Black Ghosts

CHAPTER 14

Edward walked through the Alexandrovsky Gardens, across the Square to Gorky Street. He soon identified the Hotel Intourist and went inside to find the restaurant. The menu was posted on a board outside, and he stood there reading it for a minute or two. A man approached and stood by him. “See anything that whets your appetite?”

“Not really,” Edward replied truthfully.

“There is a bakery on Pushkin Street. Perhaps you’ll find what you’re looking for there.”

“Perhaps I will.”

“Left on Gorky,” said the man, pointing at the main entrance. “Take the first right, then the first left. It’ll be on your right.” Then he turned away as if they had never met and wandered off into the restaurant.

Edward followed the directions. He knew they were testing to see if he was bringing a tail with him or leading his contact into a trap. The method was well known and used by every intelligence agency worth its salt, and yet it was foolproof. The counter-surveillance team would consist of at least five people and two cars, as well as whomever he was to meet with. The fact that they were taking precautions made him feel better; if this were a trap, none of it would be necessary.

Edward walked at an easy pace, trying to look inconspicuous. The buildings along Pushkin Street were all quite anonymous, with few signs to say what they were, not that he could have read the signs had there been any. He wondered how easy it was going to be to find a bakery. He thought he should be looking for a shop with a line of people outside. Weren’t Russians supposed to have to line up for everything? But there were no lines of people anywhere in sight. He kept walking.

In the end it was the smell that gave it away. He was passing a blank storefront when he caught the unmistakable aroma of fresh-baked bread, which reminded him tantalizingly of the bistro in Utah. He stopped, looked in the building’s darkened windows and saw rows of desks with office staff seated at them. He glanced up and down the street. A couple of doors back the way he had come, he saw someone staring at him. From the man’s intense expression, it was obvious that this was Edward’s contact. He slowly walked up to him.

“Looking for what?” the man asked.

“A bakery.”

“The bakery is closed today. But I can recommend another one, by the statue of Prince Dologurky in Soviet Square.” The man pointed up the street, in the direction Edward had been walking. “Take the first left, then turn right on Gorky Street.” Abruptly the man turned and walked away. Soon Edward was back on Gorky Street, heading north toward Soviet Square. Cars sped past on his left. He was vaguely aware of a car that had slowed at the curb behind him. A statue came into view, of a man bearing a shield and riding on a horse. That must be Prince Dologurky, he thought.

Suddenly things started happening very quickly. The car which had been trailing him overtook him, then slowed to a halt five feet ahead. The rear passenger door opened and a large man got out. Holding the door open, he gestured to Edward to enter. At that moment, another man walking behind Edward caught up with him and, pressing him in the back, guided him to the car. As he bent to enter, Edward felt himself being expertly frisked. Then he felt the man’s hand on his head, pushing him quickly and efficiently into the car’s back seat. He found himself seated next to a tall, thin man on the far side, and then the man who had frisked him got in beside him. The one holding the door slammed it shut and jumped into the front passenger seat. The car gathered speed. The entire capture, as they call it in trade lingo, had taken five seconds or less, and it would have taken a trained observer to notice that it was anything more than just a question of offering a friend a ride.

Edward recognized the technique. He had done it many times and had filled just about every one of the team’s positions, including that of host — which in this case must be the role of the tall, slim man on his left. The man who had climbed in after Edward held a gun to his ribs. He said something in Russian to the slim man.

“He asks that you put your hands where he can see them. He said you’re wearing some sort of belt. And that you have, or rather had, a gun.”

“It’s a money belt.”

More words were exchanged in Russian, and the gun stopped pressing against him. The slim man extended his hand. “My name is Sokolov. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Larry.”

Edward shook the proffered hand, wondering in a flash if he should reveal his true identity. He decided he would. If this Sokolov was on his side, then he should know who he was dealing with. If not, then Edward was already dead.

“Larry couldn’t make it. My name is Edward.”

“Da, da,” the man said, nodding. “I learned from our friend Mr. Donoven that you had taken Larry’s place.”

“Did you kill Donoven?” Edward asked, unsure whether the mention of the man’s name was a veiled threat of some kind.

“No, one of my associates in the CG did.”

