly whistling with the effort to think of the right amount of sugar and bullshit to feed Schramm. Filippov's aide was staring, dumbfounded, as his superior was virtually inventing a Russo-German alliance of some sort while standing wet in his bathrobe in his bedroom! "It is the largest and most powerful nation in Western Europe, and it deserves a leadership position far greater than the scraps left to you by the United States and NATO. But now with the United States turning its back on the Western alliance, it is clear to me that Ger-
many must take its rightful place as the leader of the European Union. Let the North Atlantic Treaty Organization dissolve. It has served its purpose and has become an outdated, unwieldy, even dangerous anachronism."
"So if Germany reins in the Western European nations, Russia will contain
and control the Eastern European nations?" Schramm asked. "Germany and Russia work together to create a lasting peace in Europe?"
"Exactly. Well put, Minister," Filippov said. "There is no reason we should work at cross purposes when we are being pulled together by common goals and common enemies."
"Some will say this is too similar to the Axis alliance before the Great Patriotic War."
"Our countries are radically different now-the world is different," Filippov responded. "There are no Third Reich, fascist, or communist regimes in place in our countries. We are all stable, democratic, open societies ruled by law and by the people, not by megalomaniac dictators. And I do not propose an alliance for now, although one can certainly be contemplated in the near future. All I suggest is that we use our individual influences to work together to bring peace and stability to eastern and southern Europe."
Schramm nodded in agreement. "I like the sound of this, Mr. Filippov," he said. "We work together to bring peace to the Balkans, not apart. We throw off the old ties and forge newer, stronger ones together."
"Exactly," Filippov said. His aide had been furiously writing on a pad of paper, and he finally showed his superior his notes, trying to toss out any other ideas as long as he had the German foreign minister's ear. "And there are many other areas of cooperation we can explore, as well," Filippov said, his mind racing again, trying to think of more avenues of cooperation that could keep this sudden foreign affairs windfall on firm ground. "Such as?"
Filippov read the third or fourth line of his aide's notes, then looked up in a wide-eyed expression.
The note said simply, Kazakov's oil?
He paused, again writing and rewriting the script in his head a dozen times, before saying, "Such as Europe's reliance on so
much Middle Eastern oil. Russia is a major world oil exporter, yet Europe buys less than ten percent of its oil from us. Germany gets less than twenty percent of its oil from Russia, and we are your neighbors! Correcting that situation would offer enormous advantages to both our economies."
"I think this is a matter to be discussed in a meeting of our commerce and energy ministers, Mr. Filippov-2'
"It is a foreign relations matter as well, Minister Schramm," Filippov interjected. "We know why Europe imports little oil from Russia-recent history will certainly not convince some persons in our respective countries to become too closely linked. That is understandable. But look at current events, Minister. Europe cast its lot with the United States for its longterm military and economic security, and it now appears that gamble has lost. The United States no longer needs Germany.
"Russia knows better, sir. Russia has natural resources, raw materials, more than any nation on Earth-including petroleum, massive reserves that cannot even be fully explored for two generations, let alone tapped. The known Caspian Sea oil reserves are five times greater than those in the Persian Gulf, and only a fourth of the oil fields have even been fully explored."
"Yet Russia exploits these reserves only for itself," Schramm pointed out. "It is fine for you to speak of tapping these fields-but then all pipelines lead only to Russia, to Samara or Novorossiysk."
"Exactly so, Minister," Filippov said. "But we have a plan to invest over a billion dollars in the next year to build a pipeline linking the Black Sea with the Adriatic Sea. We have some influence in Bulgaria; Germany has considerable influence with Albania. If the United States leaves NATO and leaves Europe, as our information suggests, they will abandon any plans to build a base in Vlore, and Greece and Turkey will lose their great benefactor and will have to fend for themselves. Turkey will certainly leave Albania and Macedonia to their own fates."
