Second Strike

CHAPTER 50

^MOSCOW,

^{AUGUST 17, 2:35 A.M. MSK}

Yuri Mikhailov was as tall as Stetchkin but nearly ninety pounds heavier. He’d been a discus thrower on the 1984 Soviet Olympic team, after which he’d spent a brief stint in the KGB. Before becoming the Russian president he’d amassed a small fortune in the energy sector, in no small part due to his position and contacts in the KGB.

Mikhailov was one of the few men in Russia not fearful of Stetchkin. In fact, Mikhailov found Stetchkin barely tolerable. More than once he’d considered getting rid of the man. But Stetchkin was efficient, effective, and useful. Once he ceased being all three, however, Mikhailov would cast him aside like a rotten apple core.

Mikhailov had reluctantly granted Stetchkin an audience. The man might be useful, but his presence was grating and bearable only in small doses, with appreciable intervals in between.

The pair had just sat a few feet apart on matching leather chairs in a large Baroque anteroom in Mikhailov’s office. Two small tables next to each held glasses of water. A massive chandelier hung overhead. They were alone.

“Chao-Li sends his regards, Aleksandr,” Mikhailov said, referring to the Chinese president. “He asked me to tell you how much he enjoyed your visit to Beijing last year during the joint exercises.”

“He is a good man,” Stetchkin said.

“He is better than his predecessor,” Mikhailov conceded. “But I do not trust him. His trade delegations have made repeated inquiries about traveling throughout lower Siberia, ostensibly to boost commerce to the benefit of both countries.”

“Given the current state of our economy in that region, I would say that may redound to our benefit, particularly the mining sector.”

“They are not interested in mining, Aleksandr. They are not interested in commerce.”

“Then where lies their interest?”

“Lebensraum.”

“I have seen no aggressive actions on their part.”

“Merely because there have been no aggressive actions does not foreclose the certainty that they are being planned. I am a bit concerned you seem not to have considered this.”

“It is, in fact, something my staff has evaluated in great detail,” Stetchkin lied.

Mikhailov was not fooled. He hadn’t been fooled by any underling in his entire professional career. That, combined with sheer ruthlessness, was how he became, and remained, president of Russia.

“Then why haven’t you reported your staff’s evaluations to me, Aleksandr?”

“They are not yet complete.”

“Then you should get better staff. Your current staff is a collection of idiots. There is no evaluation to be done, Aleksandr. It is common sense and simple math. China is a nation of 1.5 billion people on 3.7 million square miles of land. Siberia, on the other hand, is more than five million square miles of land inhabited by barely forty million people—less than three percent of China’s population on twenty-five percent more land. Lebensraum.”

“We have enjoyed good cooperation regarding disputes with the West,” Stetchkin countered.

“Of course. Nations have no permanent allies or enemies, only interests.”

“Kissinger.”

“Lord Palmerston said it more than one hundred years earlier,” Mikhailov informed him. “We will cooperate with the Chinese when it is in our mutual interest to do so. But they have an overriding concern that cannot be obviated: too many people on too small a landmass. And just north of them is vacant land as far as the eye can see. The largest expanse on the planet. They are building artificial islands in the South China Sea to claim those waters. The Americans were too stupid and feckless to even raise an eyebrow about it. We will not be so stupid. If we permit the Chinese a foothold on our territory—whether it is a plant or refinery or farm or weather station—they will use that in the same fashion they are using the islands in the South China Sea. We, however, are not the Americans, Aleksandr.” Mikhailov took a sip of water before changing subjects. “You have absorbed Uganov’s operations?”

“Yes.”

“How has the absorption improved operations?”

Stetchkin began speaking and stopped. He began again and stopped once more. He really couldn’t say how operations had been improved. “The operations are streamlined,” he offered weakly.

“You turned a good man into a walking vegetable to streamline operations with no identifiable improvement in performance?”

“Uganov was troublesome and unreliable. We could not depend on him.”

Mikhailov, his eyes hooded, stared at Stetchkin. “Understand something, Aleksandr. I give you latitude because you produce results, not because I am fond of you. If you do not produce results, not only will you receive no latitude; you will be useless to me.” Mikhailov picked a piece of lint from the leg of his trousers. “You should endeavor never to become useless to me.”

“I shall.”

“If you cannot tell me of any improvement in the operations, tell me the status of the operations.”

“We remain on schedule. All simulations have been successful.”

“Timing is important, Aleksandr. As you know, we have several components to the plan that must mesh.”

“I understand. Out of curiosity, has NATO given any indication they are even aware of our various movements?”

“NATO has been silent, as expected. They have undertaken a simulation similar to Locked Shields recently, but it appears the timing was mere happenstance.”

Stetchkin chuckled derisively. “They behave as raccoons. They believe if they put their hands over their eyes, the predator will not see them and will leave them alone.”

“The West remains preoccupied with the EMP issue, with the bombing campaign against Iran. They cannot conceive of a second potential cataclysm following so soon after averting the EMP. In this, I do not fault them. It is a rational conclusion driven by human nature. And even though our history is one that instructs us that one cataclysm can certainly follow soon after another, we, too, would likely be lulled into complacency, a sense of security.”

“But we do not think in one-dimensional terms as they do,” Stetchkin noted. “Even some of their leaders have acknowledged that they play checkers while we play chess.”

“Even so, Aleksandr, we likely would never envision such a deceptive maneuver.” Another sip of water. “Do any contingencies remain at your end?”

Stetchkin saw an opening. “Our preparations are complete. It is just a matter of initiating the procedure. For that reason, Colonel Egorshin is no longer integral to the operation.”

Mikhailov could barely restrain rolling his eyes. Stetchkin had little capacity for subtlety. “You are saying he is unnecessary?”

“Yes.”

“And you wish to remove him?”

“That is correct.”

“In the same fashion you removed Uganov?”

“Not exactly,” Stetchkin replied slowly.

“So you wish to kill him.”

“He is useless now.”

Mikhailov examined the crease on his pant leg, running an index finger along its crest. He remained silent for several moments. “You wish to kill a brilliant young man because he has successfully completed an enormously complex task so all that remains, essentially, is to push a button, so to speak…” Mikhailov looked up. “Are you completely deranged, Aleksandr?”

Stetchkin stammered, at a loss for how to respond.

Mikhailov continued. “You worry me. I have given you enormous authority to ensure our objectives are met. I am growing concerned I may have made an error of judgment. I have long been aware of your… eccentricities. Your accomplishments, however, outweighed the eccentricities, and so I tolerated them. But there are limits to my tolerance. This is one of them.”

“It is merely that he is an affront—”

“Listen to me,” Mikhailov interrupted. “You acted on Uganov without checking with me. Although somewhat pedestrian, Uganov was competent. I did not object because Egorshin was the true center of the operation.” Mikhailov leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “That did not mean I approved, and I must approve. Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

Stetchkin nodded.

“I understand your reputation. I helped create your reputation. But you are not free to simply eliminate essential personnel without seeking my approval beforehand. That is unacceptable.”

“I understand fully.”

“Then understand this also: Only when you can certify to me that the event can proceed with one hundred percent certainty without Egorshin may you act as you wish. If you act without so certifying, you will be fortunate to suffer the same fate as Uganov. Am I clear?”

Stetchkin swallowed nervously. “Yes.”