Blackmail

by Rick Campbell

  As the crowd scattered in every direction, Guimond examined the carnage through his scope: three dead and two wounded politicians. No one would be suspicious of Rudenko. Guimond pushed away from the window and headed toward the door, leaving the rifle and its fingerprints behind.

  30

  ZAPORIZHIA, UKRAINE

  Randy Guimond pulled the curtain back from the window of his room in Hotel Intourist, not far from the apartment he had occupied the previous day. His eyes scanned the crowd gathering in Central Square, site of the murder of three pro-Russian politicians last night. As expected, the crowd was largely ethnic Russian, demanding the government hunt down the assassin and protect the Russian minority from pro-Western radicals. The platform erected for last night’s event still stood at one end of the square, its wood floor stained with the blood of the fallen.

  A half-dozen men and women had taken possession of the stage, taking turns with the microphone, preaching to the growing crowd, while off to the sides of the square, all the major news organizations were covering the event, their cameras rolling. Antigovernment demonstrations and murder, Guimond mused, made for excellent television ratings.

  Guimond leaned forward, obtaining a better view of the square and the regional administration building across Sobornyi Avenue from the square. A few years earlier, Central Square had been the site of Euromaidan protests, leading to the occupation of the government building by four thousand pro-Western demonstrators. However, the shoe was on the other foot this time, with the protesters being predominately pro-Russian. Last night’s attack on Russian sympathizers in Zaporizhia hadn’t been the first, but this time the pro-Western sympathizers had gone too far. The pending arrest of the radical tied to the rifle’s fingerprints would only add fuel to the fire. For now, however, Guimond added fuel of his own.

  Guimond watched several dozen men work their way through the crowd. They were titushky, mercenary agents who supported the Ukrainian police during President Yanukovych’s administration, who were now in desperate need of a paycheck, one Guimond had arranged. However, their goal for this outing had been reversed: rather than intimidate and disperse demonstrators opposing the government, their task today was to reinforce and agitate the crowd.

  In response to the growing mass of people in Central Square, city officials were taking measures to ensure the regional administration building wasn’t overrun again. Zaporizhia’s police force, its members wearing riot gear and holding clear full-body shields, assembled in front of the government building, forming two solid lines. With the help of the titushky, however, this only served to agitate the crowd, drawing their attention to the government building, providing a focus for their frustration.

  Off to the side, the crowd parted as a man, his left arm in a sling, worked his way to the platform. Guimond cracked open the window as Alex Rudenko, one of the two survivors of last night’s savage attack, stepped onto the stage. Taking the microphone in his good hand, he addressed the crowd, and not long into his speech, he pointed out how the occupation of the administration building during Euromaidan had helped pro-Western demonstrators force the government of Zaporizhia to side with western Ukraine instead of its neighboring oblasts to the north. They should seize the building and not leave until Zaporizhia declared its independence. The crowd began moving toward the building, spilling across Sobornyi Avenue.

  An additional squad of Ukrainian police, similarly dressed in riot gear, joined the formation, reinforcing the two lines against the burgeoning crowd of protesters already pushing against the wall of police. What the men and women below didn’t know, however, was that the new squad of police were also titushky, hired for a much different purpose from that of those in the crowd.

  Rudenko’s voice boomed across the square, working the crowd into a frenzy, and the mass of demonstrators surged against the long blue line, attempting to break through to the government building.

  A shot rang out and a protester in front of the police fell to the ground. The crowd simultaneously broke in two directions, some fleeing from the police while others charged the line. Additional shots were fired and another dozen protesters collapsed onto the ground. There was pandemonium in the street as the spectators scattered, with Ukrainian police continuing to gun down the protesters. All captured on camera.

  Guimond released the curtain, letting it drift across the window.

