The Target

by Saul Herzog

  They were sitting on some corporate sofas that were arranged in an L-shape and there was a coffee machine on the sideboard next to them.

  “You want a refill?” Laurel said, getting up.

  Tatyana shook her head. She had her leg up on the sofa and it seemed to be recovering well since the doctor in Berlin had taken a look at it.

  “I wouldn’t mind something a little stronger,” she said.

  Laurel looked at her watch. It was seven AM.

  “What?” Tatyana said.

  “Bit early, isn’t it?”

  “What else are we going to do. We’re trapped here. We can’t communicate with DC. I can’t even walk.”

  Laurel poured Tatyana a cup of the strong, black coffee.

  “Thanks,” Tatyana said.

  Riga was in utter chaos. They’d seen it in the cab ride from the hotel. The phone lines were still down, cell phones, Internet, satellite comms. TV and radio was down apart from some prerecorded government message telling people to remain calm.

  In addition, riots during the night had left dozens dead. In a city as peaceful as Riga, that was a calamity of epic proportions. At multiple spots, police had clashed with rioters, and as the riots grew more violent, tear gas, rubber bullets, and even live ammunition had been deployed.

  Banks and department stores across the city had been looted, cars burned out, property destroyed on a grand scale.

  What worried Laurel however, was the political motivation behind the riots. She’d seen them from the hotel. The people weren’t calling for the power to be turned back on, they were calling for Russia to take control of the country.

  A man walked across the lobby and introduced himself.

  “Ladies, my name is Greenfeld. I’m the station chief here.”

  “Thank you for having us here,” Tatyana said, trying to bring her foot off the sofa.

  “Please,” Greenfeld said, “make yourself as comfortable as you can. On a day like today, I think it’s best for us all to be together.”

  “Any update on when the comms will be re-established?” Laurel said.

  “They’re still working on it,” Greenfeld said, “but in the next hour we’re expecting direct helicopter flights from the nearest neighboring embassies giving us updates on what’s been going on.”

  “That’s assuming those embassies aren’t in the dark themselves,” Tatyana said.

  Greenfeld nodded.

  With the Keyhole system down, the scale of the Russian operation was unknown. Maybe it extended beyond Latvia’s borders. Maybe all comms across the region were down. Without getting an update, they knew nothing.

  “I just got more reports from my field agents in the city,” Greenfeld said. “Large protest groups are gathering at the main government buildings in Riga again today.”

  “This is a coordinated assault on all fronts at once,” Laurel said.

  Greenfeld nodded. “And there are rumors that the protests aren’t just limited to Riga. They’ve spread to other cities across the country.”

  “The protests are part of the attack,” Tatyana said. “They’ve been planned and set in motion by the Kremlin.”

  Greenfeld nodded. “These are the largest protests in the country since the days of the USSR,” he said.

  “They’re the precursor to an invasion,” Tatyana said. “All of this is. Cutting the power. Cutting the comms. Destabalizing the country on all fronts.”

  “When will the invasion come?” Greenfeld said.

  Tatyana looked at both of them. “Soon,” she said.

  Greenfeld sat down. He looked deflated. Laurel wasn’t surprised. He was the head CIA asset in-country and he was completely cut off from Langley.

  “I feel like we’re sitting on a time bomb,” he said.

  Tatyana nodded. She leaned back in the sofa and said, “What do you think that marine over there would say if I lit a cigarette?”

  Laurel smiled. “This isn’t a Russian embassy, Tatyana. You can’t just do whatever you like.”

  “Come on,” Tatyana said.

  Laurel stood up. “Wait a second,” she said. “At least let me talk to him first.”

  She walked over to the marine’s desk putting a little sway in her hips. She smiled. She wasn’t above using her femininity to get something when she needed to, and when she reached the guard’s desk, she leaned forward, giving him a view of her cleavage.

  “Hey,” she said, “what are the chances we could light up a couple of cigarettes over there?”

  A wide grin crossed the marine’s face.

  “You think it would be okay?” Laurel said.

  The marine looked over at Tatyana, and Tatyana waved back.

  “Lady,” the marine said, “you and your friend can do whatever you want to do.”

  “Thank you,” Laurel said.

  She gave him even more hip sway on her walk back to the sofa, where Tatyana was already lighting her cigarette.

  One of the men from the crew working on the roof walked into the lobby and everyone turned to him.

  “Give the comms a try,” he said.

  “Really?” Greenfeld said.

  The guy shrugged.

  There was a television above the sofa and Greenfeld grabbed the remote. The TV was currently running the manufacturer’s screensaver with a message saying ‘no signal.’ Greenfeld flicked through the channels, and suddenly, got a clear signal.

  “Right there,” Laurel said.

  “Channel nine,” Greenfeld said. “RNN.”

  It was the Russian, state-run news service, basically a mouthpiece for Russian government propaganda.

  “Is that the only station that’s working?” Laurel said.

  Greenfeld ran through the rest of the channels but they were all scrambled.

  “Go back to RNN,” Tatyana said, lighting another cigarette.

  Laurel asked her for one.

