The Second Chinese Revolution (The Russian Agents Book 5)

by Ted Halstead

  Vasilyev grunted. "You told me you saw Neda safely off in Mexico City. So the money was spent on getting Kharlov back to Moscow?"

  Alina nodded. "Yes. But I'll let him tell you the details himself. I think we'll all have quite a bit of catching up to do once we're back."

  Vasilyev nodded silently.

  Yes. But once they were finished talking, would Vasilyev still have a job?

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  FSB Headquarters

  Moscow, Russia

  Boris Kharlov smiled as Mikhail Vasilyev and Neda Rhahbar walked into the secure basement conference room.

  "Good to see you both!" he said.

  Vasilyev smiled back. "And you as well! I understand getting back was something of an adventure."

  Kharlov sighed. "Yes. But I've been told to keep my mouth shut about the details. I think it's about time I started following orders."

  Neda frowned and shook her head. "I'm not sure that's the right lesson here. If you hadn't taken some initiative, we would have failed in our mission."

  The conference room door opened, and in walked Anatoly Grishkov. As he closed the door behind him, Grishkov said, "I see we've already started arguing. What is today's topic?"

  Before anyone could respond, the door opened again to admit an unsmiling FSB Director Smyslov.

  They all murmured greetings, which Smyslov dismissed with a wave.

  "I will get right to business. I have just met with the President, and most of what I am going to tell you comes straight from him."

  Smyslov paused and pointed at Neda.

  "You alone in this group both followed orders and succeeded in your mission. The President, and I, both congratulate you on your success. He will award you the customary one million American dollars from his personal funds."

  "Director, I am grateful. If I may, I would like to ask just one question. What became of the mission we prepared to carry out in Kazakhstan? Will we go there next?" Neda asked.

  Smyslov started to speak and then frowned and said nothing for a moment.

  "I was about to say that you have no need to know, and the fact that you and Kharlov spent more than a year preparing for that mission entitles you to nothing. Which would have been true," Smyslov said.

  Smyslov paused for a moment to let that sink in.

  "But I am going to tell you nevertheless. Because some here need to learn that there is often more than one way to reach an objective. Sometimes, without making the objective explode," Smyslov said.

  Neda nodded and remained quiet.

  "You and Kharlov were both ready to carry out a complex mission that would have destroyed several nuclear missiles held back by the Kazakh government from the Soviet period. We were confident we could gain you entry to the missile complex and that you would succeed in your mission. The mission planner, however, rated your chances of escape afterward as low," Smyslov said.

  "Alina," Vasilyev said shortly.

  Smyslov nodded. "Yes. Based on her recommendation, we looked for another way to achieve the objective. After some research, we found one. The opportunity arose during the Kazakh Vice-President's recent unofficial trip to Thailand."

  Vasilyev nodded. "Kompromat."

  "Just so," Smyslov said. "I will not go into the details of the blackmail material, which were quite sordid. But they were more than enough to ensure his execution if they had become known to the Kazakh President, Sadykov. Confronted with the video, he agreed to provide us with the access we needed to Sadykov's kitchen to carry out our alternate plan."

  "Poison," Vasilyev said softly.

  "Yes. Mind you, even with access, it was not simple. We suspended one of Sadykov's favorite vegetables in a solution containing the poison for several days until it was infused without visible trace. Of course, colorless and odorless," Smyslov said.

  Vasilyev frowned. "Doesn't Sadykov have a taster?"

  "Indeed he does," Smyslov said with an approving nod. "I hope the rest of you are paying attention to this lesson because the method may come up again. We administered the antidote to this poison to the taster without his knowledge before he ate the test portion of Sadykov's meal."

  Neda asked hesitantly, "But Director, can we be sure the Vice-President will hand over the warheads after he becomes President?"

  Smyslov nodded. "As I said, the kompromat was quite sordid. We could place it on Kazakh websites, and since his country borders Russia, he knows we could have it broadcast on Kazakh TV sets. But none of that will be necessary. The warheads were flown to Russia a few hours ago. You will hear about Sadykov's death from a heart attack and his replacement by the Vice-President from regular media channels later today."

  "And if the new Kazakh President ever gets out of line, we still have the kompromat," Vasilyev said.

  "Just so," Smyslov said with a smile.

  Then he made a wave that included both Vasilyev and Grishkov. "You failed in your mission but followed your orders. As far as we can tell, the Americans have no idea we were behind the assassination attempt on Eli Wade. And, the new Chinese President has told our President that he is satisfied with your efforts. More, that he is happy you failed, and he would have never authorized your mission. Most important of all, he will honor his predecessor's deal to import our oil and gas. So, the President has awarded you each half a million American dollars."

  Vasilyev and Grishkov both looked at each other with relief. Neither of them had been expecting any bonus. Vasilyev, in particular, had been worried about whether he would even be able to continue his career with the FSB.

  Finally, Smyslov turned to Kharlov.

  "Your performance is mixed. On the one hand, you accomplished your mission. On the other, not only did you fail to follow orders. By bringing unauthorized explosives, you were very nearly captured by the Americans. If Alina had not intervened, you and your comrades might have been identified and linked back to us. The consequences could have been catastrophic."

