End Game

by Alex Lukeman

  "Mister President, as far as I can determine, it is."

  "As far as you can determine." Orlov looked at Kerensky with eyes as cold and blue as Arctic ice. "That's not good enough, Kerensky. You have seen pictures of Belgograd?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then you know we stand on the razor's edge of nuclear war with the United States."

  "Yes, sir."

  "The people are frightened and angry. My generals are angry. They believe America has deliberately attacked us and that their president is lying in an attempt to deceive us. Our forces are mobilizing. The Americans have raised their defensive posture. We are almost at war, a war we both know cannot be won. You understand the seriousness of the situation?"

  "Yes, Mister President."

  A trickle of sweat made its way past Kerensky's left ear and worked its way under the collar of his shirt .

  Orlov slammed his hand down on his desk.

  "Then find me proof the story is true!"

  The words were shouted. Kerensky flinched as droplets of spittle landed on his face.

  "I can hold things off for twenty-four hours at the most," Orlov said, his voice now calm. "After that, the order to strike will be given."

  Kerensky stood frozen to the spot.

  "Well? What are you waiting for? Get going."

  "Sir."

  Kerensky saluted and got out of the office as fast as he could. He walked out of the Senate building and across the Kremlin courtyard to where his car waited. His driver saw him coming, jumped out and held the door open for him.

  "Headquarters," Kerensky said.

  There was almost no traffic outside the Kremlin walls. People were staying home, waiting to see what was going to happen, wondering if the Federation was already at war. In twenty minutes Kerensky was back in his fourth floor office at SVR headquarters in Yasenevo.

  He sat down at his desk. Like his predecessor, he kept a bottle of vodka in the lower left-hand drawer. He opened the drawer, took out the bottle and a glass, and poured a drink. He downed it and refilled the glass.

  Vodka. The old friend of everyone who lived in Russia. He felt the first, soothing flush as the drink took effect. Well, it was going to take more than vodka to solve this particular problem. At least he didn't have to worry about being fired, or the classic bullet in the back of the head in some basement or bleak courtyard. If he couldn't find the answers Orlov needed, he'd be dead anyway. If war began, Moscow would be obliterated in a nuclear fireball.

  My beautiful city , he thought. How has it come to this?

  His phone rang. Not the interoffice phone, but the satellite phone he kept on the desk. Few people knew that number. He picked up the phone .

  "Kerensky."

  "General, this is Director Hood calling you from Langley. It's vital that we have a conversation. There are things we must talk about."

  Hood's words were being simultaneously translated into Russian by an interpreter sitting with him in his office on the seventh floor. Kerensky had never met his opposite number in person or talked with him. In both Russia and America there were many who would see a conversation like this as treason. But on the eve of Armageddon, there wasn't anything to lose.

  "Please wait one minute," Kerensky said.

  He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a small, black box. It had a button and a light on it. He pressed the button and the light glowed red. He pressed the button a second time. The light turned green.

  "Please excuse the delay, Director," he said. "Our conversation is now secure. I admit, I am not as surprised by your call as I might be."

  "General, I'm not going to waste your time. Our nations stand on the brink of catastrophe. I'm calling because I have obtained a recording and a document that prove my government is not responsible for the tragedy of Belgograd."

  "Such proof would be welcome, Director," Kerensky said. "You are aware that many here believe your president is lying."

  "I appreciate your honesty, General. Yes, I know this. I can't say I blame them. But I have definitive, genuine proof that President Hopkins was telling you the truth. Four of our nuclear bombs were stolen by Chechen terrorists. The results of their actions are now well-known. These criminal acts were orchestrated by a man named Gregor Kondor. Perhaps you know of him?"

  "I know of him. Very rich. I consider him a political anarchist. A dangerous man because of his money and ideology. "

  "I have a recording of Kondor admitting his guilt, made only hours ago. I also have a facsimile copy of a diary he kept with details of his plan. I would like to send these to you. I can also send a courier with the original recording and diary for your examination, when I receive it. It is currently over the Atlantic, on its way here."