"You are proposing a Russian oil company build a pipeline from the Black Sea to the Adriatic?" Schramm asked incredulously. "A private company, I assume? Gazprom. only builds
pipelines in Russia. LUKoil wanted to build a pipeline through Ukraine and Poland to the Baltic Sea, but its investors scattered after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and the company is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. That
leaves. . ." There was a pause, and Filippov heard a muted gasp. "You're not suggesting Metyorgaz? Pavel the Playboy?"
"I'd prefer not to reveal too many details about the proposal for now, Minister," Filippov interjected. He was surprised as hell when Schramm mentioned Metyorgaz, Kazakov's oil company cum drug distribution front company. But then again, Germany was very closely linked with Albania, and it certainly had a major presence in the Balkans. They would certainly be aware of any large-scale development projects proposed for the region. And Kazakov was an international crime and business figure-they certainly would be on the alert for anything he might be involved in. "I will say that Russia is committed to developing the Caspian Sea petroleum resources and serving all of Europe with inexpensive oil. That is of great benefit to all of us. Russia is securing commitments from many different sources to do just this, and we look to the leaders in the European Union to help us."
"You sound like a sales brochure now, Herr Filippov," Schramm said, with a nervous chuckle. "Germany is indeed looking for safe, secure, reliable sources of energy. Our dependence on Middle East oil is not desirable, yet it is a relatively cheap and reliable source-2'
"As long as the United States secures peace in the Middle East," Filippov interjected. "What if the United States withdraws from the Middle East as we see they have done in Europe? The price of oil will skyrocket, and supply will be in greater jeopardy. Germany needs to secure its own source of oil, right here in Europe, not the Middle East. The Caspian Sea oil reserves are the answer. The problem is, what will Turkey do with oil transiting the Bosporus Straits if instability sets in? Where will you go to get oil from Asia? To Syria? Israel-if it even exists in five years? Will you need to invade Turkey in order to get oil shipments through the Bosporus?"
There was a lengthy pause from Bonn. Filippov was going to ask Schramm if he was still on the line when the German
foreign minister finally asked, "So the attack against Albania was not a retaliatory strike, but only the beginning of a campaign to secure land and rights to build this pipeline to Europe?"
"I cannot comment further on this morning's events," Filippov repeated. He certainly could not-he had no idea what had happened except that a NATO radar plane was a burning hunk of metal in Macedonia. But his word rang true, loud and clear. A secret attack on Albania to secure pipeline rights? Kazakov was just crazy enough to do something like that ...... As for the rights to build a pipeline-we do not want bloodshed. We hope to convince th
e respective governments in southern Europe to participate in this lucrative and important expansion."
"I see," Schramm said woodenly. Any person could hear the words between the words, the thinly veiled threat. "We will talk more of this, Minister Filippov."
Filippov hung up the phone, feeling as drained and shaky as if he had just run a two-kilometer sprint. "What ... in ... hell is going on?" he shouted to his aide. "What in hell just happened?"
"It sounded to me," his aide replied with a smile, "that you have just negotiated an alliance with Germany to divide the Balkans between you, sir."
"But what about Albania?" Filippov asked. "What happened in Albania?"
The aide shrugged and replied, "Does it matter now, sir?"
Zhukovsky Might Research Center, Bykovo (Moscow), Russia
Several days later
"Everyone freeze! This is a raid! No one move!"
The uniformed Spetsnaz shock troops burst into the Metyor Aerospace building without warning, automatic weapons drawn, thirty minutes past midnight. They quickly fanned oat through the first floor of the building. They were followed by plainclothes Glavnoe Razvedivatel'noe Upravlenie (GRU), General Staff Intelligence Directorate, agents, with bulletproof vests under their long coats, carrying small automatic pistols.
Pyotr Fursenko and Pavel Kazakov were sitting in Fursenko's office when the agents burst in without any further warning, guns leveled. Kazakov was casually sipping a glass of fine French sherry and enjoying a Cuban cigar; Fursenko was nervously guzzling coffee and chain-smoking bitter Egyptian cigarettes. "How much longer were you going to make us wait?" Kazakov asked, with a smile. They did not answer, but roughly hauled both of them to their feet, out of
the office, and out to the main hangar floor.