  Kharlov nodded. "Alina has explained this to me. I have no excuse. I can only say that if I am given the opportunity, I will not repeat my mistake."

  Smyslov grunted. "It was only with great difficulty that I persuaded the President to give you that chance. Only my proposal to have Alina take charge of your retraining convinced him."

  Then Smyslov paused and shook his head.

  "Alina was one of the last agents the President personally recruited when he was FSB Director. He has great respect for her capabilities. Remember that if you fail again, it will reflect directly on her."

  "I will not fail either you or her, Director. I swear it," Kharlov said, looking Smyslov in the eye.

  Finally, Smyslov shrugged. "We shall see. In the meantime, you must reimburse the State for the money expended on your rescue. I convinced the President to allow this to be done by forfeiting your salary for the next several years. In the meantime, I believe you have enough saved to get by."

  Kharlov was sure Smyslov knew how much he had in his Moscow accounts down to the last kopeck and simply nodded.

  "Now, I know you have all seen the classified reports about the increased influence of China's military after recent events," Smyslov said.

  They all nodded.

  "However, what you don't know is that the military's influence is even greater than we had first believed. The Communist Party still runs China's economy and sets domestic policy with little military interference. But military and foreign policy are firmly in the hands of China's two leading generals," Smyslov said.

  Then Smyslov paused and waved his hand around the room. "You will be wondering, what does this have to do with us? Well, this. China plans to invade Taiwan, and soon."

  There was a moment of silence, and then Vasilyev asked hesitantly, "But why does that matter to us? And hadn't we seen that as inevitable at some point?"

  "Inevitable, no. There was always the possibility that as China became increasingly prosperous, Taiwan might agree to reunification voluntarily. Taiwan has, after all, inve
sted billions in manufacturing goods in mainland China. Not so long ago, such investments would have been unthinkable," Smyslov said.

  Then he took a deep breath and shook his head. "But we have unmistakable evidence of China's intentions. In particular, a large Chinese order of our planes, helicopters, and other military equipment that can have only one use. Now, you are right that a Chinese takeover of Taiwan doesn't appear to affect us directly. But if you think a little harder, maybe you will see why the President is so concerned."

  Grishkov said, "Won't adding Taiwan's economy and military resources to their own make China a more formidable adversary?"

  Smyslov nodded. "The short answer is yes. Taiwan's lead in several areas of computer technology may be even more important. However, China's sheer size reduces Taiwan's relative importance. So, while we would never have welcomed a Chinese takeover of Taiwan, that's not why the President believes we must act."

  Kharlov said, "Once China is no longer focused on Taiwan, where will its gaze turn next?"

  Smyslov nodded vigorously. "I'm glad to see my instincts were right, and it was worth the trouble to give you another chance. Yes, indeed. The President's predecessor made numerous deals with the Chinese dating back to 2018, giving them a foothold in the Russian Far East. Nearly all focused on resource extraction, and staffed by Chinese citizens."

  Neda said, "I've read about those deals. Weren't the Chinese supposed to be in Russia just temporarily? None of them were made Russian citizens, were they?"

  "They were not," Smyslov replied. "Neither did they return to China. As a result, the Chinese population within Russia, which started at about a million, has roughly tripled."

  Now Vasilyev shook his head. "But Russia is a nation of one hundred fifty million. Surely the President's worries are exaggerated about only a few million Chinese."

  Smyslov shrugged. "Perhaps. But let's start with the figure you just quoted. Russia's population has now dropped to one hundred forty million."

  Vasilyev stared at Smyslov. "How is that possible?"

  "Our population has been dropping for many years. Societal changes, like those in most industrial countries, have resulted in a declining birth rate. Unlike America, true immigration, including citizenship, has not made up the difference. Abuse of drugs and, particularly, alcohol has led to a decline in Russian life expectancy. Finally, the death toll from the pandemic several years ago was more severe than was ever officially acknowledged," Smyslov replied.

  "So, shouldn't we try to address those factors?" Vasilyev asked.

  "Of course," Smyslov said. "But even with our best efforts, with available resources, the current projection is for Russia's population to drop to one hundred twenty-five million by 2050."

  Kharlov nodded. "And with their focus no longer on Taiwan, China will step into that vacuum."

  "Fine," Vasilyev said with a frown. "Let's say the President has some reason to be concerned about the Chinese. Will we then intervene to support Taiwan?"

  "Certainly not," Smyslov replied. "Remember, China is now by far our most important customer for oil and gas. In fact, another reason we are so sure action against Taiwan will come soon is an increase of Chinese orders for fuel types used by military ships and aircraft. Plus, we are making good money selling military equipment to the Chinese. No, we will do nothing overtly."

  "That's where we come in," Grishkov said, shaking his head.

  Smyslov laughed. "Yes, indeed. The President, once again, wishes your assistance. But the burden will not fall on you alone. We are still working on the details. But here is what I know so far…"

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Apartment Building

  Moscow, Russia

  Boris Kharlov looked up at Alina's apartment building and had to admit he was impressed. All glass and steel, he thought it would have been more at home in a city like London or New York.

