The Russian Endgame

by Allan Topol

  To Zhou’s pleasant surprise, Orlov had done exactly what Zhou had asked. He had called his brother and said, “Chill the champagne. I’m coming over this evening.”

  Zhou could’ve asked his brother to come to the Presidential House, but he wanted to be free of Androshka, at least for this evening. He was finding her whining increasingly annoying. What did she think she would find when she moved to China? She should have learned the language. Then she would have friends. She was no longer pleasant to be with.

  Truth is, he brought her with him to Beijing for one thing and one thing only: she could make his stalk harden and stand up. But since his return, often she couldn’t do that. On those occasions when he failed, he was convinced it was her fault. She was too miserable to give him pleasure. Well, she had better improve. China was full of young women with talented mouths and fingers who could succeed and would give anything for the opportunity.

  Zhou was so disgusted with Androshka, that if it weren’t for her brother, whom Zhou needed for one more mission, Zhou would have Androshka killed. He could never permit her to leave the country. She knew too many of his secrets.

  What he would do, he decided, was wait until he was finished with Orlov. Then have her murdered, making it look like an accident.

  Euphoric with Dalton’s assassination, Zhou’s brother opened a bottle of Krug the minute Zhou walked into his mansion. As he raised his glass, Zhou Yun said, “Dalton would have crippled our economy with his sanctions. Good riddance to him.”

  It had been his brother’s words which had given Zhou the idea of assassinating Dalton. Zhou asked, “Will Treadwell be any better

  for us?”

  “I’ve attended business conferences at which he spoke. He was a businessman in California before he went into politics. He’s pragmatic and he understands that his country’s economic health depends upon China’s economic vitality. I once heard him say, ‘For better or worse our economies are joined at the hip. If one catches cold, the other will be sick as well.’ He won’t be a pushover on military matters though. As chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, he engaged in aggressive American defense policy vis-à-vis China.”

  “Good. I enjoy a challenge,” General Zhou said.

  His brother looked alarmed. “For now, we should move slowly to develop a firm and friendly relationship with Treadwell. We must not act precipitously to confront him.”

  “Have I ever done that?” Zhou said, and then he laughed. His brother wasn’t laughing.

  Zhou couldn’t understand why his brother was so hung up on friendship with Treadwell. He guessed it was because his entire focus was on what was good for business and increased profits. He’d lost sight of the larger objective: Chinese political and military superiority, not just an enhanced GNP.

  Zhou had no intention of debating the issue with his brother, who could be unyielding on matters like this. Nor did he have any intention of telling his brother what he planned to do next with Orlov. His brother would never have approved. Well, too bad. He was the President of China. Not his brother.

  Once the champagne was finished, President Zhou rode back to Tiananmen Square and his office. He had summoned the twenty members of the Central Committee to a ten o’clock evening meeting.

  The subject was the assassination of President Dalton. General Zhou had invited Yin Bao, the Intelligence Minister, who had been appointed by President Li to provide his assessment of Dalton’s assassination and what the elevation of Treadwell to the American presidency would mean for Chinese American relations.

  Zhou waited in his office down the corridor from the ornate large conference room used for Central Committee meetings for the others to arrive.

  He removed a Cuban cigar from the humidor, lit it, and took a deep puff. Zhou thought about this evening’s meeting and his objective. Zhou had never liked Yin. The man was a lackey for President Li. He never had an independent or creative thought, but merely parroted what staff members told him. Director of Intelligence was too important to be held by someone like that. And besides, Zhou needed total loyalty from the occupant of the position.

  In their initial meeting, Yin had told Zhou, “Some physicians have questioned the mysterious circumstances of President Li’s death. Perhaps I should launch a comprehensive investigation.”

  Zhou had told Yin to leave it alone, but he was afraid the issue wasn’t closed.

  Zhou could have simply replaced Yin, but then, outside of Zhou’s control, Yin might have become a lightning rod for those who wanted to question Li’s death. No, a more radical approach was needed in dealing with Yin.

  Zhou had another objective this evening. He was aware that nine members of the Central Committee had preferred Mei Ling to become president. And he knew who they were. He had no chance of winning their unqualified support. That meant they would constantly be searching for a way to depose him as president and bring Mei Ling back unless he could instill sufficient fear within them that they would abandon Mei Ling. This evening, he was launching his campaign of fear.

  Captain Cheng came into the office. “They’re all here.”

  “All twenty?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Grumbling about a ten o’clock time for the meeting?”

  “Yes. As you expected.”

  “Too bad. Has Yin arrived?”

  “A couple of minutes ago.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  Lit cigar in hand, Zhou strode confidently down the hall. Captain Cheng was two steps behind.

  When Li had been president, he had sat along one side of the heavily polished walnut table. Zhou, believing he had to assert his authority, reconstructed the room to place a raised platform at one end with a table and a single chair. Zhou’s position.

  While Captain Cheng settled into a seat near the door in the back of the room, Zhou moved to the front, while puffing on his cigar, and climbed the three stairs up to the platform. An armed soldier stood in each corner.

  Zhou called on Yin, who was also seated near the door, close to Cheng.

