The Russian Endgame

by Allan Topol

  Kuznov pounded on the table. Coffee cups bounced. “That’s an absurd leap. Orlov is a fool and an incompetent. His sister, Zhou’s mistress, got him involved in all of this. I appreciate your bringing this information to me. Orlov is a Russian citizen. He will be properly punished here.”

  Well, there it was, precisely what Craig had feared. He glanced at Orlov. The man was white with terror. Craig had to bring Kuznov around. “It won’t work,” he told the Russian president.

  “What do you mean, ‘it won’t work’?”

  “Unless you cooperate with me, President Treadwell will circulate the evidence I presented to key leaders in the United States. It will leak out to the public. No one will believe you were not personally involved. The United States will initiate strong trade reprisals against Russia. We will persuade the Western Europeans to do the same. We will cripple your economy, and one other thing…”

  Craig paused to take a breath. He’d have to be careful how he expressed this—to make it a threat, but subtly. “The difficulty in killing one nation’s leader,” he said slowly, while staring at Kuznov, “is that the leader of the nation which does the killing places himself at risk for retribution, if you know what I mean.”

  Kuznov looked pale. He understood.

  “But if you cooperate with me,” Craig said, “President Treadwell is prepared to ignore all the evidence of Russia’s involvement. None of it will see the light of day.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Choose between the United States and China.”

  Craig took out his cell and continued speaking to Kuznov. “As you consider whether you wish to entrust your country’s economic viability and your own safety to President Treadwell and the United States, or to President Zhou of China, let me show you two things.”

  Craig then handed the phone to Kuznov, first to view the video of Androshka’s murder. Then the text of Zhou’s encrypted conversation with his brother when Zhou was in Bali.

  While watching and listening, Kuznov pressed his lips tightly together. Veins were protruding on his neck and forehead. His head was shaking.

  “Personally, I wouldn’t want to place my balls in Zhou’s hands,” Craig said.

  The phone slipped from Kuznov’s hand onto the table. Craig retrieved it and said, “The choice is yours.”

  “Suppose I pick the United States. Just suppose… I’m not saying that I will. What would I have to do?”

  I’m making progress, Craig thought.

  “It’s very simple. You call Zhou and tell him Orlov just returned from Prague. You have CDs for PGS, which several of your aerospace experts have confirmed are accurate. You made a copy of the CDs for Zhou. You’re prepared to give it to him. But he must come to Moscow next Tuesday, four days from now, to get it. You’d like not only to

  give the CDs with PGS to him, but to discuss future joint operations with him.”

  “What if Zhou won’t come?”

  “You have to persuade him.”

  “That won’t be easy.”

  “Play tough with him. What we Americans call hardball. Make him believe that you have PGS and the only way he’ll get it is by coming to Moscow. Tell him to fly into a Russian airbase, outside of Moscow. Tell him that you’ll meet him there. It will be a secret meeting. You’ll give him the CDs for PGS and the two of you will talk.”

  “What happens if he comes? What do I do then?”

  “Nothing at all. You won’t be at the airbase. You will have turned over the portion of the base where Zhou’s plane lands to my control for several hours, keeping all Russians out of the area except Orlov, who will supposedly be taking Zhou to meet you. I will be there with people I bring. Do you understand or should I spell it out any further?”

  “You’ve said enough.”

  “Well, how do you choose: the United States or China?”

  Kuznov stood up and paced for a couple of minutes, his hand up to his face. Craig and Orlov remained still.

  Finally, Kuznov returned to the table. “I will cooperate with you,” he said with hesitation in his voice.

  Craig was relieved, but he didn’t show it. “Good. Then I think you should call Zhou. My suggestion is that you put it on the speaker phone. He may ask for details that Orlov will have to supply. So tell him you only have Orlov with you. I’ll be quiet.”

  Kuznov turned to Orlov. “And you… you fool… you better not warn Zhou. Or I’ll kill you myself.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. He murdered my sister.”

  Kuznov placed the call, explaining that he had Orlov with him and following the script Craig had outlined. When Kuznov was finished, Zhou said, “Are you certain that you have the CDs for PGS?”