  "Director Hood, I am willing to consider this information. But I warn you, there is no guarantee it will be accepted. It will be rigorously scrutinized."

  "I understand. I would expect nothing less. All I need is permission for one of our military aircraft to enter your airspace and bring the original materials to you. It's the quickest way."

  "Your military has gone to your defense condition two. You are mobilizing. Obtaining permission at this time is impossible."

  "We are simply responding to your own military actions," Hood said. "He will have identifying codes. You will have full surveillance and he can land anywhere you like."

  "I can assure you, permission will not be granted. Your aircraft would be shot down."

  "What if I send the proof to a neutral country, say, Finland? You could dispatch your own aircraft to pick it up and take it to President Orlov."

  "That would be a satisfactory solution," Kerensky said. "The exchange could be made at the airport in Helsinki."

  "I will make it so," Hood said. "In the meantime, give me a number to send material to you. I will send a digital recording of Kondor's confession and a facsimile of the diary. The diary is quite detailed. Chilling, even. The man was insane."

  "Take this down," Kerensky said.

  He recited the number where Hood could send the recording and diary, along with a separate code marking it as urgent for Kerensky's eyes only.

  "Wait one," Hood said.

  A minute later he was back .

  "The material has been sent."

  "I will examine it immediately. What about the criminal Kondor? Has he been arrested?"

  "Kondor is dead."

  "That is very convenient for you," Kerensky said. "Now he cannot be interrogated."

  "General. I understand your suspicion. I would feel the same way if our positions were reversed, but his death was unavoidable and a result of his own actions. Please examine what I've sent and make up your own mind. This war must be stopped. It falls on us to convince our leaders to pull back from the brink."

  Kerensky laughed. He took a sip of vodka.

  "You have not met our president, have you? He is not an easy man to convince. If this proof is what you say it is, I will do my best to convince him. I, too, have no desire for war."

  "That is all I can ask," Hood said. "You have the number I'm calling from?"

  "Of course."

  "If you can, please keep me informed."

  "I will try, Director," Kerensky said. "It may not be possible."

  "I understand."

  "Goodbye, Director Hood."

  Kerensky broke the connection. A knock came at his door.

  "Come."

  An officer with the single star of a major on his shoulder boards entered the room. He carried a sealed manila envelope in his hand.

  "Sir, this just came through, coded urgent for your eyes only."

  Kerensky took the package.

  "Very well. You are dismissed."

  The major saluted and left the room. Kerensky opened the package and began reading Kondor's diary.

  Chapter 53

  The Gulfstream landed at Andrews and taxied to a hangar where two black Suburbans waited. Two men stood beside the vehicles, watching the plane approach. They
were dressed in dark suits. Both wore sunglasses. A driver waited inside each SUV.

  "Looks like we have a reception party," Ronnie said.

  "Why do these guys always look the same?" Lamont asked.

  "I think they all watch the same movies," Selena said.

  Nick was first off the plane. One of the men stepped forward.

  "Colonel Carter? Director Hood asked us to meet you. I understand you have something for us?"

  Nick took the diary and the tape recorder from his pocket and handed them to the man.

  "Be damn careful with that," Nick said. "Guarding it is the most important thing you are ever going to do. Get it to Director Hood as fast as you can."

  "Yes, sir. On my way."

  He got into one of the Suburbans. They watched him drive away.

  "My name is Atkins," the second man said. "I've been instructed to take you to Director Harker in Virginia."

  "That won't be necessary," Nick said. "We have transportation here. But maybe you could help us get our things from the plane and drive us over to our vehicle."

  "Yes, sir. No problem."

  Soon their bags and weapons were safely stowed in the back of Nick's Suburban. They drove through a sea of activity toward the exit. Everywhere, uniformed personnel moved about with grim purpose. Nick watched a cart loaded with air to air missiles being trundled across the tarmac .

  "Busy out there," he said.

