PROLOGUE
“Comrades, take your seats.” It was a commanding voice and everyone immediately sat down. Two hundred men and women sat in a meeting hall once used as a Communist Party headquarters in Volgograd, Russia. Andrei Kulagin was their leader and he stood grim faced with his trademark large mustache as he stared down at his audience.
“Thank you, Comrade for holding this meeting,” a man said rising and giving Kulagin a salute.
“Be seated, Comrade,” and the man complied. “Never forget why we are here and why we must succeed.” There were cheers and words of encouragement and agreement. Kulagin looked at his audience and a faint smile escaped his thin lips. Few people had seen their leader smile and looks were exchanged wondering if he was alright. Perhaps he was drugged or had lost his mind. They were used to a hard, cold, angry and powerful man who instilled fear in people. Fear if they didn’t obey him and fear if they didn’t succeed in carrying out his wishes. Now, they see him actually smile. That was scary to them because this group was very much a cult of the personality… Kulagin’s personality.
“Speak to us, Comrade, what shall we do?” A man asked.
“Yes, Comrades, I will speak to you tonight. We are at a crossroads. Our nation is in danger of being compromised of being trivialized out of existence. He would not allow that,” Kulagin said as he turned and pointed to the very large portrait on the wall behind him. There was loud cheering and clapping. Our beloved Comrade knew how to deal with those who would give away Russian soil. And, Comrades, make no mistake about it, once soil has been Russian it must always stay Russian!” He pounded the podium and there was more clapping, foot stomping and cheering. “Our comrade made the Soviet Union and expanded our sphere to include Eastern Europe. Now, since the appeasers have taken over and the party has been ignored, Russia is weak and the President of Russia is meeting the American President to further weaken Russia. That we cannot allow!” He pounded again on the podium and some of the people stood and thrust their fists in the air with shouts of down with President Denikin, down with the traitors. The noise died down and they all sat down again. “Comrades, we have a mission to fulfill for our beloved Comrade who once ruled the glorious Soviet Union. We have to restore the Soviet Union to its original borders. We must reconstitute the great Soviet Union!” More cheers and shouting. “Comrades, the time for talking is through, it is time for action. The central committee will meet tomorrow night to plan that course of action. When we meet again, we will have begun the restoration of our great Soviet nation. To the future, Comrades!” Kulagin shouted and the place went nuts for a few minutes as their leader turned and saluted the large portrait of Joseph Stalin.
“You see what I mean?” Ronnie Stemweiss said as he and his friend Chip McCarthy camped outside the window of the meeting.
“If they catch us, we’re dead. These guys mean business and they’re all armed.”
“I know, what kind of a story would it be if they were all gentle souls?” Chip rolled his eyes.
“One we could live to talk about someday.”
“You have to be bold, Chip, if you want anything in this world.”
“What I want is to get out of here alive.”
“Relax, we’ll be fine.”
“How did we get here exactly; I can’t remember now?” Chip asked snidely.
“My editor wanted a hot story and this was it.”
“Your editor?”
“Yes.”
“Ronnie your editor is your partner. You have a four-page weekly with a circulation of about six or seven hundred.”
“We started small but we’re growing,” Ronnie reminded Chip.
“Just how did you pay for this trip for you and me?”
“Cal cashed in his college money.”
“Then he bravely stayed back home while you and I are thrown into the fire.”
“Of course, that’s the fun of journalism.” Chip shook his head and sighed.
“And, why exactly am I so indispensable to this operation?”
“You’re my photographer.”
“Yes, and as I remember, you forgot to bring the camera.”
“An unfortunate oversight on my part,” Ronnie admitted.
“Which makes it difficult to take any pictures of people, buildings or anything else.”
“Of course, but you’re my eyes and ears. A second pair of such. What I see and hear you will also and you’ll be my witness to history.”
“What history?”
“That’s what we’ll find out.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“You know, sleeping in a barn wasn’t exactly what you promised me,” Chip said to Ronnie as they found a position behind the meeting hall where the Central Committee of the Volgograd Communist Party was meeting. Volgograd was the name given to the City of Stalingrad after Stalin died. You see, Joseph Stalin made a number of enemies. He killed most of them during his twenty-five-year rule but there were still plenty of them left over. His name was vilified by the people who survived him and his excesses were given an official apology by his successor, Nikita Khrushchev. The Stalinists seemed to gravitate to Volgograd as a rebirthing place for their revered leader’s memory.
“And I apologize for that. I’ll make it up to you when we get back to the U.S.”
“Okay, so, what do we do now?”
“We wait until they start then find a place to listen to what’s going on inside.” The members arrived and the place filled quickly. There were twenty-five members of the Central Committee plus Kulagin. He arrived last in a limo.
“I see someone has a high opinion of themselves,” Chip said as Kulagin made a rock star entry. The meeting lasted for an hour and the whole time Ronnie and Chip looked for a place to spy on this band of lunatics. Finally, they found a side entrance that’d been hidden by bushes. They snuck inside and were behind the speaker’s platform as Kulagin was bellowing platitudes and threats. In the end he said they’d capture the two leaders and extort the two countries for what they wanted. There were shouts of approval and the meeting broke up.
“What does he mean extort the two countries?” Ronnie asked.
“I don’t know but I don’t like the sound of it, especially capturing the two leaders. He means kidnaping the president of Russia and the United States.” They went out the way they came in and watched for anyone who might be snooping in the back, just walking or smoking a cigarette. If they were seen they were as good as dead. Chip was right these men were all killers.
“I think we can get to those woods and wait,” Ronnie said and they started running.
“Stop!!” a man yelled but Ronnie and Chip never broke stride. A shot rang out and Ronnie cried out in pain as he went down. Chip stopped to help his friend.
“Get going, I’m dead.”
“No,” Chip said.
“Get out of here and tell someone what we heard.”
“But, Ronnie…”
“Move!” Chip took a breath and started running in zig zag as shots rang out. One whizzed by his left ear and one kicked up dirt in his face but he never slowed. He made it to the trees and kept going through the woods. He could hear people running behind but they had no good shot in the dark in the dense woods. Chip had run track in high school and he was good. Also, he had kept running since graduation and was in excellent shape. Finally, his pursuers stopped as they were like most Russians… addicts of cigarettes and Vodka. When Chip stopped ten minutes later, he looked back from behind a tree and saw no one after him. He got his breathing under control and pondered his situation. What were his good choices? None. What were his choices period? He wasn’t sure but none of them were very good. He could sleep in another barn… no thanks. A park bench? Hmmm. A local shelter? Maybe. He had little money so a hotel was out of the question. He’d wander around all night and try and stay out of sight. That was his best option? Sadly, yes.