  31

  MOSCOW

  It was 5 p.m. when Christine O’Connor’s limousine pulled up to the century-old Hotel National, only a stone’s throw away from the Kremlin, with her hotel room offering a stunning view of the five palaces and four cathedrals enclosed within the Kremlin walls. After a hard day’s work negotiating the finer details of the follow-on treaty to New START, Christine stepped from the limo, bidding farewell to her translator. As she entered the hotel lobby, she noticed crowds gathered around the television monitors. She stopped and watched a video of protesters being gunned down in a city square, followed by interviews of injured and bloodied victims. Christine stopped by the hotel concierge, asking him what was going on.

  The concierge explained what had occurred in the Zaporizhia Oblast of Ukraine, situated just below the Donbass. Tensions in the oblast had run high since Euromaidan, with the population split between pro-Western and pro-Russian sympathizers, and public demonstrations had sometimes turned violent. However, nothing like this had occurred before—government forces gunning down pro-Russian protesters.

  Christine thanked the concierge and was about to head to her hotel room when Russian President Yuri Kalinin appeared on the TV screens. He was giving a press conference, camera bulbs flashing, as he stood behind a podium emblazoned with the Russian Federation seal. Christine leaned toward the concierge, asking him to translate as Kalinin spoke.

  President Kalinin was furious, the concierge explained, due to yet another case of ethnic Russians being persecuted by the new Ukrainian government. Russia had a responsibility, Kalinin proclaimed, to ensure the safety of all Russians, even those beyond its borders, and he would evaluate options on how to respond to Ukraine’s aggression. When a reporter asked if the options included the use of military force, Kalinin stated all options were on the table, and he’d already given the order to mobilize military units in western Russia.

  Kalinin stepped away from the podium, and the TV shifted to talking heads in news studios, speculating on what Russia’s response might be.

  Christine thanked the concierge for the translation, her mind churning as she headed toward her room. Kalinin was rattling his saber, but whether he intended to use it, she couldn’t predict, nor could she predict NATO’s and the United States’ response. Ukraine wasn’t a member of NATO, and as such, the United States had no obligation to respond if Russia invaded. However, all of Western Europe, as well as the United States, would have to decide whether to come to Ukraine’s assistance.

  With the prospect of Russia going to war with Ukraine, her thoughts shifted to her last trip to China, when she’d been detained in the Great Hall of the People at the start of China’s war with the United States. After the unpleasant experience, the last thing she wanted was to get stuck in Russia during a conflict that might draw in the United States.

  Christine decided she would end the second round of nuclear weapons negotiations, coming up with an excuse to cut her trip short, then continue discussions once things settled down. She pulled her phone from her purse and dialed the U.S. embassy in Moscow, informing them of her change in plans. She’d be departing Russia as soon as transport was arranged.

  32

  KAMENNYI LOG, BELARUS

  Major General Vitaly Vasiliev, head of the 448th Missile Brigade, peered through the passenger-side window of his green GAZ Tigr all-terrain infantry vehicle at the passing Belarusian countryside. Behind him, stretched out on highway E28, was a convoy of Iskander missile batteries headed toward Russia’s Kaliningrad Oblast on the Baltic Sea. As Vasiliev’s missile brigade headed toward Lithuania, through which th
ey would transit to reach Kaliningrad, he reviewed the capabilities of his unit, wondering if it would soon be called into service.

  The hypersonic Iskander missile, traveling at Mach 6 speed, could target weapon batteries, command posts, and communication nodes, and was accurate enough to engage individual tanks using a variety of targeting methods: satellite, aircraft, or even by scanning a photograph with GPS coordinates of the target. If the target moved, Iskander could be retargeted during flight. The Iskander was a lethal missile indeed, Vasiliev thought, with the ability to target frontline units as well as reinforcements traveling along the region’s highways.

  Vasiliev was jarred from his thoughts as his vehicle ground to a halt. Stretching out before him on the road to the border checkpoint were the units of the 53rd Anti-Aircraft Rocket Brigade with its potent S-400 air defense system, and in front of them, on the road curving toward the west, were the rear elements of the 2nd Guards Motor Rifle Division, all stopped.