  "Yeah," Ronnie said. "Getting ready for war."

  No one said anything for the remainder of the ride to Virginia House. As they pulled up to the entrance, Stephanie came out to greet them.

  "Welcome back," she said. "I've got coffee and doughnuts inside, if anyone's interested."

  "Lead me to it," Lamont said.

  "Sounds good," Nick said.

  It wasn't until they sat down on the couch in front of Elizabeth's desk that Nick felt the tiredness hit him.

  "You did good work," Elizabeth said. "All of you. Nick, you look like something Burps dragged in."

  "That's about how I feel, Director. What's happening?"

  "Everything you sent came through okay. Langley, the president, the Pentagon, and the other intelligence agencies all have copies of Kondor's confession and his diary. It's proof without doubt that he was behind the theft of the weapons and plotted to provoke world war by setting off those bombs. It's too bad you couldn't bring him back with you. There are a lot of people who would have liked to question him."

  Nick rubbed his chest, bruised and sore from the impact of Kondor's shots.

  "He had a gun hidden. The bastard shot me when we were about to move him. He didn't give us a choice."

  "Did you have to blow up the chalet?" Elizabeth asked. "The Swiss have put two and two together. They're asking a lot of questions."

  "It wasn't our fault. Kondor planted a bomb under the building. I guess he figured someone might come after him, and he was determined not to let them win. There was a timer hidden under the covers of his bed. He activated it while we were talking. When he died, he kicked off the covers. That's when we found it. There was less than a minute left. We almost didn't get out of there before it blew."

  "I see. That explains a lot. "

  "Has it made any difference? What we did?" Ronnie asked.

  "Director Hood talked to his opposite number in Moscow while you were still in the air. As soon as you handed over Kondor's diary and the recording of his confession, they got put on an F-15 for Helsinki. The pilot has instructions to push it. He'll be refueled twice in midair."

  "That's a fast plane," Nick said. "What happens when he gets to Helsinki?"

  "The Russians will have a plane waiting. They'll take the recording and the diary to Moscow and to Orlov. After that, it's anyone's guess."

  "They have to see reason," Selena said. "When they listen to that recording, they'll know it's not a fake. They'll know we didn't set that bomb off in Belgograd."

  "Maybe," Elizabeth said. "Let's hope so."

  "You don't sound very optimistic. Orlov isn't stupid. He must know Russia can't win a war with us."

  "Right now our bombers are holding at failsafe points. So are theirs. Everybody's got their fighters up. Some of these air jocks are flying pretty close to one another. It wouldn't take much to create an accident. If anyone gets trigger-happy, it could start the war. Our subs and theirs are playing hide and seek all over the place. Both sides are set to launch Armageddon at the touch of a button. So, no, I'm not very optimistic."

  "How will we know if they believe Kondor's confession? His diary?" Nick asked.

  "We'll know they believe it if we're all still alive tomorrow," Elizabeth said.

  Chapter 54

  The next morning arrived. No bombs had fallen. Elizabeth had stayed in Virginia and managed three or four hours of restless sleep. She was brewing a fresh pot of coffee when Stephanie arrived.

  "That smells good," Stephanie said.

  Elizabeth poured a cup.

  "Here, take this one."

  "Thanks."

  "This coffee machine was the best investment we ever made," Elizabeth said.

  She filled a cup and took the steaming coffee over to her desk. Her phone rang.

  "It's Clarence," she said. "Let's hope it's good news."

  She picked up.

  "Good morning, Clarence."

  "Morning, Elizabeth," Hood said. "Orlov called Hopkins and told him they were standing down."

  "Thank God," Elizabeth said.

  She gave Stephanie a thumbs up. Hood continued.

  "I talked with General Kerensky. Orlov met with his high command. They went over the information about Kondor. Kerensky didn't say much, but I gather the meeting was heated. In the end, sanity prevailed, and they called a halt to their mobilization."

  "That's the best news I've heard in a long time," Elizabeth said.

