Patriot

CHAPTER 26

Good evening,” Uncle Joe said.

The colonel heard a click, and a dim yellow light was illuminated atop the desk behind the scrim. Now was revealed the Dark Rider. A coal black silhouette, seated at a table facing outward, shoulders squared, head held high.

Trying to appear like a big man, Beauregard thought, but in a little man’s body.

Two candles flickered in sconces on the wall behind him. A stubby candle or two on the desk shone light across the man’s face but revealed no discernible features. Uncle Joe was sitting very erect, his hands folded together on the tabletop. That was about all you could see, just shapes.

“Good evening, Uncle Joe,” Krakov said, a bit of timidity suddenly coloring his voice.

“Good evening. You look well, General. And here is the famous Colonel Beauregard, I gather. Welcome to the Dark Tower, Colonel. It’s over four hundred years old. And if these walls could talk… well, you would hear a lot of screaming.”

Uncle Joe laughed at his own joke. A guttural, disturbing laugh.

The Texan was somewhat disquieted by that remark and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. If Uncle Joe meant it to be funny, fine. But, if he was serious? Fuck.

“Thank you for inviting me, sir. Mind if I call you Uncle Joe?”

“Not at all. It’s my name.”

“Well, then, Uncle Joe, this is quite a palace you have here, sir.”

“Oh, it’s not mine. It belongs to the people. To Russia. To the New Russia. Novorossiya.”

“Sorry.”

“Not at all. It is good to meet you, Colonel. I know you have come a long way. But I think you’ll find your journey worthwhile. Let me say first that I have long been an admirer of yours. Vulcan mercenaries came to my aid when I needed you in Chechnya and again during the Georgian troubles. While I did not deal directly with you or your men, I have nothing but the highest regard for both.”

“Thank you, sir. I wish I could believe that the Kremlin shared your feelings.”

“Yes. As do I. Perhaps one day they shall. Their treatment of you was appalling after all you had done for the army, the navy, and what is now called FSB. I prefer the old term KGB and I would appreciate your calling it that as well.”

“Always do. FSB never quite caught on down in Texas, Excellency.”

“It will always be KGB to me.”

“Yes, indeed, sir. Always.”

“Now, Colonel, let’s get down to the brass tacks. The very reasons why I wanted to have this meeting with you, agreed?”

“Please.”

“I’ve studied your dossier at length. I know all about you. You are astute and politically aware. You know that there is a new Russia lurking just over the horizon. Rumbling over the horizon with the roar of a million battle tanks. Sometimes if you look in the right place, you can see the golden glow of destruction, heralding its approach. We owe a great deal to our forefathers just as you do in your country. Yet, for a time, Russia has turned its back on the past. I intend to rectify that. I believe that the collapse of the Soviet Union was the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the twentieth century.”

“A phrase I just heard from the general, Uncle Joe. I’m sure many of your countrymen would agree with you, sir.”

“You’ve no idea. From the Soviet Union of our fathers we received a great legacy. Infrastructure. Industrial specialization, a common linguistic, scientific, and cultural heritage. To use this enormous gift together for our onward development is in our common interest… and also common sense. My wish is not to re-create the USSR. It would be naive to try to restore or copy that perfection which remains rooted in the past. But hear me now. A close integration of Soviet imperialism based on new values and a new political and military foundation is imperative.”

“If I may interrupt, you speak of this ‘New Russia.’ What is your vision for it?”

“Good. You get to the point. Let me begin by describing the world in which we find ourselves early in the twenty-first century. In my view, our adversaries are weak and confused. In addition to proving himself spineless and without morality, the current American president seems utterly ignorant of the lessons of history. He has America in full retreat. Slashing defense spending, slashing military, slashing his own border protection. The entire Mideast has become a tinderbox with a hundred beckoning fuses. Our ISIS friends, for example. The fall of Syria and Yemen. The Boko Haram in Africa. We pushed your president in Syria, barely nudged him, and he folded like a house of cards.”

Uncle Joe sat back, folded his arms across his chest, and continued.

“He is beset by enemies on all sides. He nearly went to war last year with China over the illegal expansion into the South China Sea, the use of North Korea as a surrogate bitch. Yet, when my country moved into the Crimea, what was his reaction? He ignored it. What does that tell you, Colonel?”

“I am an American and I find it disgraceful. But, for our enemies, it presents a huge opportunity. Historic, actually.”

“Yes. You are exactly correct. This hollow man has the nerve to say that my country, Russia, is a ‘local power that operates out of weakness.’ Really? Weakness? Is he mad? I will only remind you Americans that Germany was once a local power operating out of weakness… that is, until Hitler came along.”

