“Cutting off testicles of disrespectful sergeants,” Lurbud retorted. The two men crashed together in the center of the room like sea lions, pounding each other’s backs in reunion.
“How have you been, Dimitri?” Lurbud asked, smiling for the first time since killing Suleiman.
“Bored in Minsk until I got a call to meet you here,” replied Demanov, kissing Lurbud in the traditional Russian way. “It is good to see you again, Evad.”
“And you too, old friend.”
Lurbud and Demanov had fought side by side in Afghanistan. They had shared more freezing nights and narrow escapes than either could remember.
Demanov had stayed in the field after Lurbud’s promotion and ended the war as the Soviet Union’s third most decorated soldier. Since that time, he had gone on to be an instructor of the Spetnez, Russia’s special forces, but had recently retired to a deteriorating existence. The stout, grizzled sergeant was a warrior in the truest sense of the word.
The safe room took up the entire top floor of the building and was designed to be used as a hideout for several weeks if necessary. There were beds for a dozen people. The kitchen shelves were crammed with canned food. Several huge drums were filled with water in case the building’s supply was ever cut off. Light streamed through the multiple windows, but was diffused by the layers of caked dust that made it impossible to see into the room from the street.
“I trust everyone got past customs without incident?” Lurbud asked.
“There were no problems, we all arrived before the airport was shut down,” Demanov responded.
Lurbud took a moment to scrutinize the troops Demanov had brought with him. They were all former Spetnez, men more loyal to Demanov than to their Motherland. Without exception, they were the finest trained commandos the Russian army had ever produced — their instruction went much further than Gregory Brezhnicov’s KGB guards in New York, who had been murdered the day before by an unknown assailant.
None of the men were especially large or hulking, but there was an air of competence about them which was chilling. Their minds and bodies had been sharpened to a rapier’s edge by endless training and actual combat experience.
Though they never admitted it, both the United States and Russia “lent” some of their Special Forces troops to various war-ravaged nations so the men could gain practical understanding of battlefield operations. It wouldn’t shock Lurbud to learn that these men had faced an American Ranger battalion on the hills above Sarajevo just a few years earlier.
“How did you assemble such a large force so quickly?”
“Army pay isn’t what it used to be, Evad. As you know, the country’s full of out of work soldiers. Finding commandos in Russia is easier than finding syphilis in a whorehouse.”
“Did you have time to brief them in Minsk?”
“I told them that they would be fighting with you. That was all they needed to hear.”
“Do you have any doubts about them, Dimitri?”
Demanov lit a cigarette and enjoyed the first few drags before answering. “In my career, I’ve trained Egyptians to fight Israelis, Angolans to fight South Africans, Nicaraguans to fight Salvadorans, and a dozen other groups to fight another dozen. I knew from the beginning that I was training a surrogate Russian army to fight a surrogate American one. Each time, I’d run across an American or two, ‘advisors,’ toting the most sophisticated weapons in their arsenal. But those contacts were fleeting. Just once I want to face the Americans in an open fight and prove once and for all who’s been pumped full of propaganda and who is the best. Now that I’m finally getting my chance, I can’t think of a better group of men to back me up — and that includes you, sir.”
Lurbud was impressed with Demanov’s speech and his old friend’s conviction. “It seems that since the last time I saw you, you’ve become a philosopher.”
“I haven’t met a soldier who wasn’t one,” Demanov said seriously. “So why is it that the shadowy Kerikov has paid us so handsomely to be here?”
“What were you told by him?”
“That he needed a trained commando team ready to fight in the United States as the last part of a very old operation.”
“Yes and no,” Lurbud said, taking a seat on one of the cots. “You are needed, but your presence here is a deviation from a very old operation. The current unrest on the islands is a direct result of Department Seven’s most ambitious plan, one which almost worked. Hawaii would have become a Soviet puppet if things had gone according to plan. We’re here to mop up and cut our losses.”
Demanov could not hide his astonishment. “I don’t understand, Evad.”
“Several months ago, Department Seven approached a very wealthy and eccentric local billionaire named Takahiro Ohnishi and asked him to assist us in an operation called Vulcan’s Forge. In return for his help, Kerikov promised to use Russian resources to back a coup attempt that would split Hawaii away from the rest of the United States. Of course Kerikov never planned to aid Ohnishi in any way, but his involvement was necessary. Two different options had to be left open until certain scientific data was obtained concerning a volcanic island forming north of here. Now that we have this information the coup is no longer necessary and neither is Ohnishi. Unfortunately, Ohnishi has already started his rebellion. He must be stopped.”
“That’s where we come in,” Demanov interrupted.
“Yes. We’re here to eliminate Ohnishi. For now we wait until Kerikov gets in touch. There is another aspect of this mission I didn’t tell you about, a submarine monitoring the volcano to the north. Kerikov is waiting for word from them before we put our plan into action.” He lied to his friend. In fact, the John Dory was waiting for word from him. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dimitri, but you won’t get the chance to take on the American army, only the guards around Ohnishi’s mansion.”
“They’re still Americans, Evad. It’ll be close enough.”
Arlington, Virginia
As soon as Tish entered the rec room of Mercer’s house, she threw herself onto the leather couch with an exhausted sigh.
“You didn’t talk much on the way back from the White House,” she said, not looking at Mercer. “You must be exhausted. I’ve been asleep for most of the day, but you haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”
“Closer to forty,” replied Mercer from behind the bar. He was making a pot of his barely potable coffee. “Want some coffee?”
“Are you crazy?” Tish sat up and looked at him. “Go to bed; you’re dead on your feet.”
Mercer let the coffeemaker drip directly into a mug before sliding the glass pot under the nozzle. He was about to take a sip, thought for a moment, then poured a dram of Scotch into the cup. The first taste was sublime.
“I’m afraid it’ll be a while before I sleep. We have to talk.”
The tone of Mercer’s voice made Tish swing her long legs from the couch and stand up. She crossed to the bar and took one of the six dark cane stools. “Is something wrong?”
“Tell me about Valery Borodin,” Mercer invited nonchalantly.
“I don’t know any. .” He saw that Tish was flustered by the question.
“Tish, right now I could have you detained by the FBI for your involvement in this plot. I haven’t because you’re Jack Talbot’s daughter, but I’m not taking bets on how long I remain silent.”