  On the screen, they saw footage of a small Latvian village. The subtitle confirmed it was Ziguri, the village Agata Zarina had gone to.

  A newscaster was speaking to the camera, and clearly visible behind her, about fifty yards back, was some sort of pyre, like someone had lit an enormous bonfire in the central square of the village. It must have been fifteen feet high. The flames were gone but smoke still rose out of it.

  The newscaster spoke Russian, but a man’s voice was dubbing her in heavily accented Latvian.

  “This morning at dawn,” the voice said, “Latvian military forces brutally crushed anti-government protests in the ethnic Russian village of Ziguri in eastern Latvia.”

  “What the hell?” Laurel said.

  “Are those?” Tatyana said, raising her hand in front of her mouth.

  “The Latvian government has bigger things to worry about than protests in a remote village,” Laurel said.

  “Laurel,” Tatyana said, pointing at the screen. “Those…”.

  “What?” Laurel said.

  “That pile. The fire. Those are … bodies.”

  83

  It was another hour after the RNN news footage came through that the embassy was finally able to restore comms with Washington.

  The first call the station chief made was to Langley, where he asked to be patched through directly to CIA Director Roth.

  Laurel and Tatyana were in his office with him, and when Roth’s voice came on the line, Greenfeld said, “Mr Roth, thank you for taking my call.”

  “Taking your call? We’ve been worried sick about you over here.”

  “I’m here with Laurel Everlane and Tatyana Aleksandrova,” Greenfeld said.

  “Thank God you’re all alright,” Roth said.

  “We’re alright,” Laurel said, “but did you see the footage they’re showing on RNN?”

  “That footage is playing on every news outlet on the planet,” Roth said. “Not just in Latvia. It’s everywhere.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Russians are claiming Latvian soldiers opened fire on a Russian vi
llage. Killed a thousand civilians.”

  “That’s ludicrous,” Laurel said.

  “Of course it is,” Roth said. “The president knows it, congress knows it, our NATO allies know it.”

  “I hope the media is calling it what it is,” Laurel said.

  “There’s a spectrum,” Roth said.

  “What? They’re actually buying it?”

  “Some outlets are, but that’s not our biggest problem right now.”

  “What could be a bigger problem than a massacre?”

  “Russian troops are crossing the border north and south of Ziguri as we speak, Laurel.”

  “They can’t violate Latvian territory.”

  “They’re saying it’s necessary to protect ethnic Russians from further atrocities.”

  “No one’s going to believe that,” Laurel said.

  “Some people will believe the Kremlin no matter what it says.”

  “But we can disprove it, can’t we?”

  “That’s the other issue,” Roth said. “Our Keyhole satellite is down, which means we had no eyes on that village when the massacre took place. If we’re going to prove anything conclusively, it will take time.”

  “And by then it will be too late,” Laurel said.

  “The Russians will be in complete control of the country by then.”

  “We need to hit back,” Laurel said. “This is a violation of a NATO member. We need to bomb those Russian units back to wherever they came from.”

  “That’s what I’m going to tell the president now. I’m just pulling up to the White House.”

  “White House? Shouldn’t you be at the Pentagon?”

  “The president didn’t want to send the wrong signal,” Roth said. “He didn’t want to give the impression we were jumping to conclusions.”

  “Jumping to conclusions? Russia is invading our ally.”

  “I know, Laurel.”

  “We’re under attack, Roth. If he’s worried about impressions, he should be concerned with appearing too weak, not too aggressive.”

  “That’s the problem,” Roth said. “He already addressed the press from the White House and emphasised that we’re not the ones under attack. Latvia is.”

  “But Latvia’s in NATO. If we let Russia pick off our allies one by one, then it won’t be long before they’re at our gate.”

  “I know that,” Roth said, his voice betraying signs of strain. “And believe me, I’ll be arguing forcefully to that effect when I see the president. I’m at the security point now. I should let you go.”

  “You’ve got to make him see sense, Roth. He’s got to stand up to this aggression.”

  “Laurel, I’ll try, but the president doesn’t want to be the man respsonsible for kicking off World War Three.”

  “He’s not kicking it off. It’s already started.”

  “Not in his eyes.”

  Laurel was furious.

  She couldn’t believe this was happening.

  Again.

  First, the president had failed to stand up to Moscow and Beijing when they attacked the embassies. Now he was letting allies be invaded. Where would it end?

  “Roth, tell me what has to happen,” she said, “for this president to see that the Russians are never going to stop. They’re going to push, and push, and unless we start pushing back harder, they’re going to unmake the entire world order we’ve created.”

  “The president has a lot to consider, Laurel. We’re only seeing part of the picture.”

  “Part of the picture?” she said, dumbfounded. “You just told me Russia is re-invading its former Soviet Republics.”

  “I know,” Roth said.

  Their voices were both so loud they were practically shouting at each other.

  Laurel knew Roth was on her side. He was one of the last hawk’s in Washington. But there was only so much he could do. It was the president’s call.

  And that terrified Laurel.

  Because all she could see, more and more, was a leadership in Washington that was unwilling, and unable, to stand up to the forces that were massing against them.