There, surrounded by plainclothed agents and uniformed Spetsnaz special forces commandos, was Sergey YeJsk, President Sen'kov's national security advisor, and Colonel-General Valeriy Zhurbenko, chief of the general staff. Fursenko looked at both men in wide-eyed shock. Pavel Kazakov merely smiled and looked directly at YeJsk and Zhurbenko, in turn.
Yejsk nodded to the officer in charge of his detail, and he had his men roughly search both civilians. Fursenko looked
horrified, his body jerking away at every soldier's touch; Kazakov merely allowed the search without resisting, smiling confidently at Yejsk. The soldiers put the two men's hands up to the backs of their heads, then slapped the hands with the barrels of their rifles to warn them to keep them there. When the soldiers were finished, Yejsk stepped over first to Kazakov, who looked directly back at him, and then over to Fursenko, who looked very much like a doe caught in headlights.
Ycjsk stepped closer to Fursenko until he was almost nose to nose with him and asked, "Do you know who I am?" The scientist nodded. "Do you know who these men are?" This time a shake of his head. "They are the men that will tear this building apart piece by piece, take you to prison, and throw you naked into a cold four-by-four-foot cell if I do not like the answers you give to my questions. Do you understand?"
Fursenko nodded so hard, every soldier in the hangar could see it. Kazakov merely smiled. "That's an easy one," he said. "Are you done? Can we go now?" His guard whacked him on the side of his head with the barrel of his rifle.
"I will give you an easy one, Doctor-where is the bomber?" "Which bomber?" Now it was Fursenko's turn to get a shot to the head.
A soldier ran up to Zhurbenko and whispered in his ear. "What is the combination to that door lock, Doctor?" Zhurbenko asked. Fursenko gave it to him instantly, and moments later they had the secure hangar door open and the lights on. Inside they found nothing but an aircraft skeleton, roughly resembling the Metyor- 179 bomber, with several large pieces of composite material, wiring, and engine parts scattered around the polished floor. "What is that?" YeJsk shouted.
"Our latest project, the Metyor-179. It didn't work," Fursenko replied uneasily.
"The real Metyor- 179. Where is it?"
"It's right there, sir," Fursenko replied. "That's all there's left of it."
"Ni kruti mn'e yaytsa! Don't twist my balls!" YeJsk stepped up close to Fursenko and slapped him backhandedly across the face. "One more time, Doctor-where is the Metyor- 179?"
"Stop hitting the poor doctor on the head, Ycjsk," Kazakov said. "You don't want to ruin that fine brain of his."
"Zakroy yibala! Shut your fucking mouth!" YeJsk shouted. "I should do the world a favor and put a bullet in your brain right now!"
"That's not why you came here, Yejsk, or we'd be dead already," Kazakov said. "But of course, then you would be, as well." His eyes fell, and he motioned down, inviting Ycjsk to look. Yeisk and Zhurbenko glanced down at their crotches and saw tiny red dots of light dancing on their clothing right near their genitals. They looked at all the soldiers in the hangar and saw red laser dots on their heads, their shoulders, and their crotches--every man had at least three dots on him, all centered on areas not protected by bulletproof vests.
"You dare threaten meT' Yeisk cried out, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. "I will tear down everything you own and dump it into the Black Sea, and then I will have your broken corpses tossed on top of it all."
"Well, well, General Yejsk, you are beginning to sound just like a gangster," Kazakov said. His eyes narrowed, and the casual, relaxed, amused smile disappeared. "We stop the bullshit now, Yejsk. You came here on the orders of the president to find out what we're doing and to get in on the action." YeJsk glared at Kazakov, but Kazakov knew that he had guessed correctly. "Now, I suggest we send all of these security men home for the evening, and let's talk business."