“Exactly, Uncle Joe,” the colonel said, liking where this was going. The little guy thought he was Hitler…

“Power, like nature, abhors a vacuum. A weakened American presidency, and, thus, a weakened America, presents us with a huge vacuum. The West underestimates us and that is good. Because I intend to fill that worldly vacuum, Colonel; I intend to fill it with the might and power of the New Russia! Do you understand me?”

“I do,” Beauregard said, catching the fervor of the moment. “You think America is over. You think China lacks the nuclear arsenal to challenge you or even get in your way. You think the time is right for a new Soviet-style Russia to emerge as the world’s new superpower, one that can challenge China or anyone else for world dominance. You want to return your borders to those you enjoyed before the fall of the Soviet Union. You want to — avenge your honor after the fall of your empire!”

The Dark Rider exploded with laughter.

“Yes! Precisely! General, you see that I was correct in my belief that the colonel here would grasp my vision?”

Krakov was laughing as well. “Oh, I think he more than grasps it, Uncle Joe. I think he grabs it by the neck and embraces it.”

“Is the general correct, Colonel? Do you embrace my vision?”

“I’d say that’s the understatement of the century, sir. Yes, I do embrace it. American leaders not only betrayed me, they are betraying themselves by letting Washington destroy in a few short years what has take two centuries to build. My men fought and died for the old America. I myself am a proud son of the American Revolution, the SAR. I wouldn’t sacrifice even one of my glorious bastards for the new America.”

“But you would let them fight for the New Russia?”

“I would indeed, sir. I would indeed.”

“Excellent! It is the response I was hoping for, obviously. I welcome you with open arms.”

“Please tell me how I can help you, sir. I don’t know how much you know about Vulcan since our fall from grace.”

“How many men do you have under arms?”

“I could raise an incredibly effective strike force of thirty thousand impeccably trained warriors.”

“They are all still loyal to you?”

“Right down to their bones, sir.”

“Weapons?”

“Armed to the teeth. The best combat armament in the field. In addition, at our facility in Texas and around the world, we maintain both aerial and naval assets that are the equivalent if not superior to that of any military on earth, including your own. We designed these things. We know how to fly them and we know how to sail them. Surface vessels and minisubmarines employed in acts of sabotage. Sail into an enemy port and take down its power grid, for example.”

“Good, good. We are on the same page, Colonel. Tell me more. Your intelligence assets? Still intact?”

“Intact and are ready to go operational on your signal. You have to understand something, sir. Our clients included just about every substantive government and intelligence agency on the planet. We know them inside out. Names, from top to bottom. Moles, who and where. Operations, both on the books and already in play. I can state unequivocally that there is no repository of the world’s secrets on Earth that can rival this brain I carry around with me.”

“You know all the world’s secrets, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Amazing. Do you know what we could do with that kind of knowledge?”

“I’ve been waiting for the right person to ask me that question for a very long time, Uncle Joe.”

“What good is any intelligence service on Earth if the enemy knows all its secrets?”

“Worthless.”

“Now I’m going to ask you a question you don’t have to answer.”

“Fire away.”

“A number of high-level intelligence officers have died recently. Too many for coincidence in my view. Oddly enough, all seemingly of natural causes. A couple of deceased Americans, Brits, a French operative or two. Did you by any chance have anything to do with that?”

“Of course,” the Texan said with a laugh. “How did you figure that out?”

“I simply looked at all the potential suspects to see which of them might possibly be at odds with the entire world. Yours was the only name on the list with a grievance sufficient to warrant such global retribution.”

“Here’s the deal, Excellency. These bastards, especially the American politicians and intelligence chiefs, thought they could shit all over Vulcan and its men and not pay a price. Hell, I haven’t even begun to get even. You think I’m pissed off? You should talk to some of my warriors. I have to rein them in every now and then or you would see serious shit going down on Capitol Hill.”

“Not an easy group to maintain control over, I would imagine.”

“You’ve no idea, sir.”

“You obviously have some very highly trained political assassins inside Vulcan.”

“The best in the world, bar none. They’re like ghosts. They can go through walls.”

“Men and women who would be capable of systematically dismantling and eventually destroying certain agencies and their assets who are most troublesome to us going forward with our plans? Saboteurs who might take down the power grids of major cities without a shot fired?”

“Without question. Give me names and addresses. We’ll take it from there. We’re ready to start tomorrow.”

The silhouetted figure sat back in his chair, appearing to ponder. Finally, he spoke.

“You’re familiar with a man named Patrick Brickhouse Kelly, I would presume.”

“Brick Kelly, of course. Chief of the fucking CIA. He’s the right bastard who found it convenient to throw Vulcan under the bus in the first place. Why?”

“A matter for another time, perhaps.”

“Understood, sir.”

The Dark Rider swiveled his chair to the left.

