Half the room suddenly seemed very happy while the other half glared at him. Petrov took a deep breath in and slowly let it out through his nose. “General Chayko, I don’t believe we should give up our hard-fought ground willingly. That said, looking at the map, I don’t see any other course of action. However, that doesn’t mean we have to give the enemy anything useful as we withdraw.”
General Chayko’s left eyebrow rose skeptically, but he said nothing.
“Here’s what I want to happen,” President Petrov began. “I want our forces to begin a staged withdrawal back to Kiev. As our forces retreat, I want any captured electrical substations, powerplants and major power distribution nodes destroyed. I want any critical roads, railways, and bridges demolished as our forces fall back. I want us to do to the Allies what we did to the Nazis during World War II and initiate a scorched-earth policy. We can create a humanitarian crisis far worse than using chemical weapons. With the coming winter, the Allies will suddenly find themselves responsible for taking care of the Ukrainian people, who will struggle during the winter weather with no electricity, natural gas, rail or road infrastructure across their country. If the Allies won’t come to some sort of end to this war, then we will reduce the rest of Ukraine to nothing as we withdraw back to our own borders.” An evil look filled his eyes.
“If they won’t end the war on our terms, then we will have no mercy. They will wish they had ended it when they had the chance,” he thought.
Operational Security
The kettle on the stove whistled as the water started to boil, letting Alexei Kasyanov know it was ready. He quickly got up and turned the burner off. He pulled a mug out of the cabinet, stuffed his metal tea ball with leaves and plopped it into the water. With his tea brewing, returned to his previous task, logging into the internet through a complicated series of proxy servers that masked his activity and changed his IP address.
Looking at the latest news reports, he was heartened to see the Allies had successfully landed a substantial military force in the White Sea, capturing the city of Arkhangelsk. “The invasion of this historic Russian city would play well on his evening broadcast,” he thought as he wrote a few notes down on his pad of paper. Another article from the BBC talked about the Russian withdrawal from most of eastern Ukraine. It showed a number of maps of the Russian retreat and the new battle lines near Kiev. It also talked extensively about how the Russian and Indian armies were systematically destroying the infrastructure of Ukraine as they retreated back to the Russian borders.
A soft knock broke Alexei from his train of thought. He looked up and saw Gunther Brinkbaumer, his BND handler, and Mitch Lowe, his CIA handler, both standing near the rear door of the small house. He walked over and quickly unlocked it, letting them both in. As he walked inside, Mitch dusted the snow off his shoulders and unwrapped his scarf, hanging it on the hook near the door.
Smiling, Alexei said, “This must be important if you both are here to see me.”
Mitch nodded, and without saying anything, he guided them down the stairs to the basement quiet room, which was impervious to electronic eavesdropping. While they were talking, the two sentries on the first floor would continue to look cautiously outside, making sure there was nothing suspicious, while a third man would watch a set of cameras that monitored the surrounding neighborhood. Security for Alexei was of paramount concern to Mitch, and something neither he nor the CIA chinsed on. They had even rented a house two doors down with a direct-action team inside, ready to pounce in case an unwanted visit appeared to be imminent. Not to mention they had several alternate locations they could move Alexei to should the need arise.
As the three of them sat down on the chairs in the “quiet room,” Mitch started by asking, “How did the meeting go yesterday with your new source?”
Alexei smiled. Mitch and Gunther knew this guy could be the linchpin to making a coup work, and they were more than eager for information about him. “I know I haven’t told you a lot about this new source, and I suppose it’s time I come clean and tell you exactly who he is. The man I’ve been in contact with is Oleg Zolotov, the head of the FSO and Petrov’s security detail.” He watched amusedly as Mitch and Gunther’s mouths dropped to the floor.
Gunther was the first to respond. “How did you two make contact? Does he know where you’re staying? Is this location still safe?” he asked, speaking quickly and nervously.
“I can’t believe you actually met this guy face-to-face last night,” Mitch said, speaking in a tone that was a mix of horrified and angry. “Had I known who you were meeting with, I never would have agreed to let you go without backup.”
Alexei waved his hands as if to dismiss their concerns. “When I met with him, he told me the key to seizing power was getting Grigory Sobolev on board,” he answered. “Oleg said if we can convince Sobolev that a coup can work, then the two of them could make it happen and bring an end to the war.”
There was a moment of tense silence. Mitch leaned forward in his chair. “Is this a deal you would accept, and your supporters?” he asked. “If not, then there’s no point in moving forward. The coup needs to hold the country together, not splinter it into regional warlords.”
Alexei had wanted to become President, but he also wanted to see his country succeed and become a thriving democracy. If he had to back a dictator for a couple of years and accept an occupying force, he’d do it. “It’s not the grand plan I had envisioned,” he admitted, “but it’s probably the only plan that realistically would work. I back it, and I’ll do my best to make sure my supporters do as well.”
Mitch looked at Gunther who shrugged, then turned his attention back to Alexei. “OK, I’ll brief this back to Washington and work to get approval from the President. Until I get confirmation from Foss, don’t communicate further with Oleg. We want to make sure we have our i’s dotted and our t’s crossed before you talk with him again. We don’t know what kind of surveillance he’s under, and we don’t want to risk them finding you.”
With the official business taken care of, Mitch and Gunther left to head back to their own safe house and transmit what they had discussed back to Washington and Berlin. It would now be up to the President and his team to determine if this was an acceptable end to the war or if they would press for a full dismantling of Russia.
World on Fire
The midterm elections were finally over, and by all accounts, President Foss should have been elated. Traditionally, the ruling party tends to lose seats in the election. However, when it became known who was responsible for the assassination of Gates and the political motivations behind the attack, the election had turned decisively in Foss’s party’s favor, giving them a supermajority in both the House and the Senate, at least for the next two years.
Still, Foss was immensely saddened by the turn of events. He had personally never envisioned himself becoming President. He’d wanted to be the guy behind the scenes helping to get things done, not the primary political target of the opposition party and the relentless personal attacks by the pundits and other talking heads in Washington and around the country.
“I have no idea how Gates was able to weather this kind of public beratement, let alone this catastrophic war that is consuming the world,” he thought.
He looked down at the report in front of him to distract himself but ended up scratching his head in confusion. He still couldn’t understand what could possibly make the Indian government willingly choose to join the Eastern Alliance. It made no economic, military, or political sense.