  Craig thought Zhou sounded surprised. “Absolutely,” Kuznov replied.

  “And you’re sure they’re authentic?”

  “They were verified by several of our top aeronautical engineers.”

  Kuznov was convincing, Craig thought.

  “You didn’t think I could do it,” Orlov said.

  Zhou replied, “Frankly, no. After you began your Czech operation, I learned that Jill Morgan was a dangle working for Craig Page. I had no time to alert you.”

  “No problem,” Orlov said with a swagger in his voice. “I assumed that might be the case and I took steps to overcome it.”

  “What steps?”

  “First, I noticed that Page or one of his people was following Jill, so I separated her from her followers before taking her to the meet. Then I had an engineer at the rendezvous who examined the CDs and concluded they were bogus. So I threatened to kill Jill’s daughter. That made her cough up from memory the differences between PGS and the phony CDs. Our engineer revised the bogus CDs and made them accurately depict PGS.”

  Orlov had said it all calmly. He sounded credible.

  “I underestimated you, Orlov,” Zhou said.

  Smiling, Orlov looked at Kuznov. “People often do that.”

  Craig hoped Orlov didn’t overplay his hand. Craig closed his mouth tight and raised a finger to his lips, hoping Orlov would shut up. The Russian kept still.

  Kuznov picked it up. “Then I’ll plan to see you next Tuesday in Moscow.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Let me know when your plane is in the air and your ETA.”

  “I will do that,” Zhou said.

  Once Kuznov hung up the phone, he said to Craig, “Orlov will help you on logistics for next Tuesday. And I assure you that Orlov will do a good job, won’t you?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Kuznov stood, signaling that the meeting was over. “This had better work,” he said to Craig.

  “Don’t worry. It will.”

  As soon as he left Kuznov’s office, Craig called Carlos in Madrid. He told the Spanish Defense Minister, “I may have failed in Bali to bring Zhou to you for trial, but I intend to succeed in Moscow. Now here’s what I want you to do.”

  Beijing and Paris

  Zhou was pleased when he put down the phone. Orlov had come through. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on those CDs and begin China’s implementation of the PGS technology.

  As far as going to Moscow to retrieve the CDs, Zhou wasn’t surprised Kuznov had insisted on it. The Russian president had wanted this meeting from the first time that Orlov had come to Beijing. Besides, Zhou couldn’t blame Kuznov for directing Orlov to bring the CDs to Moscow rather than Beijing. Kuznov had no doubt deduced that if Zhou got his hands on them first, he never would have shared them with Russia.

  What troubled Zhou was leaving China right now. He had heard from allies on the Central Committee that there were increased rumblings about Zhou’s behavior after the murder of his Intelligence Chief, Mei Ling’s son, and a member of the Central Committee. Rumors were circulating that Zhou had done something to Androshka because she hadn’t been seen in days. Some were beginning to suggest that perhaps they had made a mistake selecting Zhou rather than Mei Ling to become president.


  Zhou was a student of history. He knew that coups often occur when the leader leaves the country. The good news was that Mei Ling was in Paris. But if her supporters informed her that Zhou had left China, she could rush home to initiate a coup.

  Zhou brooded for several minutes about this quandary. Finally, he had a solution: keep his trip to Moscow absolutely secret. When he had negotiated the agreement to cut off the flow of imported oil to the United States with the Iranians, he had taken two trips to Paris and kept them both secret. Captain Cheng had made all the arrangements including the plane. And Zhou didn’t take anyone other than Cheng and the crew with him.

  Unfortunately, he no longer had Captain Cheng to make his arrangements. Cheng’s death in the unsuccessful effort to kill Mei Ling in Paris was a tremendous blow to Zhou. Cheng’s successor, Captain Tong, wasn’t nearly as savvy and Zhou had to spend much more time explaining what to do.

  Even with all of that, Zhou was confident that he could arrange the Moscow trip so that only Zhou, Captain Tong, and the airplane crew knew about it.

  Elizabeth waited for Craig to call and tell her that Kuznov had scheduled a rendezvous with Zhou next Tuesday before she called Mei Ling to meet with her.

