Dmitry mumbled something, then answered, “My father said it would be at least two more days before the weapons were moved to his operational control. He wasn’t sure how long it would take the other weapons be transferred to their regional commander’s authority, but he was confident the Air Force was also being given access to nuclear weapons. He estimated that they could potentially be used in roughly 48 to 72 hours.”
Oleg’s mind raced. “We have even less time than I imagined,” he thought in horror.
“What is the status of your regiment? How loyal are your officers and soldiers to you?” he asked.
“You mean would they listen to me if I ordered them to secure the Kremlin and the various government buildings?” Dmitry asked, smiling coyly. Then his facial expression shifted, as though he weren’t confident in his answer.
“If I order the President to be seized and placed under arrest, would your officers attempt to interfere with that arrest, or would they listen to you?” asked Oleg more pointedly.
“I’m not certain. There’s something I need to tell you — when I was promoted to take command of the regiment, Petrov gave me and my executive officer a secret set of orders. Basically, we were told that our regiment might one day need to assume your office’s duties should Petrov ever catch a whiff of disloyalty from the FSO. Some of my officers may come to Petrov’s aid should you move against him, even if I ordered them to stand down. I could end up in a situation where I have some of my companies turning on each other to protect the President. How loyal are your FSO officers, and what would you do about Grigory and the rest of the FSB?” Dmitry countered.
“Remember when I said a handful of senior officers had been in contact with Alexei?” Oleg said with a crooked smile. “Grigory is one of those officers. He’ll ensure the FSB doesn’t interfere with our seizing of Petrov. Our main concern was how you and your regiment would respond. We had hoped we wouldn’t need to use the Spetsnaz to go against you, but if you are on board, then the seizing of the Kremlin and Moscow would go significantly more smoothly. We could bring a quick end to this bloody war before it turns nuclear.”
Dmitry shook his head in shock. Oleg understood the reaction — Grigory and the president had known each other for more than thirty years.
Dmitry held his hand up. “Why is Grigory involved in this coup? Surely he must be getting something out of all of this to betray Petrov.”
Oleg nodded and leaned forward as he answered. “I understand your concern, Dmitry, and it is warranted. When the President is deposed, Grigory is going to take his place as interim president for a two-year period until a new election can be held. These are the terms the Allies have secretly negotiated with him in the event that he successfully deposes Petrov.”
“Then what is Alexei getting out of this, if he is not going to become the new president of Russia? I thought that was the West’s plan all along,” Dmitry insisted.
“Alexei will become the president eventually. Grigory has cut a deal that will shield him and many others from criminal prosecution and other war crimes by the international community as long he doesn’t run for president when his two-year provisional position is over with. He will work closely with the Allies and Alexei to ensure the country is ready to return to democratic rule.”
He paused for a second. Sensing some hesitation by his son-in-law, he knew he needed to provide some context. “Dmitry, it has to be done this way. There’s no one else that will be able to carry the respect needed to get the military to go along, and furthermore, we need to be sure the country doesn’t break out in a civil war. Grigory knows he can never become a permanent president. He knows, as I do, that the only way to live out a long life and enjoy the rest of our time on earth for us and our people is to cut a deal, one that we can all live with. This is the deal that has been brokered by the West, and it’s been agreed upon by Alexei and Grigory.”
“What about you? My father and me? What would happen to all of us?” asked Dmitry.
“Your father will be offered to take over as the Minister of Defense, and I’ll take over as the head of the FSB, at least until the transitional government ends. Once that happens, I’m not sure what will happen to us, other than I know we won’t be prosecuted for war crimes or brought before any sort of international tribunal. This is a big deal, especially for your father. His army in Ukraine has not exactly been kind to the people there, and under Petrov’s orders, they’ve been destroying the country’s infrastructure, leaving millions of people without water, electricity, and heat in the dead of winter. This has not gone over well with the West. As to yourself, I suspect you will probably be promoted and will be around for many more years to come for your patriotic duty in supporting the coup,” Oleg explained.
Oleg could hear the faint sound of laughter in the other room. “Think of your daughter and son, Dmitry. I know you believe as I do that they deserve a chance to grow up and live a long, full life. I know that there are risks, huge risks — but this is the only way that there is a legitimate chance for their future.”
After a moment of contemplation, Dmitry answered, “OK. I’m in. You’re right, we have to do something to save the country before it’s too late. My father was pretty sure the authorization of nuclear weapons would be given within the next three days, and we can’t allow that to happen. What do you need me to do?”
For the next couple of hours, they talked in detail about what they would do and when it would have to take place. The timeline for when they had to move was short, and they had a lot of things to get moving.
Vladimir woke up, startled by a vivid dream he’d had. In his dream, he saw himself being lined up against a wall with some of his key leaders and shot by his own Spetsnaz forces. The fateful trigger was pulled by his longtime friend and the new head of the FSB, Grigory Sobolev. Shaking off the bad dream, he leaned over and kissed his wife softly on the cheek. She gently stirred, smiling at him before snuggling deeper into her pillow. It was still dark out, but he couldn’t sleep, not after a dream like that.
He glanced at the alarm clock. It was 0420 hours. “Might as well as get up and do some exercises,” he thought. It was going to be a big day.
As he swung his legs out of the bed, he looked around the bedroom, admiring the detail of how his wife had decorated the space. A frightening thought came into his mind. “Will this room still be here a week from now?”
He tried to shake away the idea as a holdover from his bad dream. Petrov proceeded to the bathroom and got ready to use the gym down the hall. During his workout, he kept replaying his last conversation with Grigory. His friend had urged him one last time to reconsider the use of nuclear weapons. He’d brushed off the warning and explained that they would only target the Allies’ military units that had entered Russia.
“We’d be using nuclear weapons on our own soil — surely the West wouldn’t view that as an attack on their own sovereign lands,” he reasoned to himself again. He turned up the speed on the treadmill. There was no room in his mind for changing directions at this point — his army would destroy the Allied armies in Russia with these weapons and then sue for peace. He would rebuild from the ashes and then try again in a couple of decades.
Still, he could not shake the dream, or his last conversation with Grigory. He knew it was preposterous to think that Grigory would depose him, but if there was ever a time he would do it, today would be the day. This morning, he was supposed to hold a special meeting with his senior military leaders to issue the release of nuclear weapons. Tonight, the Allied armies standing against Russia would be consumed in a nuclear fire that would hopefully end the war and return the world, or at least Russia, to peace.