“So you are with the Black Ghosts?”

“Indeed, indeed I am. I am a colonel in the armored divisions and my emergency posting is with the Black Ghosts.” Then he lapsed into silence.

Edward tried to fathom what this silence meant. Was there a hint of wistfulness in the colonel’s voice, indicating that he was less than happy with his role in the Black Ghosts? Or did he remain silent simply because there is nothing much to say to a man who is already dead? Playing for time, Edward said he nearly hadn’t made the rendezvous because of almost missing his contact at the bakery. “I was looking for people lining up for their bread,” he said.

Sokolov smiled sadly. “You see what Russia has become. We used to wait in the queue for our bread. Now there are no queues, but there is no bread either. This is called progress.”

“Where are we going?” Edward asked as the car turned a corner.

“Nowhere special,” said Sokolov. “In fact, nowhere at all. The safest place for us to talk is right here in this car. Our companions are my most trusted allies. If we are not safe with them, we are safe with nobody. We are going to ride around the city for a while, then we will drop you at your hotel. Is that a satisfactory arrangement?”

“Suits me, as long as I get my gun back,” Edward said with cautious optimism. So far, he hadn’t felt any more threatened than is natural when you are riding around a foreign city with four strangers, some or all of whom are certainly armed.

“Of course, that goes without saying. Now to business,” said Sokolov. “You want to know why I called this meeting.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Quite so. Donoven informed you, so I understand, about the plan of the Black Ghosts. I, for better or worse, am part of that plan. Why, you may ask? The answer is that I am patriotic. I believe in a strong and powerful Russia, for the good of the Russian people and their neighbors. What we have now is a repetition of history, a weak government like the German Weimar government, run by corrupt politicians who are lining their pockets. They live like czars while our people starve. What Russia needs is a strong central leadership. This, at least, we had under communism, whatever the many faults of that system. In the absence of such leadership, Russia has crumbled into anarchy. Too much freedom…”

“Save your breath,” Edward interjected. “You won’t convince me there is such a thing as too much freedom. I’m an American, remember.”

“Precisely, and I’m a Russian, which is not the same. We cannot have what you spent two hundred years building handed to us overnight. Everything you have, you earned. Our people are like children: They were taken care of first by the czars and then by the Communist Party.”

“I’d rather be an orphan.” Edward grimaced.

“They are orphans now. Russian law has always been lenient, but its implementation has been stringent. What we have now is what you call a free-for-all, where the only ones that prosper are the criminals and parasites. The police state is the only alternative. Democracy does not work here; it’s foreign to our nature. Russia was built by the czars and will return to her former glory only when the czars, or some other kind of benign dictatorship, return to take up the scepter. General Rogov’s plan is a means to that end.”

“Then we are on opposite sides,” said Edward.

“Yes and no. I agree with what General Rogov says. However, I have learned that our esteemed leader, whom I revered as precisely the powerful dictator Russia needs, has become corrupted by his power. In fact, it is not an exaggeration to say that our general has become power-mad. He spent six years in a Siberian gulag and is no longer the man I knew when he first went there.”

“Power corrupts,” said Edward.

Sokolov frowned. “That axiom is not one that I personally accept. However, in this particular case, I am afraid it does fit the facts. I have come to the conclusion that, for the good of Russia, Rogov must be stopped. This is where I am hoping you might be able to help”.

“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Us Americans, as you know, we aim to please,” said Edward.

“I do know. I got a degree in political science at Berkeley.” Sokolov smiled for the first time. Edward liked what he saw. He could get to like this guy, he thought.

“Listen, we already have the basic outline of Rogov’s plan. What we need is precise dates, times, locations. Only then can we plan any kind of response.”

“That will not be easy. General Rogov is a secretive man. He has revealed only the bare outline of the plan, giving precise details only as and when they are needed. Nevertheless, there are a few details I can give you now, and I will keep you informed as soon as anything new comes to light.”

“By the way, if Donoven told your people about me, won’t they be looking for me?”

“No, he didn’t tell anyone about you. I found out from his papers. I kept them to myself, along with the contact numbers to Larry and a few other things. I turned in all the money he had, which proved to the general that I’m trustworthy.”