  It wasn’t long before Vasiliev’s adjutant arrived, his Tigr pulling up alongside Vasiliev on the shoulder of the road. He stepped from the vehicle, saluting as he approached.

  “I have bad news, General,” he said. “Lithuania is refusing to let Russian military units transit through their country.”

  Vasiliev asked, “How much of a delay will there be?”

  “No timeline has been provided. Only—No transit allowed.”

  “What about Poland?” Vasiliev asked. They could retrace their steps a few kilometers, then head southwest into Poland, then north into Kaliningrad Oblast.

  “Second Guards has already inquired. Poland is also refusing to allow transit.”

  Vasiliev nodded. Lithuania and Poland, acting in concert, were preventing the transfer of additional Russian forces into Kaliningrad. It was infuriating, although not completely unexpected. Vasiliev’s eyes shifted to the 2nd Guards Motor Rifle Division ahead of them. It could easily force passage for the three Russian units through the border crossing, reaching Kaliningrad before Lithuanian forces could respond. Whether the mechanized division would soon be given orders to that effect, Vasiliev didn’t know.

  He tried to contain his anger. Russia was again subject to the decisions of others when it came to simple transit between two regions of its country. During the days of the Soviet Red Army, Lithuania and Poland wouldn’t have dared prevent transit. After the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the weakening of Russia’s military, the two countries had become emboldened. With Russia’s military on the resurgence, it was finally time, Vasiliev thought, to adjust Lithuania’s and Poland’s thought processes. In the meantime, however, he would await new orders.

  33

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  In the basement of the West Wing, the president of the United States entered the Situation Room and took his seat at the head of the rectangular table, his eyes sweeping over the four individuals already seated: Hardison and Colonel DuBose to his right, and SecDef McVeigh and SecState Cabral to his left. On the far wall, the video screen was energized, displaying a map of Europe.

  The president turned to McVeigh. “What’s the status?”

  “Things are heating up,” McVeigh answered. After describing President Kalinin’s remarks, McVeigh followed up with an update on Russian military activities. He nodded toward the video display on the far wall, where Russia was divided into four colored regions.

  “All units in three out of four Russian military districts have been ordered to full readiness. The Western and Southern Districts, which border Ukraine, along with the Central District, are mobilizing. However, no units have begun moving, except for a motorized rifle division and two missile brigades headed toward Russia’s Kaliningrad Oblast. They’ve stopped at the Lithuanian border, with both Lithuania and Poland refusing to allow additional Russian military units into Kaliningrad Oblast. Russian air assets haven’t been redeployed, although it wouldn’t take long to move them.

  “On the naval front, the Black Sea Fleet, which has been dormant up to now, is getting under way, and Russia’s Northern Fleet has begun moving again, with its ships departing Syria and rejoining the units at sea. However, the surprising news is that the Northern Fleet is headed to the Suez Canal, and not toward the Black Sea and Ukraine as expected.”

  The president raised an eyebrow. “Into the Pacific?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. The Northern Fleet has requested priority passage through the canal when its ships arrive.”

  “So they’re rendezvousing with their Pacific Fleet?”

  “We believe so. Based on the transit speeds of both fleets, we expect them to join forces somewhere in the Indian Ocean.”

  “How do we plan to respond?”

  “Regarding Ukraine,” McVeigh answered, “the situation is muddy. Ukraine isn’t a NATO member, and if Russia invades, we’ll have a dilemma on our hands. NATO and the United States have no formal obligation to intervene on Ukraine’s behalf, but it will be difficult to do nothing and let Russia invade a sovereign nation. All NATO units are being mobilized, although obtaining authorization to respond will be contentious; you’re talking about a war between Russia and over twenty Western European nations. The conflict could expand across the continent.

