Red War

by Flynn Vince

  Rapp looked around him. Azarov’s face was blank—either reveling in imagining Krupin dying a slow, painful death, or trying to figure out how to get to him before Mother Nature robbed him of the kill. Kennedy, on the other hand, looked shaken. Few people would have noticed, but Rapp had known her for too long.

  “Thank you, Anton,” she said finally. They watched in silence as McCormick packed up and headed out the door, closing it behind him.

  “Thoughts?” Rapp asked.

  Kennedy was the first to speak. “We recognized the potential for this a long time ago. The hope’s always been that he would die of a sudden heart attack or, frankly, be quietly murdered by a rival who was in a position to take over. A prolonged illness is a worst-case scenario for us.”

  “Agreed,” Azarov said. “Krupin’s always been wary, but watching the fall of dictators like Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi has made him paranoid. He pictures his bleeding body being dragged through the streets and then hung from a Moscow bridge. I can tell you that there is nothing—nothing—that he won’t do to prevent that from happening.”

  “Then there’s only one question we need to be asking,” Rapp said. “Where does he go when he’s not in Moscow? If he’s sick and his doctor’s disappeared, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s got a hidden treatment facility somewhere. And if secrecy is at the forefront of his mind, he’s going to be away from population centers with limited security coverage.”

  “There’s more to this than finding him and killing him,” Kennedy said.

  “Really? What do you think, Grisha?”

  “I’m very much in favor of finding him and killing him.”

  “Thank you both. That’s very helpful.”

  Rapp leaned forward in his chair. “Come on, Irene. I know you. I can see those wheels spinning around in your head. You’re thinking about making a deal to help him to keep Russia stable and move Sokolov out. You want to force the Euros to kiss his ass enough that he’s comfortable putting one of his rivals in his chair. It’s not going to work. What you’ve got out there is a wounded animal with a nuclear arsenal.”

  “All the more reason not to run in with guns blazing, don’t you think?”

  “Running in with guns blazing is pretty much my job description. And if I remember right, it’s made a lot of your problems go away over the years.”

  She leaned back and examined him for a moment. “This is still speculation. We don’t know for certain he’s sick and if he is we don’t know how serious it is. My main concern now is Ukraine. NATO’s in a staring contest with a man who may not have anything to lose. Up until now we’ve explained away the troops flowing into Crimea and Southern Ukraine as an intimidation tactic. But now I wonder if the opposite is true. Maybe he needs this fight.”

  “So what’s our move?” Rapp asked.

  She turned to Azarov. “Do you have contacts in Ukraine?”

  “None at all, Director Kennedy. If I arrived in that country, it was for only one reason.”

  “What about you, Mitch? You used to know the head of their Foreign Intelligence Service, didn’t you?”

  “We did an op together once. Probably almost fifteen years ago. I wouldn’t say we were close.”

  “I seem to remember that you saved his life.”

  Rapp shrugged. “I’m not sure he’d remember it that way. Scott has solid relationships in the region that are a hell of a lot more recent.”

  “In that case, I’d like you and Scott on the ground there. I need a clear picture of what’s happening with the Russian troop movements in the south. The international observers can’t get access anymore and I’m working mostly with reports approved by Ukraine’s political machine. If I’m going to make recommendations to President Alexander, I’m going to need a lot more than speculation about Krupin’s health and the word of Ukrainian politicians.”

  CHAPTER 25

  WEST OF DONETSK

  SOUTHERN UKRAINE

  “MAKE another pass to the east,” Sokolov said.

  The green carpet of southeastern Ukraine stretched out in every direction beneath the helicopter. After the annexation of Crimea, Russia had helped separatists in this region gain autonomous status. Control was in a constant state of diplomatic dispute, but it was all for the cameras. Everyone knew that Moscow held sway.

  He regretted having been forced out of the military for many reasons, but this was one of most poignant. There had been an opportunity to push farther west, which would have made it easier to link up with troops stationed in Crimea. An opportunity lost, but in retrospect an unimportant one. In the chess game between Russia and the West, Ukraine had been demoted from queen to pawn.

  His pilot came in low, allowing Sokolov to examine a series of half-constructed barracks and a heavy machinery maintenance facility that was somewhat further along.

  Satellite photos of the structures were undoubtedly being examined in great detail by Western intelligence agencies and he was committed to ensuring that all those details were perfect. In reality, the buildings were just hollow shells designed to divert NATO’s attention from the growing military presence on the borders of the Baltic states.

  This visit was designed to serve a similar purpose. He was arriving in civilian clothing and by way of a civilian helicopter, but the details of his arrival had been purposely leaked. Spies would be everywhere, documenting as much about his time there as possible, further stoking fears of an impending attack into the heart of Ukraine.

  The chopper touched down and Sokolov ran crouched toward a man waiting twenty meters away. General Ruslin Nikitin had been a well thought of junior officer when Sokolov was removed. By all reports, he was competent, efficient, and patriotic—a man whose loyalty to Krupin had thus far proved unshakable. He was also somewhat notorious for speaking his mind.