  “Tell us about the Dalton assassination,” Zhou demanded.

  The Intelligence Minster rose. Briefcase in hand, he approached the table, pulled out some papers, and sat down. He glanced at Zhou and began speaking. “Dalton’s assassination…”

  “Stand when you speak to me and look directly at me,” Zhou commanded.

  Yin stood and started again, “Dalton’s assassination represents one more example of the continuing war which Muslim fundamentalists, Al Qaeda, and Jihadists are waging against the United States. It follows the model of their 9/11 attacks as being completely unanticipated by the Americans. There will be others. The question for us is how…”

  The fool had no idea what he was talking about. He had fallen into Zhou’s trap. Zhou interrupted and said, “Exactly what evidence do you have to support your conclusion that Jihadists were responsible for the assassination?”

  With confidence, Yin replied. “I’ve learned from intelligence assets in the United States that a Pakistani was the shooter. A Koran was found close to his dead body. He took his own life.”

  “So what?” Zhou snapped. “Anybody could have hired a Pakistani and put a Koran there. I have good relations with top people in the Pakistan military. So do many others. Any of us could have been responsible. I can’t have an Intelligence Minister who leaps to unjustified conclusions. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” Yin said meekly.

  “You’re an incompetent fool,” Zhou shouted, “reaching totally unsupported conclusions and wasting our time with them. I have no idea why President Li appointed you to this important position. I want you to apologize now to me and the members of the Committee for your incompetence.”

  For a few seconds, Yin was too stunned to respond. Then, red-faced, he stammered, “I apologize for my incompetence.”

  “Louder,” Zhou ordered.

  “I apologize for my incompetence,” Yin shouted out, his face a picture of hu
miliation.

  “I have no intention of retaining you in this important job.”

  Zhou signaled to Captain Cheng. “Arrest Yin. I want him taken to a prison and interrogated. His report may not have been the result of incompetence. He may be an American agent.”

  Following the script Zhou had prepared, Cheng motioned to two of the soldiers. They closed in on Yin, roughly grabbed him, and dragged him out of the room.

  “Let me make one other point,” Zhou said to the startled members of the Central Committee. “In the United States, the transition from Dalton to Treadwell will be difficult and awkward. This will be a perfect time for China to gain an edge on the American military.”

  “What do you intend to do?” one of the members asked.

  “I’m considering a number of possibilities. You can be sure I’ll come back to you before I take any action.”

  Zhou had no intention of doing that. And he was certain nobody in the room thought he would.

  Paris

  Three days after Dalton’s assassination, Craig picked up the phone in his office and heard, “Mr. Page, please hold for the President of the United States.”

  Over the years Craig had a number of calls and meetings with American presidents, but dealing with the world’s most powerful individual was still exciting for Craig.

  “I’ve been following closely what you’ve done in Europe,” Treadwell said. “Stopping the attack on the Vatican and the takeover of Southern Spain was a tremendous accomplishment.”

  “Thank you, sir. I was both shocked and saddened to hear about Dalton’s assassination.”

  “These are difficult times here in the United States. I’m calling to ask you to come to Washington and meet with me. Quite frankly, I need your help, and I would like to talk to you about that.”

  Well there it was, Elizabeth was right, Craig thought. “When would you like to see me?”

  “Can you fly tomorrow morning?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. President. I’ll be on the morning nonstop on Air France. Should arrive in Washington around two in the afternoon.”

  “Perfect. I’ll have a car and driver meet you and bring you to the White House.”

  Craig immediately called Elizabeth. “I’m glad I didn’t bet you.

  I could have lost a hundred euros.”

  “He offered you the CIA job?”

  “Not yet. Just called to invite me to come for a meeting. I’m flying to Washington tomorrow morning. Can you join me?”

  “I’d love to. It’ll be nice moving to Washington.”

  “He hasn’t offered me the job yet.”

  “He will. And I assume you’ll take it.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re kidding. Right?”

  “I’ve come to like our lifestyle here in Paris. There are plenty of challenges in the job. And I hate the Washington bureaucracy. How do you feel about it?”

  “As long as we’re together, I’ll be happy in either place. My work will be the same. So it’s your decision.”

  As soon as Craig finished the call with Elizabeth, he summoned Marie from his agency’s high tech center.

  “Have you had any success deciphering the encrypted disc from General Zhou’s conversation with his brother in Beijing, made when Zhou was still in Bali?”

  She looked chagrined. “We have people working around the clock. The Chinese used a very sophisticated system. So far we’re at a dead end.”

  “You think the CIA could do it?”

  “It might take a little while. But they would have a much better chance.”

  Craig continued to believe in his gut that this conversation between General Zhou and his brother was important. Craig recalled what Betty had said about Norris. If the CIA Director had lost his grip, with Betty’s help, Craig might be able to make an end run around Norris and get the conversation deciphered. And if he became CIA Director, he could give the order to the agency’s techies to do it ASAP.

  That evening while they were at home packing, Elizabeth’s cell phone rang. Craig heard her say, “Yes. Yes. Of course. I’ll be right there.”

  She hung up the phone and grabbed her coat. “It was Mei Ling. She has some important information for me.”