  “Regarding our Navy’s response, Pacific Command plans to pull the Reagan strike group from China’s coast and route them south at maximum speed to join the Truman strike group. With the Northern Fleet submarines joining those of Russia’s Pacific, we’ll need to strengthen our anti-submarine warfare screen, with both strike groups working together as a task force. Additionally, the two carrier strike groups on the West Coast are preparing to deploy, and will join the Truman and Reagan strike groups as soon as possible.

  “The five fast attack submarines entering the Mediterranean have been given orders to follow the Northern Fleet into the Pacific, leaving Michigan as the sole submarine in the Med. Due to her arsenal of Tomahawk land attack missiles, she’ll be routed into the Black Sea to assist if Russia invades Ukraine. However, we have one mission for her first.”

  McVeigh pointed the remote control at the video screen, and the image of Europe was replaced with a map of Egypt.

  “Once we noted the Northern Fleet’s transit toward the Suez Canal, we reviewed all Russian activity along the route and we detected a Russian Spetsnaz unit deploying inside Egypt a few days ago, some of them near the Suez Canal.”

  McVeigh pressed the remote again, and a dozen locations appeared throughout Egypt where the Russian Special Forces unit had been detected.

  “We have no idea what they were up to; there’s nothing of significance at these locations, mostly just vast stretches of sand. However, before we send five fast attacks through the canal, we’re going to check things out. Michigan will send a SEAL team ashore to examine the nearest location, not far from the coast.”

  The president reflected for a moment, then ordered, “Keep the Reagan and Truman strike groups a safe distance from the Russian fleet. Things haven’t blown up yet, and I don’t want incidental contact to spark a conflict. Regarding Ukraine, mobilize all Army, Marine Corps, and Air Force assets.”

  “Yes, sir,” McVeigh replied.

  “Hopefully, this is just a false alarm,” the president said. “Russia rattling its sword to obtain concessions from Ukraine.”

  As the president examined the four individuals around the table again, he was met with uncertainty in their eyes.

  34

  MOSCOW

  VICTORY DAY

  As the sun climbed into a cloudless sky, President Yuri Kalinin sat in the front row of a grandstand in Red Square, looking on in silence as troops in crisp formations, interspersed with Russia’s most advanced military hardware, passed by. Flanking Kalinin were the leaders of thirty countries, joining Russia’s celebration of the Soviet Union’s victory over Germany in World War II. Behind Kalinin and occupying a prominent place in the grandstand were the surviving Red Army officers who had defeated the Wehrmacht.

  S
eventy-five years ago, the Soviet Union had bled for the West, and it was Russia, and not the United States, that had defeated Germany. In June 1944, as the Allies invaded Normandy, the German Army defended its Western Front with sixty-six divisions. At the same time, Germany deployed 150 divisions along the Eastern Front, opposing the Red Army’s advance. Had Germany been able to transfer another 150 divisions to Normandy, or even a third of those, the Wehrmacht would have annihilated the Allied invaders.

  Even with Germany opposing the Red Army with three-fourths of its military, it was the Soviet Union that pushed Germany back to its capital, taking Berlin and Hitler’s bunker, where the dictator committed suicide in the final hours of the conflict. The Soviet Union had bled for the West, its contribution to defeating Nazi Germany minimized by American historians.

  The West’s memory, in addition to being inaccurate, was short; they no longer held commemorations of their role during World War II. In the West, World War II was a distant memory, the sacrifices of its people nothing more now than a footnote in history books. In contrast, Russia held annual Victory Day parades and remembrance marches, keeping the memory of its sacrifices alive.

  Russia would not forget.

  * * *

  As the last light of day faded on the horizon, Yuri Kalinin stood on a third-floor balcony of the Kremlin Senate, his hands on the cold granite railing. As his eyes moved over the city, they came to rest on Red Square, where the crowds were dwindling after the day’s activities. It was there that he’d begun and ended the day’s celebrations, beginning with the Victory Day parade and ending with the March of the Immortal Regiment, where Kalinin led the annual citizens’ remembrance march through the city, leading a procession of over one million relatives and descendants of those who lost their lives in the Great Patriotic War.