“Okay. So bring me up to date, then.”

“The operation in fact started some time ago. Through the use of several commando units and the bought help of the local Mafia, we carried out terrorist acts under the name of the Chechen freedom fighters and other undergrounds. That created a need for heightened security around key installations. The Supreme Command has called for the deployment of infantry units and tank battalions with artillery support to carry out the so-called reinforcement of civil stability. We, I mean the CG, have people in almost every level of the military. We have managed to assign units whose commanders and part of their command staff are members of the CG for the job. So as of now we are either in position or about to take position around all vital installations.”

“So it’s the government that you are out to topple who are in fact putting you in a position to do just that.”

“Precisely.” There was an aura of pride on Sokolov’s face which worried Edward.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked. “You seem to be extremely proud of your former alliance. I mean, you are aware that if we do succeed it will be the end of the so-called CG. That is what I’m going to try and bring about. If you’re going to change your mind on me, do it now, before I get any of my men into harm’s way. You are an officer, you know what I mean.”

Sokolov smiled. “I’m sorry. You are one hundred percent right. But you must understand that what I’m now trying to stop I did help to put together. And you must admit it’s a very good plan.”

“It is indeed. The more I hear about it, the more I realize that without you we would not be able to do much.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Sokolov drew a silver cigarette case from his inner jacket pocket and offered one to Edward. “Have one, they’re French. They know how to make cigarettes that you know will kill you.” After lighting up he went on. “The main operation will start just before the arrival of your president for the signing of the Mutual Verification Treaty on the twenty-eighth of March.”

“Aha,” Edward said, as if he had just hooked a big fish.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just knew it had to coincide with something big. It’s the nature of conspiracies to ride on the tail of some other event.”

“Right. The more secure President Konyigin thinks he is,” Sokolov explained, “the stronger Rogov will be, since all the troops brought in as reinforcements will be Rogov’s. By the time the U.S. president lands, Sheremetyevo Airport will be secured by the CG, as will the Kremlin itself.

“With the U.S. president held hostage on the tarmac at Sheremetyevo, Moscow will be safe from Western attack. The Russian president will be taken prisoner in the Kremlin, from which the new ruler’s orders will emanate all across the country. We have already set up the communications array we stole from the U.S. It requires one more piece, the computer card that houses the activating codes, without which the entire structure is just so much scrap metal. Once the card is in place, the array will be used to block all media broadcasts to and from Russia, and instead to provide disinformation as required. And eventually to declare a new government, a new military regime, a new world order, a new czar.”

At that point Edward decided he was not yet ready to tell the man that the card they were about to receive would make no difference.

Meanwhile, as Sokolov explained, troops loyal to the CG would be taking over cities all across Russia, from Murmansk on the Barents Sea to Sevastopol on the Black Sea, from St. Petersburg on the Gulf of Finland to Vladivostok on the Sea of Japan.

“You must understand one thing about Russia,” said Sokolov. “There is no need to subjugate the entire country. There are peasants in Russia who still think Stalin is in power. I’ll bet there are even those who still think the czar is in power. They were hungry before, they are hungry now, they will go on being hungry. It makes no difference to them who is in power. It is in the cities that decisions are made, and Rogov will have the cities in a stranglehold. There will be several more bombings in Moscow before the week is out, so we can move even more troops into position. The beauty of the plan is that every troop mobilization, every military action will have a logical, legitimate explanation, so no one will realize what is really happening until it is too late. Even the troops that are not part of the CG, who sincerely believe they are doing the will of President Konyigin, may end up marching to Rogov’s beat.”

“How many loyal troops are there?” asked Edward.

“It is impossible to say. No one except Rogov himself knows the extent to which the Ghosts have infiltrated the Russian army and the FSK, who are the KGB’s successors. So I have no way of knowing who is a foe or a potential ally. The Black Ghosts are well named; nobody knows their faces. I am one of the very few who even know what their leader looks like. So if I am to stop this insane plan I have nowhere to turn — except to you, the Americans.”