  It took Jacques’s personal intervention for Elizabeth to gain

  access to Mei Ling in the safe house. Six armed guards manned the perimeter.

  She looks haggard and pale, Elizabeth thought with sympathy. The woman’s undergoing an incredible ordeal, and she can’t properly grieve for her son.

  Mei Ling smiled when she saw Elizabeth, but it seemed forced.

  “We should go out into the garden to talk,” Mei Ling said. “The skies don’t have ears.”

  Did she suspect the French of spying on her? Was she becoming paranoid?

  They carried glasses of ice tea out to the grassy yard in the back of the house and settled into chairs around a wrought iron table with an umbrella to shield them from the midday sun.

  “Now that we are together,” Elizabeth said, “I want to express to you in person how sorry I am for the loss of your son.”

  Mei Ling sighed. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Zhou has now killed my husband and my son. He would have killed me as well if it weren’t for you and Craig and your friend Jacques.”

  “I believe that Zhou’s killing days may soon be over.”

  “What do you mean? What have you done,” Her voice had some of her old liveliness.

  “Do you have your cellphone? I want to send you a text.”

  Mei Ling pulled it from her skirt pocket. “I’m ready.”

  As Elizabeth forwarded the text of Zhou’s call from Bali with his brother, she said, “It’s good you’re sitting down.”

  When she was finished reading the transcript of the call, Mei Ling nodded her head vigorously. “This confirms what I fully believed.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t expecting this response. “Then you’re not surprised?”

  “No. I was standing in the observation booth above the operating theater during President Li’s surgery. I was there with our country’s Health Minister, Yin Shao, who is a physician. We were both convinced that Zhou had used the surgery to murder Li, but we didn’t have proof. This gives us that proof. It’s invaluable. Can I share this with others…

  important supporters?”

  “Or course.”

  Mei Ling turned back to the phone and reread the text message while Elizabeth sipped ice tea.

  When Mei Ling was finished, she looked up at Elizabeth. “You told me that Zhou’s killing days may soon be over. What will happen to him?”

  “I will tell you, but this cannot be mentioned to anyone. Even your closest supporters.”

  “I understand. You don’t have to worry. You and I have never betrayed a confidence… or we would both be dead.”

  Elizabeth had no hesitation in telling Mei Ling, “Craig has arranged for Zhou to fly to Moscow for a meeting next Tuesday with Russian President Kuznov. If Craig succeeds in Moscow, Zhou will never return to China.”

  Mei Ling wrinkled up her forehead. “Do you recommend that once Zhou is gone, I return to China and try to take over the Presidency?”

  “That’s your decision alone to make. The risk is huge. I cannot guarantee that Craig will succeed. If Zhou escapes from Craig’s trap and returns to Beijing, your fate would be horrible.”

  “I understand that. The tape of the phone call between Zhou and his brother will be helpful to me if I decide to try and seize the Presidency.”

  To Elizabeth, it seemed as if Mei Ling was thinking out loud. Elizabeth kept silent. Mei Ling had to decide for herself. It was Mei Ling’s life on the line.

  After a pause that seemed interminable to Elizabeth, Mei Ling said, “I’ll do it. Tell me when I should leave for Beijing.”

  “Zhou has promised to tell Kuznov when he is airborne. Craig will let me know. At that time, you should take the next flight from Paris to Beijing.”

  “Good. I will do that.”

  “Until then, I would like to stay here with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “I would welcome it.”

  Tuesday morning at five, Elizabeth’s cellphone rang. She hadn’t been sleeping. She had been waiting for Craig to call.”

  “Zhou’s in the air,” Craig said in a tense voice. “I’ve reserved a seat for Mei Ling on the six a.m. Air France nonstop from Charles De Gaulle to Beijing.”

  “She can’t make that.”

  “Jacques has a car waiting outside the safe house. He’s arranged to hold the plane until Mei Ling’s on board.”

  In minutes, Mei Ling dressed and grabbed her suitcase.

  Thirty minutes later, at the curb in front of the terminal, Mei Ling hugged Elizabeth. “I’ll never forget what you and Craig have done for me and for China.”