  “Welcome, General,” Nikitin said, offering a hand in place of a salute. Unaware of the true purpose of this inspection, he wouldn’t do anything that might reveal Sokolov’s identity. “I trust your journey was a pleasant one?”

  Sokolov shook the man’s hand and nodded before starting toward a pre-fab building to the north.

  It wasn’t until they passed through its doors that Nikitin offered a crisp salute. “It’s a pleasure to host you, sir, but I haven’t been provided an agenda. It would have been helpful to prepare for your needs.”

  “I wanted to come personally and get your opinion of your readiness.”

  The man looked concerned. “We’re escalating the propaganda campaign aimed at ethnic Russians, but informal polling suggests we’re not making much headway. They want autonomy from Ukraine and close ties to Russia but not necessarily Russian rule. And the hope that we can count on them during a push north is optimistic in the extreme. More likely, many would see it as overreach and turn against us.”

  “Then they’ll have to be dealt with,” Sokolov said.

  “Yes, sir, but that would be easier said than done and could turn the local Russian population against us.”

  “So you’re saying we’ll have to rely entirely on Russian troops.”

  The man’s gaze shifted downward.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes, sir. But one you’re already fully aware of.”

  He motioned in the direction of the buildings that were being erected. “I’ve been given the resources to enclose those structures but haven’t been told when the beds, electrical, and other equipment will be delivered.”

  “It’s not our job to provide for the comfort of soldiers, Ruslin.”

  He didn’t immediately answer, instead working up his infamous resolve. “Soldiers? I’m not sure the men I’m being sent qualify. I’m trying to drill them but if I push too hard, I’m concerned they’ll literally start dropping dead.”

  “Wars are lost with poor leadership, not with poor soldiers,” Sokolov countered. “Never in human history has a general gone to war with an army he thought was adequate.”

  “I under
stand your point, sir, but this is going to turn into a bloody battle fought in difficult terrain by men incapable of running up a hill.”

  It was hard to be too angry with the man. Sokolov would have lodged the same complaint if he’d been in Nikitin’s position.

  “Your concerns are noted. Now, I’d like a tour of your new facilities.”

  “There’s nothing to see, sir. With all due respect, our limited time together could be better spent here.”

  “How so?” Sokolov asked, though he knew full well.

  “I’d like to discuss the likelihood that an attack order will be given.”

  “That depends entirely on whether NATO decides to bring the subject of Ukraine’s membership to a vote.”

  “And if they do?”

  “We’ll push back.”

  “Then give me the tools to fight, General! You’ve already backed me into a corner and now your presence here exacerbates the problem. There are eyes everywhere. Your visit will be reported on and the West will bolster the Ukrainian troops.” He paused for a moment. “While the president spends his day hunting and reassigning my resources to pointless exercises.”

  “I’m aware of your reputation as a straight talker, Ruslin. But I’d caution you to think before you speak.”

  “I’m going to be the one here fighting and in all likelihood dying if I’m ordered to push north with the men and matériel I’ve been provided.”

  “Has it never occurred to you that a move in Ukraine could precipitate a NATO counterattack on us from the Baltics? That we need reinforcements there as a deterrent to an invasion of Russian soil?”

  “They wouldn’t dare,” Nikitin said.

  “I wonder how many empires have fallen with those words as their banner? Now are you capable of carrying out my orders or not?”

  The man spoke only after taking the time to carefully consider the challenges facing him. “I can turn these men into functional fighters and I can find a way to work with the equipment I’ve been provided. But I need time.”

  “We all need time, Ruslin. In matters of war, though, it’s a luxury.”

  “Then I’d request an opportunity to speak directly with the president. To explain my situation and to impress on him the importance of delaying any action as long as possible.”

  Sokolov glanced at his watch instead of responding to the man’s request. If everything was on schedule, Krupin arrived at his treatment facility five hours ago and should have already begun his latest round of therapy. It was unlikely that he would be disposed to discuss with Nikitin an invasion that would never happen.

  More concerning than his disposition, though, was his ability.

  A number of prisoners similar to Krupin in age and condition were simultaneously undergoing the same treatments. In addition, they were being subjected to various stimulant cocktails designed to allow Krupin to appear publicly without displaying weakness or confusion. One of the test subjects had been pushed too far and died from heart failure but Dr. Fedkin seemed to be closing in on a mixture that would allow the president to approximate the man he’d once been for the better part of an hour.

  “I’ll pass along your request for an audience, General. But, as you can imagine, the president is quite busy.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Enough!” Sokolov said, allowing the volume of his voice to rise. He’d already allowed this conversation to go on too long. While it was desirable to have Nikitin motivated, the purpose of the trip was for the supreme commander of Russia’s military to be seen in Ukraine. “I have to be back in the air in twenty minutes, General. And I intend to inspect the progress of your construction projects before I leave.”

  CHAPTER 26

  KIEV

  UKRAINE

  “MITCH!”