Edward didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to admit that he had the same problem. He, too, was in the dark about who his allies were — in America. He realized that the Russian situation was a mirror image of that in the U.S.: nobody knew which way to turn. The situation was more acute than he had realized before. It was up to him, and this tall, thin Russian colonel sitting next to him, to do it all themselves.

The car’s telephone rang. The man in the front passenger seat answered and then handed it to the colonel.

“Sokolov,” he said and listened for a moment, his expression changing to one of increasing concern. “Da,” then a pause. “Da,” he said again. “Harasho.” He handed back the receiver and turned to Edward.

“That was one of my comrades from the CG Command Bunker. I have been ordered to place your hotel under surveillance. It seems that someone has informed us you are here.”

“How?”

“I don’t know who provided the information. But they are aware that you are armed.”

Smythe, thought Edward. The bearded Englishman had been just a little too cooperative in coming up with the Luger at such short notice. Damn it, Larry, why did you give me a contact who wasn’t reliable? “I know how they found out,” he said.

“That, my friend,” said Sokolov, “is something you will have to sort out at your end. Meanwhile, I strongly suggest that you not return to the hotel. Do you have any other place where you can remain in safety? I cannot help you. I wish I could.”

“I understand,” Edward said. Abandoning the hotel would mean leaving behind his passport. Worst of all, it would mean abandoning Natalie. But he had prepared her for that. She was to contact Larry if anything went wrong, so she had an escape route. And hadn’t she said all along that she could take care of herself? He could not afford to jeopardize the entire operation on the assumption that she couldn’t.

“Were you also told to observe a woman? Or was it just me?”

“No, just you. There was no mention of a woman.” Edward had no choice but to follow Sokolov’s advice. He decided to make use of the phone number Gregor had given him in Kirov and throw himself upon the mercy of the Russian Mafia.

“Do you need a ride?” asked Sokolov.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “Can you drop me somewhere near a telephone, away from the city center? The northeast of the city would be ideal.”

Sokolov gave some instructions to the driver in Russian, and the car headed out past the Garden Ring, along the Peace Prospect toward the area in which Gregor’s friend lived. Sokolov had his man return the gun, and he handed Edward a card. “This is a phone number where you can reach me. If you find out where your leak is, please let me know. Now that we have met, you have in a way tainted me. If Rogov ever found out, dying would be my best option.”

“I assure you that I will. How soon will the hotel surveillance begin?” asked Edward.

“Within the hour,” said Sokolov. That meant Edward had an hour to get word to Natalie of where he was.

The car came to a stop by a large, official-looking building. There seemed to be a fairly large number of people in uniform on the streets, but Sokolov assured Edward that this was not at all out of the ordinary.

Sokolov told Edward how to make his call from what was known in Moscow as a trunk-call office, which was no more than a house phone with a meter in an office building. They said goodbye and Edward was dropped off at a deserted street corner. He found the trunk-phone in the building across the street as Sokolov had said. He handed several rubles in advance to the clerk, whom he first took to be stoned, only to realize that boredom also had that effect on people’s expressions.

He dialed the number, hoping that whoever answered would understand English. The phone rang and rang. Edward was about to hang up when a gruff voice spoke.

“Da?”

“My name is Edward. I’m a friend of Gregor’s.”

“Ah, American. Cool. We heard you was hitting town. How are you doing, man?” The accent was definitely Russian, but the diction was anything but. Edward tried in vain to picture the face that went with this voice.

“I’m okay. But I need help. I need somewhere to stay for a few days, out of sight. Somewhere safe.”

“No problem. Where you at now?”

“I’m not quite sure.” From the glass-paneled front wall, Edward could see a couple of street signs but they were in Russian, which wasn’t much help to him.

“No problem, dude. You see a sign with a big M on it?”

Across the street he could see the sign above what looked like a staircase leading into a subway. Of course — that had to be the Metro. “Yes, there’s one across the street.”

“Good man, take the Chattanooga Choo-choo to Krasnosel Kaja. There you go up on the street. We’ll pick you up. You can crash here, man.”

Edward hung up. He called the hotel but Natalie was not there, and leaving a message with the desk clerk was out of the question. He was now on his own, at the mercy of a Russian yahoo who sounded like he was on a trip of some sort. Things were not looking good.