  “I just hope you’ll be able to take over the presidency.”

  Moscow

  At ten in the morning, three hours before Zhou’s arrival at the Russian airbase under a blazing sun during a Moscow heat wave, Craig rode out with Orlov to check on preparations.

  Kuznov must have given strict orders to the base commander, Craig decided, because Orlov had freedom to do what he wanted. With Orlov behind the wheel, they drove in an air-conditioned sedan across the landing field to a remote location. “Here’s where Zhou’s plane will be landing,” Orlov said.

  Orlov coughed, cleared his throat and continued, “I will meet with Zhou when he comes down the stairs of his plane, no doubt accompanied by the one aide he is bringing. I will then drive them to that hangar.” Orlov pointed to a freshly painted white metal structure about a hundred yards away. “I’ll explain to Zhou that’s where Kuznov is, in an air-conditioned office, the site of the meeting. Completely private. No press. Very limited staff. Does that sound good to you?”

  “Yes,” Craig said tersely. “Let’s look at the hangar.”

  Orlov drove across the field and into the hangar. Craig saw an unmarked, midsize airbus passenger jet. Once the car stopped, Craig and Orlov got out. Carlos Sanchez immediately came over and threw his arms around Craig. “I’m glad to see you again.”

  Craig introduced the Spanish Defense Minister to Orlov. “He’s in charge of all our arrangements,” Craig told Carlos.

  “Pleased to have your help,” Carlos said.

  Craig pointed to the plane, “Who’d you bring with you?” he asked Carlos.

  “A dozen armed special ops troops.”

  “That should be more than enough. Zhou only has the airplane crew and one aide.”

  “After Bali, I’ll never underestimate Zhou.”

  Carlos’s words gave Craig pause. With Zhou, nothing ever went according to plan. There were always surprises.

  “Where do you plan on positioning your troops?” Orlov asked.

  Carlos pointed to a wooden partition inside the hangar. “There’s an office behind that wall. Eight of my troops will be waiting there, out of sight, ready to move when I signal them. Four othe
rs will be on the plane.”

  “I like it,” Craig said. “I’ll be remaining here with you while Orlov brings Zhou.”

  “How’s Elizabeth?” Carlos asked.

  “Doing well.”

  “Tell her I asked about her, and I hope she covers Zhou’s trial in Madrid for her newspaper.”

  Craig noticed Orlov rolling one hand at his side into a fist. “We’re doing this peacefully,” Craig said while looking at Orlov. “We’re here to make an arrest pursuant to a Spanish court order. We don’t want any violence.”

  “I understand,” the Russian replied.

  Craig didn’t know what was running through Orlov’s mind. He realized that the Russian was a bit of a wildcard, but Craig didn’t want to change the plan. Didn’t know how he could alter it without alerting the savvy Zhou.

  Carlos invited Craig and Orlov onto the plane for lunch. The tension was heavy enough to cut with a knife. After paella, barely eaten, Craig and Carlos chatted about the economic situation in Spain to pass the time while Orlov, appearing bored, sat in a comfortable chair and dozed.

  An hour later, Craig heard Orlov’s cell ringing. He answered. Craig heard, “Yes… Yes… Yes…”

  Orlov stood up and said to Craig and Carlos, “The tower reported that Zhou’s thirty minutes out.”

  “We’re good to go,” Craig said.

  “I’m leaving you,” Orlov told them. “I have to get in my car to meet our guest.”

  Despite everything that happened so far, Craig didn’t fully trust Orlov. He wasn’t sure why. Just a feeling in his gut.

  Craig spotted an opening in the side panel of the hangar. He asked Carlos for binoculars and positioned himself at the opening to watch Orlov and Zhou.

  The Chinese Air Force jet landed. Perfectly according to plan, Craig watched Zhou bound down the stairs in a dark suit, white shirt, and tie, followed by a young Chinese man in an army uniform. The new Captain Cheng.

  Orlov greeted Zhou with a handshake. Then Zhou and his aide climbed into the back of Orlov’s car. Craig watched them approaching the hangar.