  "There's more. Orlov demanded reparations for what happened at Belgograd. His position is that because an American bomb caused the destruction, Hopkins has to take public responsibility. That helps get Orlov off the hook with his own people. He also wants an immediate summit, to discuss nuclear security in general. "

  "How did Hopkins respond to that?"

  "He can't pretend it wasn't one of our bombs. He has enough sense to know the alternative to Orlov's demands is nuclear war. The spin doctors are already at work on what kind of public statements need to be made. As soon as the Russians pulled their bombers back and lowered their alert status, Hopkins took us down to DEFCON 3. As it is, we're not out of the woods yet. Orlov has to sell the proposal to the Russian public. That's not going to be easy."

  "But his military will go along with it?"

  "We have an asset high up in their command structure. An hour ago, he sent a message. There's been a shakeup in the General Staff. These things can go either way in Russia. Orlov isn't Stalin, he can't get rid of all the people he doesn't like or who disagree with him. But he can make changes if the majority of the generals support him. I suspect he's eliminating the hotheads who wanted war. Unless there's a coup, I think we've dodged the bullet."

  "Then it's over."

  "For now. With Russia, it's never over. Not as long as Orlov is in control."

  "Kondor almost succeeded. If he had…"

  "If he had, the world would be at war. Most likely, you and I would be dead by now."

  "I'll never understand people like Kondor," Elizabeth said.

  "That's because you have empathy for others, Elizabeth. You care. People like Kondor are missing that component. All they care about is themselves and doing whatever it is that makes them feel powerful and important. The fact that what they want causes pain and suffering is irrelevant to them. It simply doesn't compute. Everything they do is justified by their twisted ideology."

  "He had everything. He was one of the richest men in the world. Yet he was going to destroy the same society that rewarded him beyond most people's wildest dreams."

  "The man was insane," Hood
said .

  "Maybe not," Elizabeth said. "Sanity is a relative word. A psychopath, yes, definitely. But being a psychopath doesn't make you insane. It only makes you someone who needs to be isolated from society and prevented from doing any damage."

  "I suppose you're right. The problem is that it's hard to spot a psychopath, unless they make it obvious. By then, it's too late."

  "Nick and the rest of my team deserve some kind of official acknowledgment for what they did."

  "I agree with you, but I wouldn't hold my breath, if I were you. Hopkins is a petty man. He has to eat a lot of crow by agreeing to Orlov's demands, and he needs someone to blame. Your people will do nicely, even though they've just prevented a war. I can't see him honoring real heroism. Hopkins thinks patriotism and sacrifice for country is an anachronism. Something that gets in the way of progress, whatever that is."

  "If that way of thinking ever becomes the standard here, our country is in big trouble," Elizabeth said.

  "Fortunately there are still people who believe in the promise of America, in spite of all the wrong turns we've taken in the past. We have to hope they're the ones who decide the future. People who will work to fulfill that promise."

  "I never knew you were an optimist," Elizabeth said.

  "I wouldn't call myself an optimist. I'm not optimistic about my future with Hopkins. I've decided to hand in my resignation before he turns me into a scapegoat for his incompetence in handling this situation."

  Elizabeth was shocked.

  "Hopkins will blame you anyway, Clarence. You know that. Are you sure resigning is the best course of action?"

  "It's been coming for a while. I'd rather have the satisfaction of quitting than giving that horse's ass the pleasure of firing me."

  "What are you going to do? "

  "I think I might take up gardening," Hood said. "Something simple. Plants don't try to sabotage you behind your back."

  Some miles away from Elizabeth's office in Virginia, Vakha Isidrov sat in a cheap hotel room and contemplated the obligations of nokhchalla. It hadn't been easy, but he'd managed to learn the identity of the people who had killed his brothers. Technically they hadn't killed Aslan, not directly, although they'd kept him from fulfilling his destiny in Moscow. Not Aslan, perhaps, but Ruslan's blood was on their hands. This he had learned from a contact in the Hungarian intelligence agency.