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‘Fyodor Stephanov and I go back a long way,’ he said. ‘We were in Dresden together that evening in December 1989, when the crowds came to sack the KGB office. We fought them off, didn’t we? Now Fyodor Stephanov has performed an even greater service to the state. Without hesitation or deviation he has exposed himself in the line of duty! So it gives me great pleasure to award him the FSB’s specially created Golden Shower Medal.’

The Kremlin goldsmiths had excelled themselves. One side of the golden medal depicted Titian’s famous image of Danaë Receiving The Golden Rain. The other side of the medal was inscribed simply: ‘For Services Rendered.’

As he pinned the medal to Stephanov’s uniform (it hung from a pentagonal mount covered by an overlapping scarlet ribbon), Popov continued, ‘And I hereby promote this gallant officer to the rank of full colonel.’

As the applause died down, President Popov noticed Lyudmila Markova and her SWAT team looking more than a little disgruntled.

‘Come up here, Lyudmila Markova Sokolovna,’ he urged, ‘and please bring your team too. I believe our good friend, Fyodor Stephanov, has something to give you.’

FSB Colonel Fyodor Stephanov Molotovsky drew himself up to his full height.

‘Dear ladies,’ he said, ‘I bear you no grudge. You were doing your job; I was doing mine. No hard feelings. I’d just like to give you something you overlooked that day you trashed my office and beat me up.’

Stephanov still had the Ronald C. Craig hairpiece in his hand. Once again, he bowed low, and then handed it over to Lyudmila Markova.

Wild applause. The vodka continued to flow.

Lyudmila stood there, holding the hairpiece. ‘Where the hell were you hiding it?’ she asked.

‘In the fridge, at home,’ Stephanov said. ‘If you had looked there behind the pickles, you would have found the US-flag boxer briefs as well!’

Moments later, the president entered the dacha’s press room, where the journalists were waiting. Holding a glass of champagne in his hand, and conscious that the eyes of the world were upon him, Popov made a solemn and statesmanlike speech.

‘A few hours ago, Presidential elections finished in the United States of America. We have been following this event with attention and I would like to congratulate the American people on the exemplary conduct of their electoral process. I would also like to congratulate Mr Ronald Craig on his victory. We have heard his electoral program when he was still a candidate. He spoke about resuming and restoring relations between Russia and the United States. We are ready to play our part in this, and to do everything in our power to return Russia–America relations to a stable development track. This would serve the wellbeing of both the Russian and the American people. And it would have a positive effect on the general climate of global affairs, taking into account the special responsibility of Russia and the US to sustain global responsibility and security.’

Christine Amadore, CNN’s dashing, raven-haired star reporter, anchoring CNN’s all-night coverage of Russia’s reactions to the unfolding events, was the first to ask a question.

‘You just congratulated the US on the exemplary conduct of their electoral process, Mr President. Do you really believe that?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ President Popov replied solemnly. ‘Elections must always be free and fair.’

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Spring comes late in Moscow. There were still piles of slushy snow on the streets that morning in April 2017, when President Igor Popov summoned Yuri Yasonov and Galina Aslanova to his private den in the Kremlin to hear their latest reports on Operation Tectonic Plate.

‘Let’s look at Europe first,’ he said. ‘Yuri, please give us your summary of events to date.’

‘I’d say we are totally on track, Mr President,’ Yuri Yasonov replied. ‘Britain’s new prime minister, Mabel Killick, wasn’t a Leaver during the Referendum campaign. She wasn’t very active as a Remainer either. She kept her powder dry. Then, when David Cole, the former justice minister, stabbed Harry Stokes in the back before committing hara-kiri himself, Mrs Killick seized her opportunity. She threw her hat in the ring and was elected by the Conservative Party as their new leader. That meant she became prime minister too, since the British Constitution doesn’t require the prime minister to be actually elected by the people before taking on the job.’

Popov was puzzled. ‘I thought Britain was the “cradle of democracy”.’

‘Basically not!’ Yasonov explained. ‘In the old days, Conservative Party leaders would emerge from smoke-filled rooms. They do better nowadays. Actually, no one in the end stood against Mrs Killick, so she didn’t have to fight an election of any kind.’

‘As prime minister,’ Yasonov continued, ‘Mabel Killick has been an out-and-out Brexiteer. We couldn’t have asked for more.’

Popov nodded. ‘Wasn’t there a bad moment when that wild woman – what was her name?– managed to get the UK Supreme Court to rule that if the Brexit campaign had been about “taking back sovereignty” then at the very least the UK government should consult Parliament before making the formal application to Leave?’

Yuri Yasonov laughed. ‘Tina Moller – what a brilliant woman! She had the Supreme Court eating out of her hand. Mrs Killick caved in and agreed to a parliamentary vote. What else could she do once the Supreme Court had ruled? Luckily, the British Parliament is a bit like our Duma. They’ll do what they’re told if you slap them around a bit. They call it the “whipping system”.’

‘In the good old days we had the knout,’ Popov mused. ‘So two years from now Britain’s out of the EU?’

‘Exactly,’ Yuri Yasonov replied. ‘March 29th, 2019 is Brexit Day. Article 50 has been triggered. It’s a non-recallable missile.’

‘What about the rest of Europe? How are we doing?’ Popov asked.

‘The Dutch result was a bit disappointing. Our man, Geert Donkers, did well, but not well enough. We have high hopes in France, though. Martine Le Grand is bound to make it through to the run-off in the presidential election. Too early to say what’s going to happen in Germany. That’s the big one of course, from our point of view.’

Popov turned to Galina Aslanova, Head of the FSB’s Special Operations Unit.

‘What about the US, Galina? Why isn’t President Craig playing the game?’ he asked. ‘I thought we had a clear understanding with Craig. Lay off Assad. That’s what we told him. And what does he do? He fires off sixty Tomahawk missiles. Why did we push so hard to get Craig elected, if he’s going to kick us in the teeth at the first opportunity? It’s a pity, isn’t it, that the Golden Shower tape turned out to be fake? We could have used that now, couldn’t we?’

Of course, Galina Aslanova knew that President Popov was joking. By now she had learned to read the telltale signs: the slight twitch in the left eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile in the upper lip. But his remark about the Golden Shower tape set her thinking nonetheless.

Back in her office in the FSB’s Lubyanka building, she summoned Lyudmila Markova.

‘There’s something fishy, Lyudmila,’ she began. ‘When you and your team were beating up on Fyodor Stephanov that day in St Petersburg, looking for the Golden Shower video, why didn’t Stephanov cry foul? Why didn’t he say he was an old mucker of Popov’s, going way back?’

‘Maybe he didn’t want the president to know he had been freelancing?’ Lyudmila Markova replied. ‘As a matter of fact, Popov still doesn’t know that Stephanov was freelancing, does he? Of course, the FSB has been happy to claim the credit, happy to see Stephanov given the Golden Shower Award and elevated to the rank of full colonel. It reflects well on all of us, but still I think there’s something that doesn’t smell right.’