‘What can I say, sir, that it would be an honour.’
‘That’s what I hoped you would say and no more, Colonel… Major General now.’
JULY 1989
Chapter 26
MOSCOW, LUBYANKA, KGB HEADQUARTERS
‘I’ll give you Afghan economics,’ said Konstantin coldly; he had been trying to get his point over for the past half-hour. ‘This is how it works: 5,000 tons of opium, 500 tons of heroin, $250 billion dollars street value. It doesn’t come much bigger.’
The KGB chair, Karzhov, nodded. General Vdovin sat silent next to him.
‘Occupation or no occupation, Najibullah needs arms and the Soviet Union wants to supply him arms; well, I can do that… Geneva Accord or no Geneva Accord,’ he said, trying to not to raise his voice. While the KGB were past masters at espionage, frustratingly, their apparent grasp of markets was less secure.
In fact, forget Najibullah, he thought, they were all at it – more factions and tribes than he could name – they all wanted to get their hands on more weaponry to kill each other.
‘Look, you sell me arms, I pay you in dollars, they pay me in opium and it costs this country nothing in Russian lives. The Americans were at it before, and now it is our turn.’
The KGB chairman stared at him a moment. ‘And where do you make opium into heroin?’
‘Along the border with Pakistan. I just need the political cover to operate – like before – and an arms licence, that’s the new bit. The KGB receives a share and you get a slice into your Swiss account. You don’t have to worry about the transactions in between, delivery… nothing… that’s my responsibility.’
‘But you want support – my support?’
‘Yes. I don’t want the military breathing down my neck… that new guy, General what’s his name… their rising star?
‘General Marov?’ said Karzhov.
‘Yes, General Yuri Marov… Well, when they brought him back from wherever he was and put him in charge of the Afghan pull-out, he gave me a lot of grief. Grounded aircraft, delayed shipments to my suppliers, questions, questions. He never caught us out; we were always a step ahead, well informed, thanks to you.’
‘He’s nobody’s fool. He complained to the Defence Ministry. Fortunately, they see things the same way we do,’ said Karzhov.
Konstantin remembered bumping into Marov in Kabul at a late-night bar only the month before. He was with a beautiful Persian woman. It was the general who had approached him.
‘I don’t want you fuelling this conflict while I am reducing the garrison,’ he had warned him. ‘I have one hundred thousand men to get out of here as safely as I can.’
Thirty minutes later the bar had been abandoned in the face of a rocket attack from outside the city.
‘I find a rocket with a Made in Russia sign on it, I’ll make it my personal business to make sure the person who put it in their hands pays,’ was the general’s parting shot.
He was a cut above most Russians, Konstantin thought, and had money too, that was the rumour. Marov was not someone he could buy, that was clear. And wasn’t he thick with Revnik and his old flame?
‘What precisely is the general up to now?’ asked Konstantin.
Vdovin, who had remained mostly silent until then, spoke.
‘Apart from the pull-out… reorganisation of the military.’
The KGB chairman shook his head. ‘God knows where it will end. The general secretary,’ he said in a mocking tone, ‘is discussing a troop withdrawal from Eastern Europe. Our enemies must be rubbing their hands with glee.’
‘And where does the Politburo sit in all of this?’ asked Konstantin. It was hard to keep track of events, they were unfolding so fast.
Karzhov shrugged. ‘They’re all clowns,’ he jeered, ‘there’s even talk of devolving more powers to the republics.’
The Soviet Union seemed to be teetering towards collapse,
Karzhov threw a glance at General Vdovin, who nodded back.
‘The general says you are to be trusted?’
‘We’ve worked well together so far; our interests are not dissimilar,’ Konstantin replied.
‘There is a group of us, a small group, but I am sure with wide general support, who are committed to ensuring that the Soviet Union does not disintegrate, that all that has been achieved through decades of sacrifice is not lost.’
‘That we do not wake up one morning with the Americans and NATO parked on our borders,’ interjected Vdovin.
‘Quite…’ continued Karzhov, ‘we do not intend to dismantle our general forces or lower our strategic guard.’
Nuclear capability by another name, thought Konstantin.
‘And how do you intend to prevent that?’ Konstantin asked. A revived Soviet Union would make his life a lot simpler.
‘By any means,’ the KGB chairman said, looking at him directly.
There had been countless talk of coups. Something had to give, Konstantin thought. Back in Leningrad it had become so bad that the newly elected mayor was doling out Western food relief. And here he was with arguably the most powerful man in Russia talking about any means – that old communist epithet.
‘And in what way do you want my help?’ said Konstantin before the chairman asked him.
‘You have your network, not unlike our own, covert… global… sworn to secrecy? You understand the meaning of betrayal,’ Karzhov continued.
‘We don’t have defectors… not live ones, if that’s what you mean.’
‘You have political and business affiliations, money and… what shall we call it, your own security force? When the time comes… when our plans are further advanced, I might call on you for support… to neutralise, shall we say, anti-Soviet elements… Do we have an understanding?’
‘Of course, Comrade Chairman… and the arms licence?’
The chairman nodded. ‘You’ll have that by the end of today.’
Chapter 27
MOSCOW
For a split second, Yuri struggled to remember her name, distracted by the twin sensation of her finger, as it traced the long shrapnel scar on his left side, and her tongue, that flicked over his lips… Natasha.
‘General Yarouchka,’ she whispered, using the diminutive. ‘Surely a general can make his men wait.’
General Yuri Marov moved back a few inches to take her in. Her auburn hair fell straight to her shoulders. She was still wearing the blouse she wore the previous evening hung open and off one shoulder.
‘What meeting is more important than me?’ She lunged forward with bared teeth to bite his lower lip as he snapped back out of range, grabbed her by the shoulder and overbalanced her onto the bed, pushing her face into the pillow. His hand traced the inside of her leg.
‘I knew you were KGB when I first laid eyes on you!’ he said, laughing. He had met Natasha two nights before at a high-level Moscow party. She was a cut above many of the women he had dated, an ex-model turned businesswoman. She ran her own Moscow agency specialising in exporting models to Western Europe.
‘I have to be going…’ He let go of her and jumped off the bed like a trapper releasing a wild animal. She rolled over.
‘You have a beautiful apartment.’
He guessed what she was thinking, how this on a general’s pay?
His apartment on the Arbat had indeed cost him a great deal of money; army pay would hardly have covered a studio rental within the Sadovaya Koltso – the Garden Ring – around Moscow.