  Kharlov might have been amused if he'd known that this was the same building housing a man who had provided critical information for his first FSB mission in Ukraine.

  And that Vasilyev and Grishkov's reaction to the building had been much the same as his.

  It would not have surprised him, though, if he'd known that several other top FSB agents resided in the building. Not once he saw its security.

  The building's lobby was dominated by a chrome and glass reception desk. A fit man with dark, close-cropped hair sitting there was, to Kharlov's practiced eye, obviously ex-military. As was a man in a suit sitting on a nearby leather sofa reading a newspaper. And the more casually dressed man looking over a digital display mounted to the wall on the far left corner of the lobby.

  None had the tell-tale bulges in their clothing that would announce concealed weapons.

  Nevertheless, Kharlov was certain all three men were armed and knew how to use their weapons.

  Kharlov paused in front of the desk and took one more look around. Impressive. He wasn't armed. But even if he had been, the three men's tactical positions wouldn't have given him any chance.

  The man at the desk smiled and said, "Mr. Kharlov! You're expected. Please go right on up."

  Then he gestured towards the bank of elevators nearby.

  Moments later, Kharlov was standing at Alina's door. As he lifted his hand to knock, Alina's voice over the intercom next to the door said, "Come in," and a "snick" announced it had been unlocked.

  Kharlov walked through the door and closed it behind him. The bright lights in the hallway left him unprepared for the dimness of the apartment's interior, and he stood still for a moment to give his eyes time to adjust.

  Then Kharlov grinned. Very good. Use every tactical advantage.

  Alina's voice came from a room off the main living area where he was standing.

  "I will be with you in a moment. Feel free to look around."

  Kharlov did just that, being careful to touch nothing or go anywhere but the living room.

  He guessed, correctly, that cameras were letting Alina see his every move.

  Kharlov had spent nearly all of the million American dollars he had earned from his last mission on buying and furnishing what he had thought was a very nice Moscow apartment.

  This one made his look like a dump.

  Kharlov couldn't put his finger on the reason. He had hired a professional decorator, and until this moment, thought she had done an excellent job. There was nothing obvious about the furnishings, flooring, or decorations that could account for it either.

  Kharlov shook his head. Maybe Alina's taste was simply superior.

  Evgeny's comments about Alina's interest in him had stirred conflicting feelings in Kharlov. On the one hand, Alina was undoubtedly attractive.

  On the other, if their relationship became anything but professional, what would happen to Kharlov's career in the FSB if their liaison went sideways?

  Kharlov knew the answer to that.

  Nothing good.

  Maybe Evgeny's guess had been wrong. After all, how well did he really know Alina?

  On the other hand, Kharlov had been told to report to Alina's apartment. Not an office at FSB headquarters.

  Despite his best efforts, Kharlov had been unable to find out anything about Alina besides what he already knew from their missions together. Agents that Kharlov had approached outside the team shut him down as soon as he spoke Alina's name. The last one had warned Kharlov that if he persisted, the agent would be forced to report him.

  All of them showed genuine fear. Of punishment from the FSB?

  Or from Alina?

  Kharlov didn't know. It would plainly have been a mistake to ask.

  A lecture from a Spetsnaz trainer kept running through Kharlov's thoughts. It had been on the psychological aspects of killing. He had emphasized that few women were capable of dealing with the stress of killing people, especially more than once. As evidence, he noted that there had been very few female serial killers.

  Yet, Kharlov knew Alina had killed at least once on their last missio
n. Rumors said she had killed many more.

  The trainer had also underlined the difference in stress produced by killing someone in combat and doing so when the victim was unarmed and the killing premeditated. As was sometimes necessary during Spetsnaz covert missions.

  One point worried Kharlov above all others. The trainer had said that a woman could only engage in premeditated, repeated killing outside of combat with armed opponents if they had been subjected to trauma. Severe enough to detach them from normal psychological restraints.

  Kharlov wasn't sure he believed that. Was this part of the lecture only there to justify why women were so rare in Spetsnaz?

  Besides, the FSB entrusted Alina with some of its most critical missions. Surely they would not do so if she were unstable.

  What if she were able to conceal that condition? Wouldn't the FSB overlook anything as long as Alina produced results?

  Sudden movement at one of the interior doors interrupted his thoughts. It was Alina.

  But what she was wearing, her makeup…she was almost unrecognizable.

  In particular, her dark eyeshadow and carmine lipstick triggered two conflicting feelings in Kharlov.

  On the one hand, desire. On the other, a deep, primitive part of Kharlov's brain was warning him of mortal danger.

  That part quickly proved correct. Faster than Kharlov would have believed possible, he was pressed against the nearest wall with Alina's right hand on his throat.

  Alina's face was inches from his as she hissed, "Do you have any idea how much I risked to save you? The damage to my reputation? The danger I put my best friend in to rescue you?"

  So, Evgeny was Alina's best friend. It made sense. How many others in the FSB could she really respect?

  Kharlov was able to breathe, but just barely. So instead of saying anything, he did his best to nod without making it seem he was trying to break Alina's grip.