“General Krakov, it appears Colonel Beauregard and I are about to embark on a long and rewarding comradeship together. I will leave it to you to iron out all the logistics and compensation issues. I’m sure the colonel knows he and his men are going to be amply rewarded for their services?”

“I wouldn’t doubt you for a second, sir. And I can promise you Vulcan will exceed your war-fighting expectations by a factor of one thousand. We will be worth every ruble.”

“A pleasing scenario. I wonder. Could you please share your war-fighting modus operandi, Colonel?”

The American sat back in his chair, giving it some thought before replying. He said:

“I believe one must attack with a cold and unstinting fury. Leave the enemy whimpering and on its knees as quickly as possible. I believe in making the enemy at home scream out for their dead and wounded abroad. And I believe the suffering and pain of the bereaved left behind can be as effective as a fresh regiment in bringing a battle to a swift and timely conclusion. Teach them unalterable lessons about the horror of warfare. I consider myself not a warrior but a conqueror, sir. I learned these tactics studying another conqueror, General William Tecumseh Sherman, and his slashing and burning march through Georgia.”

The Dark Rider was silent but nodded his strong approval of the colonel’s remarks.

“Where is the bulk of your force currently located?” he asked.

“Scattered, for obvious reasons. I’m a nuisance, an inconvenience, for a lot of folks inside the Beltway. I myself live in a large fortified compound in Costa Rica. I have a skeleton force there dedicated to my personal security and the few regional ops we currently have under way. The bulk of my men have gone underground, waiting for me to notify them of an opportunity just like this one. I’ve got about a thousand men living and working at the old Vulcan complex near Port Arthur, Texas. And assets positioned around the world I communicate with via Skype and a dedicated satellite I had placed in orbit. Totally secure.”

“How would you feel about relocating the entire operation in one place? All thirty thousand.”

“No problem at all. Where do you have in mind, exactly?”

“Right here. I could begin construction of a facility to house and train your men immediately. A command-and-control center. Hangars for drones and combat aircraft. A landing strip that could accommodate your needs. Barracks and a dining hall for your soldiers. You would be adjacent to, but entirely separate from, the main KGB training and headquarters compound.”

“Sounds pretty damn good to me, sir.”

“I’m not sure our weather can compete with Costa Rica.”

“Uncle Joe, let me assure you. Living on a mosquito-ridden beach with two fat ladies and a flea-bitten mongrel dog is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

The Russian laughed. He’d made the right choice.

“How soon could you mount an operation in, say, Washington? Or, just for argument’s sake, let’s say… Cuba?”

“Washington? That would take one phone call, sir. I have two of my very best assets in the capital. American, incidentally. Her late husband was former CIA, and his aggrieved widow is as good as they get.”

“Excellent.”

“Names?”

“In due time. But I already have one name for you to cross off my list.”

“Consider him gone. Or, her, as it may be.”

“Good. Another thing. You once worked with Fidel Castro in Cuba, I believe.”

“I did.”

“So you know El Commandante’s successor, his brother Raúl?”

“Yes. We’re on very good terms.”

“I am mounting a critically important operation on an island called Isla de Pinos. You recall, perhaps, the old Soviet spy installation on that island. Twenty-four square miles. Fell into disrepair when we abandoned Fidel. Now, I could use your help in rebuilding it for twenty-first-century warfare in that hemisphere. In the early stages, I will use it as a base from which to mount sabotage operations against southern Florida.”

“It’s yours.”

“Welcome to the New Russia, Colonel.”

“Uncle Joe, I will say one thing. It is an honor and a privilege to be part of your vision, sir.”

“I have one more question for you, Colonel, and then I’ll excuse you. Was Vulcan ever considered for a contract involving the protection of America’s national electrical grids? I believe I read that somewhere…”

“Did a lot of research on them that never went anywhere. The power companies provide all their own security. And they don’t want the government or someone like me nosing around in their business. Sheer stupidity, but there you have it. But I knew more than just about anyone about those damn power plants before I was done.”

“And that is still true?”

“Far as I know. A grid’s a grid is how I see it.”

“Very well. You will be hearing from me in the next few days. If there is anything at all you require, General Krakov here is at your service. I have assigned him to you for the duration of facilitating your incorporation into our existing KGB framework. Don’t hesitate to let me know what you need, Colonel.”

“Right now, Uncle Joe, what I require is a little vodka.”

“So do I!” General Krakov said. The Dark Rider must have pushed a button or something, because in a heartbeat a white-jacketed servant was rolling a table into his office. On it were two bottles of some vodka called Feuerwasser, a large silver bucket of ice, and three glasses.

And the official meeting was over.

Beauregard savored the intense bite of frozen vodka on his tongue. He couldn’t stop smiling. For better or for worse, the colonel was risen at last from the ashes. And what havoc he might wreak upon those whom he felt had betrayed him?

It was all yet to be seen.