The crowd cheered again, but this time, a pocket of the group exploded into violence. Nearly a dozen people were locked in mortal combat before Moscow uniformed policemen pushed their way through to them, stunned them with Tasers, and carried the unconscious men and women from the crowd.
Cherkshan picked up the phone on his desk.
It was answered at once. “Yes, General Cherkshan.”
“There has been an incident at the President’s speech. I want to know the names of the people involved immediately.”
“Yes, General.”
As Cherkshan hung up the phone, he looked at the pictures of his children sitting on his desk. Rodion was employed with the Alga Bank Group, one of the most powerful in the country, and was expecting his second child. Cherkshan was proud of his son.
His daughter, Anna, was something else. While Rodion had been educated in Switzerland, Anna had chosen an American school, the Columbia School of Journalism. If Cherkshan had had his way, his daughter would not have gone to the United States. She had already been too defiant as it was, a victim of the encroaching capitalist ways.
But Katrina had stepped in and insisted. Cherkshan loved his wife and would until the day he died. However, he would also regret sending Anna off to the United States. She was forever lost to him these days.
He preferred to remember her as the small girl he had shared make-believe tea parties with. The one who’d insisted on taking care of him when he was sick or recovering from a bullet wound. That was the daughter he’d been proud to raise.
The one he knew now would have been among those dozen or so protestors carried out by the Moscow Police.
Thankfully, she was at the archeological dig at Herat. Cherkshan had been watching that, as well, because a link to Alexander the Great had come up. Since his promotion to his current position, he’d taken to heart the location of the top five historians who knew about Alexander the Great. All of them were currently digging through mounds of research material.
He turned his attention back to Nevsky.
“I will admit to this buildup, if that’s what my detractors want to call it. But I call it this: a munitions corporation. We are making Russian pistols and rifles that anyone would be proud to own. We’re going to sell them to buyers around the world. Like many other countries in the West, we are going to become munitions suppliers. People want guns. We will provide them. And it will create Russian jobs.”
The crowd cheered again.
After thanking the people for coming, Nevsky departed the podium with his personal security detachment from the Federal Protective Service. The FSO agents were watched over by FSB agents. Cherkshan didn’t feel relieved until the men had Nevsky inside the ZIL limousine provided by the Special Purpose Garage.
A few minutes later, as Cherkshan knew it would, his phone rang. He picked it up and muted the television. “Yes, Mr. President.”
“How do you think the address went?”
“I think it went well. I also think that news services in the West are going to make a lot of the story.”
“Let them. It doesn’t matter. They can’t stop what I am doing even if I were to announce it aloud.”
Cherkshan knew that was true. The United States and NATO, due to the way they had been stretched throughout the Middle East and Africa lately, wouldn’t be ready to go head-to-head in retaliation. The United States had moved a few ships around in the Mediterranean Sea and the Pacific, but that was to be expected. They had to show strength.
However, they weren’t going to pull the trigger.
Using the remote control, Cherkshan flipped through channels, coming to a halt on a CNN feed. The view was of the dig site in Herat. He watched as the camera showed some of the faces in the crowd, looking to see if Anna was there.
“I would like to talk to you about another matter, Mr. President.”
“Of course.”
“The dig at Herat.”
“Yes.”
“It was announced that the tomb has something to do with Alexander the Great.”
“So I heard last night. It seems I was a bit hasty in cutting Professor Glukov’s funding. I should have stayed with him.”
Cherkshan chose not to respond to that. “I would like to send some agents out there. To look things over and see what — if anything — he has found.”
“It’s already taken care of, General. I sent a man last night. I didn’t want to distract you from our plans for the Ukraine.”
The Ukraine was a totally different issue. The former prime minister of that country had created difficulties concerning the natural gas supplies Russia shipped to Western Europe through the Ukraine. She had pushed for her nation to become a member of the European Union and step away completely from Russia.
If that was done, and the West was hoping it would happen, the Russian economy would be dealt a devastating blow from which it might not ever recover.
In a matter of days, Nevsky intended to send an invading force into the Ukraine, to turn the country back into a Russian satellite. It was going to be dangerous, but Cherkshan had confidence that the attack strategy he had worked out with his generals was feasible.
If—when—they secured the Ukraine, things would be different. Russia would be different.
“I want your focus to be totally on the Ukraine, General. That is why I took care of this situation myself.”
“I understand, Mr. President. If you need anything from me regarding this matter, let me know.”
“I need the Ukraine, my friend. Bring that country under Russian control, and you will lay the largest stepping-stone we have had in decades.”
“It will be done.”
Nevsky said goodbye and ended the call.
For a moment, Cherkshan watched the television screen. He was thinking of Anna when he saw the camera suddenly zoom in on a man who had staggered and gone down. As the image came into better focus, Cherkshan saw the blood streaming from a huge wound in the man’s face as his eyes stared into the camera.
17
Lourds’s excitement built as he followed Boris down the passageway. Electrical cables ran the length of the tunnel, and bright lights ripped away the darkness. Somewhere from deep in the cave system, a generator thumped out a steady rhythm. Uniformed ANP guards stood at junctures in the cave system.
“I’ve been very careful to preserve the site since I found it.” Stone dust coated Boris, and he sounded tired.
“You found it last night?”
“Yes. And started calling you immediately.”
“And the media in between that.”
“Of course. This has the potential to be stupendous. Did you know that no one knows where Alexander the Great’s final resting place is?”
“Yes.” Lourds negotiated a sharp turn and reflected on what he could remember of the Macedonian ruler from the information he’d reviewed on the plane trip. “Alexander died in 323 BCE—”
“Of mysterious circumstances.”
Lourds nodded. “Possibly mysterious circumstances. He might have died from an overdose of hellebore.”
“That was never proven.”
“No, but it is known that Alexander was grieving over the death of Hephaestion, one of his generals and a nobleman in his own right. They had been friends since childhood.”
“Yes, and Aristotle wrote of them that they were ‘one soul abiding in two bodies.’ There is some conjecture that they were also lovers. But that is neither here nor there. So much about Alexander isn’t known, not the least of which is how he was able to conquer so much of the known world. And remember that Hephaestion’s death was also a mystery.”