“Are you sure Oleg’s son-in-law is going to be able to pull this off? I don’t want to have to fight through his regiment if I don’t have to,” Gennady said as he looked at the city map of Moscow. He already had his men in their vehicles, ready to roll as soon as they were given the order.
It hadn’t been an overnight progression that had brought Grigory Sobolev to be in this position. Ten years prior, the thought that he would be standing in that spot doing what he was about to do would’ve been completely out of the question. Grigory was fiercely loyal to Russia, to a fault.
Lieutenant General Grigory Sobolev had joined the KGB in 1975 and had worked in a variety of locations across much of Europe and North America. In the 1980s, he’d worked as a case officer in America, recruiting sources that would provide him with valuable information the KGB often used against the Americans. His main job was to oversee a small cadre of high-end escorts in the D.C. area. The working girls would secretly bug their clients’ houses or have them come to hotel rooms his technicians had previously bugged. During the course of his escorts’ interludes with their clients, many of whom were either politicians, defense contractors or military members, they would gather intelligence from these men, who would invariably confide in their mistresses and divulge some of their deepest secrets. This information would be used against them later on to manipulate or coerce them into giving up more secrets or face the possibility of being publicly exposed.
Grigory had risen to the rank of major when the Soviet Union collapsed and was considered a rising star in the KGB. His ability to develop an intricate honeypot trap in D.C., and then later in New York, had earned him many awards. When the Soviet Union had fallen apart, he had been ordered to return to Moscow. Many of the former KGB men were simply laid off when the great collapse happened, and Grigory thought that might’ve become his fate, but when he arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to see that not only was he being kept on, he was promoted and given a new assignment.
He was placed in charge of a counterterrorism directorate and given the mandate of rooting out those who sought to further break Russia apart. He took a leading role in creating a number of specialized Spetsnaz units to deal with the threat of terrorism and counterinsurgency operations, mainly focusing on the provinces of Dagestan and Chechnya. Throughout the 1990s and into the early 2000s, Grigory had built a name for himself as the go-to person when there was a terrorist group that needed to be dealt with. In the late 2000s and early 2010s, Grigory was promoted to major general and put in charge of FSB’s European operations. He’d led many of the FSB’s efforts in countering NATO’s expansion into Eastern Europe as well the EU’s effort to bring Eastern Europe into the Euro.
Throughout the many years Grigory had served the FSB, he’d constantly made sure his predecessor, Ivan Vasilek, and President Petrov knew he could be trusted. Like them, he was old-school KGB, and he wanted to see Russia return to its former glory. All three of their paths had crossed on many occasions while they’d served in the KGB, but unlike Ivan and Oleg, he had never served directly with Petrov. When the war with NATO had broken out, Grigory had been named Ivan’s deputy, and he was read on to Operation Red Storm for the first time. While the plan looked solid on paper, Grigory knew the Americans far better than Vasilek or Petrov did. He’d spent nearly a decade in America and traveled there on many other occasions, and he knew the Americans wouldn’t be dictated to by Russia or China. He also knew the new American president, Gates, wasn’t a person to be trifled with. He was a hothead, and when he became focused on something, he was like a pit bull that wouldn’t let go.
When the tide of war started to turn against Russia, Grigory knew it was only a matter of time before things ended for the Motherland. He also knew Petrov wouldn’t allow Russia to be defeated. He would use whatever weapons were necessary to win. When Vasilek’s plan to depose the British prime minister fell apart and was exposed, Grigory knew this was his moment to seize control of the FSB and try to bring the war to an end in a way that didn’t involve the destruction of the nation he’d spent his entire life serving.
First, he needed to get rid of Vasilek. His utter failure in the UK, along with his faulty assessment of the Americans and their willingness to wage war, gave him the opportunity he needed. With Vasilek out of the way, he could then work to establish a separate peace with the Americans that would save Russia, assuming, of course, that he was able to depose Petrov himself. After months of hunting down Alexei Kasyanov, he was finally able to secure a private meeting with the man. A secret pact was formed to bring an end to the war. Now it was time for him to put into place the means to do just that. He loved his country even more than the man who led it.
With the snow falling outside his window, Grigory shook off his memories. He looked at his friend Gennady, who he’d known for fifteen years. When he’d taken over command of the FSB’s antiterrorism branch, he’d leveraged Gennady to help him build an elite antiterrorism unit within the FSB. As Grigory had risen in rank, he’d brought Gennady along with him.
Grigory nodded. “I spoke with Oleg ten minutes ago,” he said. “Dmitry is with us and has the Kremlin fortress already on lockdown. No one will be able to get in or out of there once the plan goes into effect.”
“I’m more concerned with what happens if one of the generals is able to make a call to one of the military barracks,” Gennady countered. “If they’re able to call for help, it could be a real problem for us.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Grigory answered. He stood and looked out the window. The snow was starting to fall more steadily now, and the BTR and BMP parked just outside his building were being covered in snow.
An hour went by, and then Grigory’s phone chirped. “Begin Operation Morning Glory,” the text message read. Grigory smiled. His time to seize power had finally come.
He looked at Gennady. “It’s time,” he announced. “Get your troops moving and let’s secure the capital.”
Walking outside Lubyanka, Grigory heard the sound of gunfire, right on cue. He walked over to the BTR that would take them to the Kremlin fortress and climbed in, closing the hatch. Through the thick outer shell of the vehicle, he heard more gunfire, and then a couple of explosions went off.
“All part of the plan,” he had to remind himself. They had to make the President and the generals believe the Kremlin was under attack by the FSB. It was the only way to get them all into the bunker. By the time they realized what was happening, it would be too late.
Ten minutes later, his BTR and a couple of other Spetsnaz vehicles arrived at the checkpoint leading into the Kremlin fortress. The soldiers manning the roadblock saluted smartly, letting them pass. Driving up to the main entrance of the Senate Palace, Grigory got out of the vehicle and was pleasantly surprised to see that Colonel Chayko had assembled a line of soldiers standing at parade rest, leading into the building. The soldiers snapped to attention, presenting arms as he exited the BTR and made his way to the entrance. Major General Oleg Zolotov and Colonel Dmitry Chayko were also standing there waiting for him at the entrance to the building.
After rendering a salute, General Zolotov extended his hand. “It’s good to see you, Mr. President. Everything is in order,” he said.
Grigory liked the sound of that. “Mr. President,” he thought with a smile.
“I assume you have everyone locked up in the bunker?” he verified.
“Yes, Sir. I also have the rest of the cabinet members being rounded up and moved to the other bunkers as well. I should have confirmation in the next five to ten minutes that they have all been successfully secured. Once we have them in place, do you want to have them liquidated before or after you announce that you’ve taken control of the government?” Oleg inquired.