  “You want me to come with you?”

  “I better go alone.”

  Mei Ling was still staying in room 610 of the Hotel Le Burgundy. Elizabeth tapped twice on the door and said, “It’s Elizabeth.”

  She heard the sound of two dead bolts and a chain being removed.

  “Are you sure you weren’t followed?” Mei Ling asked anxiously.

  “Positive. What happened?”

  “I received a call from Qua Ping, a friend on the Central Committee. He told me that President Zhou said he has good relations with top people in the Pakistani military and he could have been responsible for President Dalton’s assassination.”

  Her words rocked Elizabeth back on her heels. “Did he elaborate on that?”

  “No. But he also announced that he’s planning to take advantage of American weakness during the transition to launch a military action against the United States. Meantime, to consolidate his hold on power, Zhou’s moving to purge officials who had worked with President Li. He humiliated the Intelligence Minister, Yin Bao, before the Central Committee, had him arrested for being an American spy, and executed by a firing squad. He announced to all the members of the Central Committee that Yin confessed to being an American spy. The man had been tortured so badly that he could barely stand before the firing squad. Zhou’s a monster. You and Page have to find a way to stop him.”

  “I’ll report all this to Craig. I know that he’ll do what he can.”

  “Page has to succeed. Zhou has to be stopped.”

  As Elizabeth rode back to the apartment, she thought about the effect Mei Ling’s words would have on Craig’s decision. It would make him more likely to take the CIA job if Treadwell offered it because it would give him the best platform for stopping General Zhou and gaining his revenge.

  On the other hand, he despised CIA bureaucracy. She had learned long ago that she could never predict with confidence what Craig would do.

  Beijing

  With pride, Orlov recounted in detail for Zhou everything he did to arrange President Dalton’s assassination. The two of them were alone in Zhou’s office.

  At the end, Orlov said, “In summary, I believe it was the perfect operation.”

  To Orlov’s astonishment, Zhou was smiling. That alarmed Orlov. He had never seen the man smiling before. He was on guard, fearful Zhou’s objective was to suck him into some kind of trap.

  “You did a good job,” Zhou told Orlov. “With Dalton’s assassination.”

  “Thank you,” Orlov said. “Now I want to arrange for you to come to Moscow and meet with President Kuznov.”

  “I intend to do that,” Zhou said. “I am interested in forging an alliance with your president.”

  “Good. Let’s set a date.”

  “I’m not quite ready,” Zhou said. “I need you to do one other thing first.”

  So there it was, Kuznov was right. Zhou was yanking him around. But what could he do about it?”

  “I thought we had an understanding.”

  The smile was gone, replaced by a hard, cruel look. “Then you thought wrong.”

  “Perhaps you can have the meeting with Kuznov in Moscow. Afterwards, I’ll do this additional thing.”

  “That’s not possible. I had you kill Dalton to prove yourself. Now I’ll let you and President Kuznov share in something incredibly valuable.”

  Orlov recalled Kuznov’s words when he told the Russian president that Zhou wanted him to assassinate Dalton. “Does Zhou really want to have an alliance with Russia? Or does he just want you to do his dirty work?”

  Kuznov would not be happy that Orlov hadn’t been able to arrange Zhou’s visit to Moscow after the Dalton assassination. He wasn’t looking forward to being the messenger for that news. But for no
w, he had to listen to Zhou. Hear what he wanted.

  As if reading Orlov’s mind, Zhou said, “This is the last thing I’ll ask you to do before I come to Moscow to meet with President Kuznov. And when you hear what it is, you’ll realize how beneficial this will be to Russia as well as China.”

  “What is it?”

  “The United States has developed, but not yet built, a new class of sophisticated long-range missiles. If China and Russia had this technology, then China could launch attacks against Japan and Taiwan, and Russia could launch attacks against Eastern Europe, knowing that the United States wouldn’t dare retaliate for fear that we’d launch our own long-range missiles against American targets. So this technology is critical to our alliance.”

  Orlov was puzzled. Zhou continued, “Do you know what I’m saying?”

  “I hear you, but what do I have to do with this?”

  “I want you to steal the American technology for these long-range missiles. And provide it to Kuznov as well as to me.”

  “Let me be clear. I have had no education or training in technology.”

  Zhou interrupted him. “But I presume that your KGB masters gave you lots of training in how to steal American secrets.”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Then I will have you meet with Jiang Hua of the Technical Branch of the Chinese Defense Ministry. He’ll explain to you exactly what you need to know to steal this technology. I’ll attend this briefing. It’s important for me to understand it as well.”

  Zhou pressed the intercom and said, “Get Jiang Hua over to my office.”

  While they were waiting, Zhou said to Orlov, “Have you seen Androshka?”

  “The last time I was here. Not yet on this visit. I came to you from the airport. I plan to see her after our meeting.”

  “Is your sister happy in Beijing?”

  What an explosive question, Orlov thought. He had spent enough time with Zhou to realize that the man had a massive ego. If Orlov said “no,” Zhou would likely expel Androshka from China or perhaps kill her. He couldn’t let that happen, not only because he loved Androshka but because having her in Zhou’s bed gave Orlov a