“Communications. Can we make a phone call?”
“A phone call, sir?”
“Yes. How many billion did this thing cost, and you mean we can’t make a phone call?”
“Yes, sir I can. I’ve just never been asked before.”
“Let her make one then.” He made the connection.
She punched the Washington number in on a keyboard and it rang.
“Hello, Saul’s Stamps.”
“Hello, it’s Marie. Do you have any 1850 Brazilian Goats eyes?”
“I can get the stamp for you.”
“Thanks, I’ll call in.”
She hung up. “Thank you, Captain.”
Within an hour a message was received after the boat made a regular satellite communications report prior to the dive. Franks found Yana in the Galley.
“I’ve just received a message from your people. CIA I guess, via CINCUSNAVEUR NAVAL FORCES EUROPE. We’re to proceed to Trabzon immediately. You’ll fly via Trabzon and Ankara to Washington for a meeting. We’ll get there early afternoon. We’ll meet the two men who brought you in their boat. I’ll take a chance with a brief surface offshore.” Franks pointed to the serving hatch. “You’re in luck. Mexican tonight, they’re good at it.”
A DARK BLUE MERCEDES limousine pulled up to the Kremlin gate. A guard checked papers and looked at the occupants, then waved the limousine inside. She climbed out and entered the Grand Kremlin palace with two plain clothed guards either side of her.
The hall was large and opulent, covered in marble and gold, and at its centre was a large desk with several uniformed men sat around it. One wore a suit.
The Director of the Main Directorate of the Russian General Staff, or GRU, took her place at the table, nodding to the other guests. Olga Andreeva looked at the high Military Council. It was her first meeting. She’d served as Lieutenant General in the GRU, Military Intelligence Corps.
Present was the Director of the SVR RF Pavel Ivanov, he was responsible for the security of external affairs, succeeding the First Chief Directorate of the KGB.
The Minister of Defense along with the Chief of General Staff, Gerasimov. Fleet Admiral Chirkov. Colonel General Komarov of the Russian Aerospace forces. The President walked in and sat. All gathered knew he was a man of few words. When he wanted it done, it had better be done quickly. His one passion was tea. He waited until it was served from the Samovar. Only Darjeeling Tea from West Bengal, India would do. He took a sip and savoured it.
“Speak, Ivanov.”
“Sir, the SVR RF have information that NATO, led by the Americans is planning a move against us.”
“How reliable is this information, Andreeva?”
“Sir we agree. It’s unwelcome, but reliable. They are taking advantage of the unrest in Ukraine. It’s not unexpected,” she said.
“Admiral Chrikov?”
“We agree sir. NATO could be gathering to push into the Black Sea.”
“Could be, Admiral? I don’t deal with ‘could’. I only what is and isn’t.”
“NATO says it’s an impromptu exercise, sir.” Chirkov shrugged. “I don’t deal with intentions, only capabilities.”
The President looked at his wristwatch. “I don’t want to waste time. This is a military matter. Have you discussed this in detail?”
“Yes President, we have,” said Chief of General Staff, Gerasimov.
“What is your solution Gerasimov?”
“Sir, we recommend executing Operation Black Storm.”
The President stood, he knew it was a very big step and would have serious consequences. “Then execute Black Storm immediately.” The President turned and left. He knew they’d carry out his wishes.
SHE SAW THE BESPECTACLED man on his way towards her, and put down the phone. He’d arranged to meet her at Dulles and drive her to Langley.
They passed down the long corridor then turned into the side corridor. The man called an elevator. Bruce walked in and swiped his card across a reader. The elevator ascended, then opened onto a long corridor lined with broad-leaved plants where a cleaner worked on a row of plants. They finally came to the office.
“Hi Elle, I’m back.”
The woman gave her a weak smile, took her pass and ran it through a scanner. Yana had to hold her fingers over the fingerprint scanners.
The woman smiled at her. “Ok Miss Borisova, he’s waiting.” Yana walked into his old English drawing room office. Owen stepped forward and shook her hand.
“Hi, Yana. Tea, coffee?”
“Thanks, I’ll have coffee please.” Own nodded. His bespectacled assistant poured the coffees. Owen gestured to a large dark leather couch. Yana sat.
His assistant set the coffees down on a low dark wood table.
“I’ll be outside Sir, if you need me.”
“Thanks Bruce.” He left.
“Oreos?”
Yana smiled. “Yes, I’ll have one.”
“So how did it go? Not too well I think, judging by the bruising. You’re getting a black eye.”
She smiled. “On contry, it did.”
“It’s pronounced ‘on the contrary’,” said Owen, frowning. “You were picked up by the pro Russians. We need to go for option two. We pulled you out to get the information needed, to give option two the best chance of success.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, Owen. It was a success. The men who captured me; they were pretending to be Russian sympathisers, but they were DRP.”
Owen narrowed his eyes. “They were DRP?”
She nodded. “Yes. We have to be careful, Russian sympathisers are plentiful. It’s easier to hide amongst them by appearing to be one.”
“But the beatings they gave you? Did they…?”
“Did they rape me? No, they didn’t. But I’d have taken it. It must look real. They were my people.”
Owen frowned, to go through that must have been hard.
“We have spies planted deep in their system. Ukraine and Russia go back to the days of the Soviet Union. We were close. It was one-sided, mostly, but close. I was told what the Russians plan to do, Owen.”
He poured her another coffee. This had the taste of truth about it. “Go on Yana; what do you know of their plans?”
She gathered her wits about her. “Their fear is that NATO will take advantage of the Ukraine situation. They believe that the evidence points to something they dread. The Russians believe that NATO is planning a large naval deployment into the Black Sea, that it will seek to dominate the area by basing itself at the Golkuc naval base on the Sea of Marmara, near Istanbul. The Black Sea ports of Sinop and Trabzon will be expanded to deploy a large naval force. They have plans showing that eventually NATO will base forces and deploy from Odessa in the Ukraine itself.”
“There are no such plans,” said Owen dismissively.
She smirked. “They would say; can you be sure? Is it not possible that plans are being hatched by a group in the Pentagon?”
“There isn’t, I can tell you that.”
Yana stood and poured them both a coffee.“What matters is that they think that there is.” She passed him the coffee. She spoke as though she was older than her years. “Owen. That’s the real world and we must live in it.” She sat. “The Russian President has ordered Operation Black Storm,” she fixed him with a firm gaze. “Preparations will be underway now. There won’t be much time.”
He was intrigued. “What is Operation Black Storm?”
Yana stood and folded her arms. “Was it the Chinese military strategist Sun Tzu who framed the tactic, the best form of defense is attack?”
Chapter 7
A LOUD ‘WHOOP, WHOOP’ sound beat the air above Sevastopol. A Kamov Ka-27 anti-submarine helicopter made its way across the bay. Two men walked along a road overlooking the isthmus.