Joe Weber
Primary Target
Acknowledgments
As always, I wish to thank those who provided assistance and wise counsel during the creation of this book. To Jeannie for her encouragement and steady input; Natalee Rosenstein for her kind support and professional guidance; Adele Horwitz for her keen eye and endless patience; Joyce and John Flaherty for their friendship and help.
Other friends and contributors to the book include Colonel Bill Lehman, USAF (Ret.); Mike Hodgden; Nicole Gislason; Christopher P. Baclayon; Timothy K. Kyomya; Larry and Vivi Hodgden; and Captain Terry Chafee.
The novel is the product of my imagination and should not be interpreted as expressing the views of anyone listed above.
Epigraph
Treason doth never prosper: what’s the reason? For if it prosper, none dare call it Treason.
Prologue
With communism a distant memory and oligarchs corruptly seizing hundreds of billions of dollars, political leaders in Moscow faced difficult decisions. The motherland, suffering from an industrial collapse and economic meltdown, was on the brink of social explosion. Would the government be able to overcome the robber barons and their massive security forces before the military took control of the country?
If the tycoons and Mafia were thwarted, would the politicians embrace a Western-style democracy with a market economy, or would they accept a quasidemocratic style of capitalism? Many of the deputies in the Communist party, as well as a large segment of the Russian people, were nostalgic for the cradle-to-grave days of communism. A few of the stouthearted politicians and military leaders openly called for a return to authoritarian rule, whether Communist or fascist, blended with nationalism and militarism.
Thus far, attempts at economic and political reform had been distorted and sabotaged by oligarchs and politicians still faithful to the old Soviet system. Corruption plagued Russia’s fragile economy, from rising crime rates to Mafia ties in the Kremlin. A vast majority of Russians believed that old-line Communists and the KGB secretly transferred billions of dollars out of the country when the reforms were implemented.
The Russian Federation, widely known for questionable election practices, was still considered a menacing and destabilizing force in the world. A force with a powerful military showcased by nuclear-tipped ICBMs and an impressive strategic nuclear submarine fleet. Although the Russian armed forces appeared to be in a state of chaos, the admirals and generals were still actively engaged in preparing for nuclear war with the United States. Unfortunately, the NATO bombing campaign in the Balkan states had exacerbated the situation and soured U.S. relations with Moscow.
1
On the birthday of Soviet founder Vladimir Lenin, blowing snow and bone-chilling temperatures paralyzed Moscow. Thousands of the poor and homeless were standing in government-organized soup lines, shivering as they inched their way toward steaming kettles full of thin, near tasteless broth. They were literally a stone’s throw from where President Nikolai Shumenko would be paying his respects to their deceased founder.
A sense of foreboding, some would call it despair, permeated the frosty air during this miserable day in April. Chaotic political upheavals, combined with a hair-trigger military desperate to compensate for the erosion in the Russian command and control system, were pressuring “hard-liners” like Shumenko to make fateful decisions.
The homeless and oppressed Muscovites watched as Shumenko and his entourage arrived at Red Square in their shiny black limousines. After the officials stepped out of their cars, Shumenko momentarily made eye contact with one of the dispirited men. The stooped man had hollow eyes and a twisted, angry look. The thickset president nodded respectfully, then looked away and walked in silence. Unable to stifle his bitterness, he turned to his friend Yegor Pavlinsky, a former first deputy prime minister.
“Look at these wretched people,” Shumenko grumbled. “I will not allow the Americans to continue to wipe their feet on us,” he said venomously as they approached Lenin’s granite tomb. “Their State Department has slashed funding for another twenty-two agencies in Moscow, and President Macklin has publicly humiliated me about our ties to Iran and Iraq.”
Shumenko gestured toward the soup line. “All this while the economic reforms the technocrats insisted on have impoverished millions of our people.”
“Da,” Pavlinsky said angrily. “The Mafia and the corrupt elite also share the blame for this disaster.” A fervent hardliner and consummate political dealmaker, Pavlinsky cleared his throat. “My friend,” he said morosely, “our crisis, Russia’s crisis, has reached the breaking point. The Americans are catnapping while our economic and political instability represents the greatest threat to global security today.”
Pavlinsky took a quick breath. “If we are to survive, we must infuse more money into our economy, and we must do it quickly.”
Pavlinsky’s impassioned words prompted Shumenko to speak bluntly. “More money,” he growled in protest, “for the mobsters to take to their offshore banks. More money for the corrupt bankers and businessmen to steal and send to Zurich.”
Shumenko’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. “They have systematically looted the Central Bank and sent the money to a variety of phony asset-management companies. We might as well pour the money into the sea.”
“We have no other choice,” Pavlinsky shot back. “The economy is free falling. We’re bankrupt! We must stand together and do what’s best for our motherland,” he exclaimed.
“Lower your voice,” Shumenko said firmly. “We’re riding a hungry lion. Speak quietly and calmly.”
“If we don’t do something drastic to improve our economy,” Pavlinsky said through clenched teeth, “we will lose political control and the country will collapse in anarchy.”
“Nineteen seventeen,” Shumenko said angrily.
“What?”
“We have all the ingredients for another revolution.”
Pavlinsky paused, then lowered his voice. “We can avoid an overthrow and return our country to a position of global prominence,” he said with deep emotion. “We can provide Russia with great wealth and strategic leverage, if you’ll listen to me.”
“I’m listening,” Shumenko said mechanically.
A virulent anti-American, Pavlinsky’s angry voice suggested ominous intentions. “The millions of dollars Washington sprinkles on us, and the billions of dollars we make from Iraq, Iran, and other countries is nothing compared to the four-trillion oil-and-gas bonanza in the Caspian Sea.”
Shumenko’s eyes hardened, challenging his friend. “Keep your voice down,” he insisted in a coarse whisper.
“Working with Iran and Iraq,” Pavlinsky said in a low, raspy tone, “we can provide a nuclear umbrella for a pipeline through Iran to the Persian Gulf. Russia, not the U.S. or the West, will control a key point of distribution and we can drive prices much higher.”
“We’re running out of time.” Shumenko sighed in frustration. “As long as the Americans are entrenched in the Gulf region, your idea will only be a wistful dream.”
“We can force the Americans out of the region,” Pavlinsky said with a distinct harshness in his voice.
Shumenko’s eyes grimly reflected his impatience. “I suppose you have a foolproof plan?”
“Da,” Pavlinsky said stiffly. “The Persian Gulf will be our salvation.” He paused, then turned to face Shumenko. “If we fill the void when the Americans withdraw.”