  The Ukrainian intelligence chief had the same molasses-thick accent and bull-in-a-china-shop demeanor that he’d had more than a decade ago. He strode across his office and enveloped Rapp in a bear hug that nearly lifted him from the ground.

  “It fills my heart to see you again,” he said, pulling back. “The years have been hard on you.”

  “Thanks, Danya. I appreciate your honesty.”

  “You know that, to this very day, my wife lights a candle in your honor every Christmas. For saving my life.”

  “I don’t remember you being all that grateful at the time.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “I was young and proud. We all were.”

  “I don’t think you know Scott,” Rapp said, pointing to Coleman who was hanging back by the door. “Scott, Danya Bondar.”

  “Only by reputation,” he said, shaking the former SEAL’s hand vigorously. “My counterparts in the Balkans speak highly of you.”

  The CIA had paid Coleman’s company millions to help Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia create asymmetric strategies to counter a Russian invasion. While all three of the Balkan states were members of NATO, it was quietly acknowledged that the West couldn’t move quickly enough to repel an attack. They would have to fend for themselves until a response could be organized.

  “Now what is it I can do for you?” Bondar said indicating two chairs in front of his desk.

  “Irene wants to know what’s going on with the Russians.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  “I mean in southern Ukraine specifically.”

  “Our government has been providing regular reports.”

  “We don’t trust them.”

  “You still don’t mince words, do you Mitch?”

  “Irene thinks your president may be spinning the intel for political reasons.”

  “And do you agree with her?”

  “No. I think he’s a useless piece of shit who’s outright fabricating it.”

  Bondar froze for a moment and then walked across the office to make sure the door was fully closed. “The truth is somewhere between your two analyses. Our president is very concerned with the continuation of his own power and doesn’t know from where that power will flow in the coming years. The West? Perhaps, but Europe is showing cracks and America is turning inward. Standing against Maxim Krupin is becoming an increasingly lonely position.”

  “Do we really have to sit here and bullshit each other, Danya? Your president has designs on being a dictator and Krupin will be a hell of a lot more helpful in getting him there than the United States or Germany. If Russian tanks start rolling north, the only thing he’s going to do is call the Kremlin and sell you down the river.”

  Bondar lowered himself into his chair. “I find myself in general agreement with you, Mitch. But, at least for now, I live in a democracy. The fact that the people of Ukraine were unwise enough to elect him doesn’t change my duty.”

  “No, but it also doesn’t prevent you from telling me off the record what’s happening down south.”

  The man didn’t immediately respond, calculating how far he wanted to go.

  “Our intelligence gathering capabilities in the Russian-dominated areas of Ukraine are surprisingly poor.”

  “I’d think your government would want you to have a heavy presence there,” Coleman said.

  “The president is concerned that if any of our people were caught, they could be held up as spies in Russia’s propaganda machine.”

  “And he doesn’t want Krupin to see him down there stirring up trouble,” Rapp added.

  “I imagine that this was part of his calculation.”

  “So to summarize, you’re telling me you don’t know shit.”

  “I think that’s an overstatement. We are tracking troop movement, propaganda campaigns, known—”

  “We’ve got all that at Langley, Danya.”

  “I don’t know what you want from me, Mitch.”

  “If you can’t tell me anything, then give me a few men so Scott and I can go look for ourselves. They don’t even have to be shooters. Just familiar with the territory.”

  “I don’t think that would be in my best interest, Mitch.”

  “Yea
h, but it might be in the best interest of your fucking country.”

  Bondar slapped his hands down on his blotter and leaned forward. “The things you’ve done have made you a hard man, Mitch.”

  “And that desk has made you a soft one. But I knew you before you had a chauffeur and got invited to all the right parties. Now what are you going to do, Danya?”

  “Screw you, Mitch.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to get off your fat ass and give me something?”

  “No. It means I’m going to have you thrown out of my office and physically dragged across the Polish border.”

  “Before you do, I forgot to mention that Andrei Sokolov was seen yesterday outside of Donetsk. How do you think that’s going to work out for you?”

  Bondar’s face went blank long enough that Rapp started to wonder if he’d had a minor stroke. Finally, he spoke. “Is this the truth or one of Irene’s games?”

  “We have some nice color eight-by-tens.” Rapp glanced over at Coleman. “He looked great, didn’t he?”

  “I think he’s been working out,” the former SEAL agreed.

  “Swear you’re not playing me, Mitch.”

  “Not my department. You have my word.”

  Bondar let out a long breath and glanced past Rapp, checking the door again. “I have an informal network in the Russian dominated areas. Locals who’ve lived there for generations. A few are relatives of mine. They’re not operatives but they know the terrain and have been informally tracking Russian movements and construction projects. I could put you in touch with them. But after that it would be up to you.”

  CHAPTER 27

  CIA HEADQUARTERS

  LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

  USA

  IRENE Kennedy leaned over her assistant’s shoulder, examining his computer screen.

  “There’s just no way you’re going to make your lunch with Senator Barnes,” he said, pointing to the calendar. “There’s not even enough time to chopper you in.”