The Russian Deception

CHAPTER 3

General Alexei Ivanovich Vysotsky, Deputy Director of SVR, the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service, stood before the desk of the diminutive man who now controlled the vast resources of the Russian Federation. The desk was the modern symbol of power in Russia, the equivalent of the czar's throne. It was crafted of the finest woods and inlaid with malachite from the Ukraine, an irony that had not escaped Vladimir Orlov's notice.

Things had moved swiftly in the short time since Gorovsky's departure from behind this same desk. The bloodstained carpet had been replaced. It would take careful scrutiny to see the repair. The smell of burnt gunpowder had long since vanished. Orlov had invoked a clause in the Russian Constitution which gave him legal authorization to declare a state of emergency. All power was now in his hands.

Orlov was under no illusions that he could retain that power without the support of the factions that had placed it in his grasp. The SVR was key to his plans for the future. General Vysotsky had proved his loyalty during the coup. But loyalty in Russia was something that could shift in a moment. It required care to shore it up. No one knew that better than Orlov.

Orlov rose and gestured toward two elegant upholstered chairs set off in a corner by a low table bearing a steaming samovar and tea service.

"Will you join me for tea, General?"

Vysotsky would have preferred a large glass of vodka but knew better than to ask for one. Orlov was known to disapprove of the Russian fondness for vodka.

"Thank you, Mister President."

The two men sat down.

"That title is not yet mine," Orlov said, "but it will be after I schedule elections. That will not be for some time."

"Yes sir."

"In private you may call me Vladimir. And may I call you Alexei?"

He smiled. It failed to reach Orlov's blue eyes.

Looking at him Vysotsky thought Eyes are the mirror of the heart. If there was truth to the old proverb, Orlov's heart was empty of anything except calculation.

"Of course, Vladimir. I am honored."

Orlov placed tea in two cups and filled them with hot water from the samovar. He handed Vysotsky one of the cups.

"I appreciate the efficiency you displayed." There was no need to discuss what Orlov meant. "Tell me, what does Vishinski think of all this?"

Boris Vishinski was the current Director of SVR.

Two minutes with this man and I am already treading in quicksand, Vysotsky thought. How do I answer? What is he looking for?

It reminded him of the old days, when he'd been a young agent in the KGB. Back then a false step could lead to years in the Gulag or a bullet in the back of the head in the courtyard of the Lubyanka on Dzerzhinsky Square. The Lubyanka had been transformed into the headquarters of the FSB, Russia's internal security service. Now the bullets were dispensed at Lefertovo. For the man or woman on the receiving end, it made no difference.

Vysotsky was an old hand at the game. The secret was to say as little as possible until one knew which way the wind was blowing.

"General Vishinski is diligent, as always," Vysotsky said. "He has said nothing of importance about the transition."

"I am promoting you to the position of First Deputy Director of the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki," Orlov said.

This was a major step up. Vysotsky hid his surprise. "That is most generous, Vladimir. Thank you."

"I want you to keep me informed of activities on the part of our enemies in the West. Also of anything unusual you might discover closer to home."

Message received, Vysotsky thought. Vishinski is in his sights.

"I understand, Vladimir."

"Good, good." Orlov patted Vysotsky's hand. Alexei noticed that the fingernails were perfectly manicured and covered with clear polish. "And now I must compose a note to the American president."

Orlov stood. Vysotsky rose with him.

As he left the room, Vysotsky felt the first heady rush of satisfaction. Orlov was like a wolf from the steppes, dangerous when hungry but of little threat when his belly was full, unless provoked. Feeding the wolf had brought him close to the inner circle of power.

One day he intended to be the one sitting behind that desk. For now, being close would do.