"You had better cooperate with us, or you'll wish you were back humping goats in Kazakhstan," YeJsk said angrily. With a wave of his hand, Yejsk dismissed the Spetsnaz troops, leaving only two personal bodyguards. He could see none of Kazakov's men in the rafters anymore-but they hadn't seen them up there the first time, either. The rumors were obviously true-Kazakov had an army of former Spetsnaz commandos, well-trained and now well-paid and loyal, working for him.
"Where is the bomber, Pavel?" Zhurbenko asked. "We know it departed here two hours before the attack against Kukes, Albania, and now it's missing."
Kazakov lit up a cigar, then offered one to Zhurbenko and
Yejsk-Zhurbenko accepted. "It's safe, being hidden in several different secret locations in three or four different countries."
"What in hell do you think you're doing?" Yejsk thundered. "Conducting your own little foreign policy campaign, your own little imperialistic war? Don't tell me you actually loved your father so much that you stole a stealth bomber and killed hundreds of men, women, and children to avenge him?"
"I wouldn't bother to pick up the phone to save my father," Kazakov said, a malevolent grin on his face. "Besides, he died precisely the way he wanted to die-maybe not with his boots on, but at least within spitting distance of his enemy. He probably called them names just before they put a rope around his neck-that would appeal to his sense of defiance. I've got better things to do with my time and money than launch off on some romantic quest to avenge a man who didn't care one shit about me."
"Then what are you doing?"
"I am creating a favorable economic and political climate for myself-and if you and that patsy Sen'kov were smart, a favorable economic climate for Russia, too," Kazakov said.
"How? Are you going to bomb every national capital in the Balkans and the Transcaucasus, just to lay down some pipe?" "I won't have to," Kazakov said. "The raid on Kukes was a
warning. Unless you blabbermouths leak the information sooner and reveal me, I will go to the Albanian and Macedonian governments and make the same offer to them. If they refuse my generous offer, they will suffer the same fate."
"You're insane!" YeJsk retorted. "You expect one aircraft to bomb two sovereign governments into submission so you can build a pipeline through their countries?"
"I am hoping Russia will intervene," Kazakov said. "Russia
should come to those countries' assistance and guarantee their security. With Russian troops firmly but discreetly in place, the security of both those republics and my pipeline will be assured. In a year, the pipeline will be in place and we can all start making money."
"This is the most asinine idea I have ever heard!" Yejsk said. "Do you just expect these governments to roll over and play dead? What about-T'
All,
"NATOT' Kazakov intedected. "You tell me, Comrade National Security Advisor-will
NATO be a factor?" He smiled when he saw Yejsk look away, lost in thought-his intelligence information was accurate. The United States was indeed pulling out of NATO and leaving Europe. This was truly the opportunity of a lifetime, and finally some high-ranking members of the Russian government were beginning to notice it, too. "Who else? Germany? I have information that says that there is an extraordinary level of cooperation growing between Russia and Germany, now that the United States is removing itself from Europe and NATO."
"So why do we need you, Kazakov?" Yejsk asked angrily. How in hell did this punk gangster know so much? "You're nothing but a drug dealer. Why does Russia need any cooperation from you and Fursenko's pretty toy?"
"Go ahead and try," Kazakov said. "Try to march Russian Army troops into Macedonia now, without an invitationGreece and Turkey will declare war, and it might drag the United States back into Europe and the alliance. As I understand it, the United States hasn't left NATO yet-you will certainly give them a reason to stay. Invade Albania, and Germany will feel threatened and may break off your new little d6tente. You need me, Yejsk. You need the Metyor- 179 to perform precision, devastating, and most important, deniable destruction in the Balkans and the Transcaucasus. If the republics believe you are at all behind this, the game is up. But if you make them believe that they need Russia's help, you assert control over your former sphere of influence again, and I get the economic, military, and political stability I need to invest two billion dollars into the region."