  From the Taiwan Strait to the Baltic, Americas enemies were rattling their sabers, preparing for war, and Washington was just burrowing its head in the sand.

  Roth was the only one who fought the president on the issue of defense. He told the president to his face that he was dropping his guard. That he was creating vulnerabilities.

  Roth was the Watcher on the Wall.

  He was the sentinel.

  Laurel knew she was yelling at the wrong man.

  “I’m sorry,” Laurel said.

  “It’s all right, Laurel. I understand your fears.”

  “Will you at least tell the president that if he allows stronger nations to dominate weaker ones, that the world will descend into chaos.”

  “I’m afraid that the way the president sees it,” Roth said, “we’re the strong nation here.”

  “Only because men better than this president stood up to the dictators of the past. It’s on their shoulders that he stands.”

  “I can’t tell him that,” Roth said.

  “Well, tell him…, I don’t know, Roth. Tell him something.”

  “I’ll do my best, Laurel. But in the meantime, you have to try to get in touch with Lance. If the president doesn’t listen to reason, he might be our only hope of stopping this invasion.”

  “I’ll try to make contact,” Laurel said. “Whatever brought him back, I’m sure glad it did.”

  “Well,” Roth said, “that’s another issue, but we don’t need to discuss it now.”

  “What issue?”

  “Sam, the girl in Montana he was living with, the Russians killed her.”

  “What?”

  “That’s why he’s back, Laurel.”

  “They killed Sam?”

  “Yes, they did.”

  “They fucked up.”

  “Yes, they did.”

  84

  Roth’s vehicle moved toward the White House security checkpoint and Roth opened his window.

  A guard said, “Just you tonight, Mr. Director?”

  “Just me,” Roth said, letting him have a look around the passenger compartment.

  Outside, more guards did a quick check of the undercarriage of the vehicle before waving them through.

  They drove up to the West Wing visitor entrance and Roth was immediately escorted up to the Oval Office.

  He entered the room and found the president seated by the fire. With him was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Elliot Schlesinger. The room was warm, the glow of the fire imbuing it with sense of intimacy. Outside, snow fell silently in the night.

  “Mr. President,” Roth said. “Elliot.”

  Elliot was standing by the bar and he poured three measures of scotch into crystal glasses. He brought them to the seating area by the fire.

  “Thank you,” Roth said, taking a seat.

  The three men sat in silence, staring at each other. Schlesenger put ice in his scotch and the cubes clinked against the glass.

  “Well, gentlemen,” the president said, breaking the silence, “it looks like the day we always dreaded has arrived. We’re closer to war with Russia than at any point since the Kennedy administration.”

  Roth was relieved by the president’s tone. He appeared to be taking Russia’s movements with the gravity they deserved.

  “I’ve ordered the entire cabinet to assemble at the Pentagon.”

  “When, sir?” Roth said.

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “That’s good,” Roth said.

  “I wanted to speak to the two of you before going to the Pentagon,” the president said. “You are the two most hawkish members of my cabinet and it’s important that the three of us present a united front.”

  “I see,” Roth said, uncertain how much of what the president was saying Elliot had already heard.

  “As you are both aware,” he said, “I’ve always been a pacificist at he
art. Russia has been antagonizing us every day I’ve been in power, and I see a large part of my job as preventing a devastating war from breaking out between us and them. That’s what I believe to be my mission from God, if you will. The reason He placed me in this position of great power. The role Providence laid out for me.”

  Roth looked at Elliot uncomfortably. He prayed the president wasn’t going to back down from a fight because of some sign he’d seen.

  “Mr. President,” Roth said. “I think I speak for both myself and Elliot when I saw we have the utmost respect for your beliefs.”

  “If I allow you two to persuade me to go to War with Russia tonight,” the president said, “I may very well be taking the first step down a path that will lead to nuclear war.”

  “Sir,” Schlesinger said, “I don’t think the Russians are looking for an outcome like that.”

  “That may be,” the president said, “but they’ve just committed a massacre on NATO soil, Elliot. I know we’ll try to contain this conflict. I know the Russians will have parameters they’re trying to remain within as well. But we’d be fooling ourselves if we pretended it couldn’t get out of hand.”

  “Have we confirmed that Russians forces have crossed the border?” Roth said. “With Keyhole down, we haven’t been able to confirm their movements through the usual means.”

  “We’ve been forced to switch to NATO SATCOM for all Pentagon systems,” Schlesinger said. “That’s been able to plug some of the gaps created by the attack on Keyhole.”

  “And what do we know?” Roth said.

  “We received imagery in the last few minutes,” Schlesinger said, “that suggests the mobilization of virtually the entire Western Military District.”

  “Good God,” Roth said.

  “Tank divisions are preparing to cross the border as we speak. And Russian soldiers are in the village of Ziguri, where the massacre took place.”

  “What time is it in Riga now?” Roth said.

  “About eight AM,” Schlesinger said.

  “So,” Roth said, “when we get to the Pentagon, what is that we’re going to say.”

  “Well, we’ve got Russian tanks ready to cross the border. What are our options?”

  “With Keyhole down,” Roth said, “our most advanced systems are crippled.”