The Bear

The Kremlin 15:45 h

President Yuri Novichkov set the black handset back down onto its base. He stared at it as the smoke from his cigarette swirled away from his desk. He felt the chill of the office surround him. No matter what, it was still an old building, and it was winter in Moscow. He sat silent as his cup of tea grew cold.

This was not the same as in the times of the Soviet Union. In those days, he could have covered nearly anything up. Those who made mistakes were simply never heard from again. Some were sent to the gulags, while others just disappeared. Siberia was always a good hiding ground. He wished he had that option now. The knock at his door brought him out of his trance.

“You have heard.” The look on the president’s face was obvious.

“Da.” He looked up as his aide walked into the room. “Any deaths?”

“We don’t know yet. All we know is a plane went down off the American coast.”

“What were they doing there? Alaska?”

“It is part of our renewed reach to show the West we are not so impotent as they might believe, that we still have the backbone to be a world, military power.”

“But to be so close. It is a provocative move, Andrey. We need to tread carefully here.” The president leaned back, feeling the plushness of his oxen-leather chair. “Is that all you came to tell me?”

“Unfortunately no.” Andrey Volkov straightened as he delivered the news. “The American ambassador made a call within the past few minutes. I put him off. He was not happy.”

“I would think not,” he smiled back. “What did you tell him?”

“That you were in a meeting with the Minister of Agriculture.”

“But you always tell him that,” Yuri laughed. “He must think that’s the only thing I ever think about.”

“Well, they are always trying to make a deal on wheat. He must think we’re starving over here. He wanted a meeting within the hour. I told him that wasn’t possible.”

“Let me know what you find out as soon as you find it.”

“Yes sir.”

“And Andrey, I need to know who ordered this foolishness.”

Andrey nodded as he turned and left the room. The Russian president leaned back into his heavy, leather chair. He knew it would be more difficult to find who ordered such a mission. In the Soviet times, his aide would have been an active general, not a retired one, and finding that information would have been so much easier. But he knew he lived in a different era, a different time. It was obviously better in many ways, not only for his people, but his country as well. The hammer that was the Soviet regime was effective at keeping the populace under control, but it did little to advance Mother Russia. He lifted the black phone again.”

“Call the American ambassador for a meeting.”

Andrey turned down the hall and then around a corner, his office not far from the president’s. He picked up the phone on his own desk, but quickly laid it back down. He looked around his office, rather spartan compared to most of the others in the building. But it was his. How could something like this happen to him? He knew why. It was his own fault. He pulled a single key from his pocket and slipped it into the lock on his drawer. Some things never change, even here. The drawer contained only a single notebook that was filled with a list of names, key people who knew how to get things done. And a pistol, in case anything went horribly wrong.

“Operator. Yes Mr. Volkov.”

“Get me General Goraya in Petropavlovsk. Call me when the connection is complete.”