The Trust Of The People

by Christopher Read

  Chapter 7 – Thursday, October 27th

  Moscow – 10:16 Local Time; 07:16 UTC

  Nikolai drove south following the Boulevard Ring, the traffic still crawling along despite it being well after the normal early-morning commute. His job as an FSB courier was often a frustration, sometimes just plain boring, but thanks to Grebeshkov’s influence it paid well enough. Whether that would continue beyond the next month seemed unlikely, the General’s replacement already making changes.

  Not that President Golubeva’s man would have an easy task, the Lubyanka a haven for the disaffected and the insubordinate, their anger directed mainly at their colleagues in the SVR and on occasion those who wielded power in the Kremlin. Such animosity extended throughout the FSB, although those not directly associated with the Lubyanka tended to be rather more circumspect in their opposition, with relatively few senior officers willing to voice their support in an outward show of solidarity.

  The persistent rumours of friction between Golubeva and Morozov had in turn become an incentive for the Lubyanka to work more closely with the GRU, the odd secret shared, a rumour confirmed. The GRU’s Headquarters at Khodynka seemed keen to reciprocate and the subsequent exchange of information was carried out on a totally informal basis. The preferred option was via couriers like Nikolai, both sides concerned as to how secure the speedier electronic methods might actually be.

  Nikolai’s special relationship with Grebeshkov had always given him a certain status within the FSB; more so since the General’s murder. As a result, his regular sources within the Lubyanka had gone out of their way to keep him in the loop, and there was almost a sense that Nikolai needed protecting, his route through security nowadays greeted with a smile and a wave, the guards seemingly more concerned with who else might be watching. Nikolai had certainly pushed his status to the limit, disappearing for days at a time without explanation: in response, his section leader had merely asked if Nikolai was okay and then left it at that, no criticism, no complaint.

  With Grebeshkov’s murder and Markova’s subsequent unease – even going so far as to warn Nikolai to take extra care – he had wanted first to protect his own family. In any case, her instructions with regard to the information on Hanson had seemed more of a personal request than a direct order, and Nikolai had felt able to adapt them accordingly. It was thus twenty-four hours before he had finally taken a flight out of Moscow, paranoia ensuring he chose a roundabout route to London; as result he hadn’t actually reached Marshwick until early on the Thursday.

  With his mission duly completed, Nikolai had initially been happy to leave Anderson to his own devices. That had all changed once he had returned to Moscow, only then learning of Markova’s disappearance. Five years they had worked together, worlds apart in rank but separated in age by just two years, with Markova the elder. For some unclear reason Nikolai had always been protective of her and now he worried that he had let her down, his delay in contacting Anderson not what Markova would have wanted.

  Despite the risks, he had decided to help Anderson where he could, Nikolai pulling in a reluctant favour from the GRU. Old enmities were slowly being put aside as President Golubeva’s opponents began to work together, all of them wary of putting too much trust in the others and fearful lest the West take advantage.

  Markova hadn’t been the only FSB agent to disappear, two others from her section missing, another found drowned. In the ten days since Grebeshkov’s murder, five senior staff from the Lubyanka – all considered loyal to the General – had been arrested on trumped-up charges; another eight had been transferred away from Moscow. Yet each incident only served to reinforce the Lubyanka’s intransigence and resentment. Such purges had always been an accepted risk to those who worked for Russia’s Security Services: after the failed coup of ’91, Boris Yeltsin had split the KGB into separate foreign and domestic agencies, eventually to become the SVR and FSB – now the two agencies were more like jealous brothers, each suspecting that the other was the favoured son.

  The FSB investigation into Sukhov had now been abandoned; even the search for the Lubyanka’s missing agents had been taken out of the FSB’s hands – officially that was. Unofficially, every possible lead was being pursued, no-one willing to give up just yet. The inquiry into General Grebeshkov’s murder had similarly been reassigned to the Presidential Security Service, it already clear that Alekseyev had amassed significant gambling debts. There was also some evidence to suggest his daughter’s family had been threatened, those responsible as yet unknown.

  With the help of the GRU, the FSB was also keeping tabs on Anderson, just in case he might somehow get lucky. The FSB could do with some luck for itself: the President’s purge of the agency might be encouraging dissent, but one edgy day at a time, the Lubyanka was slowly being beaten into submission.

  Marshwick, England – 09:47 Local Time; 08:47 UTC

  Anderson was feeling a little guilty, the good news of having an article published in The Washington Post somewhat tarnished by his genuine concern as to London’s possible fate. He still couldn’t decide whether to tell SO15 about Hamburg, hoping that his knowledge wasn’t actually that crucial.

  He sat at the kitchen table, laptop in front to him, determined to make the most of his success by swapping topic from August 14 to the more complex Russia-Poland-U.S. relations. The Post had even been in touch, Anderson invited to Washington to discuss a series of related articles, with the possibility of there being something more permanent – bearing in mind Anderson had been back in Marshwick for less than a week, Charlotte’s hug of congratulations had been particularly gracious.

  For the moment, the delicate nature of Poland’s relationship with Russia was his first priority, neither country willing to trust the other, with both economies suffering as a result. Anderson was also half-listening to Sky News, his brain programmed to react to the three keywords of London, Attack, and Marcelo, while cleverly filtering out everything else.

  By late morning there was nothing that relevant: FTSE down fifty points, fears of a new recession, various banks in trouble for something, NHS in crisis – it was all fairly normal. The terrorist threat level remained unchanged, and the main news story couldn’t work out whether it should focus on the NHS or move on to rumours of a cabinet reshuffle. In Moscow, there was yet another demonstration outside of the Kremlin walls, the numbers surging despite the chaos of the previous day, with well over a hundred thousand standing in silent protest.

  It was only when the New York Stock Exchange opened that the news edged away from the ordinary. The Dow began to fall steadily, losing over three hundred points in the first hour. Analysts muttered about nervousness fuelling rumours or vice-versa, and then it became more to do with realignments and profit taking. Some experts even blamed it on the day’s date, it being the 25th anniversary of a memorable mini-crash. That had been caused by an economic crisis in Asia, and the New York Stock Exchange had eventually been forced to close early, the Dow Jones Industrial Average having plummeted by over 7%.

  It wasn’t quite what Anderson had in mind: August 14 had shut down the Moscow Exchange twice the previous year due to cyber-attacks, but this was more an attack of jitters. Within a couple of hours, the Dow slowly started to settle, with some stocks clawing their way back. The FTSE belatedly fell further then rallied, eventually closing 110 points down.

  With nothing else happening in London, Anderson resorted to a news search on Marcelo. It took less than minute before two of his brain’s keywords slotted neatly into place beside each other.

  It was indeed an attack, and it was by someone named Marcelo – but not against London. By Anderson’s reckoning Marcelo was presently located about six and a half thousand miles away from the UK, her ‘attack’ purely a verbal one.

  A middle-aged Senator from the Philippines wasn’t quite Anderson’s ideal for a terrorist, but he still he ended up listening to a good portion of Louisa Marcelo’s speech, or at least those parts that were in English. Even to s
omeone as cynical as Anderson, it was an impressive and skilful play on people’s emotions, Marcelo coming across as ebullient and self-deprecating, someone able to hold an audience in the palm of her hand while directing her eloquence against some unfortunate victim. The latter seemed to include a good few nations and their leaders, her cutting remarks aimed mainly at the Chinese Government and her own President.

  The senator had spoken out at a rally in Manila, decrying the expansionist policies of China in the South China Sea and the feeble response of its neighbours. Almost in tears, she had called upon the nations of South-East Asia to put aside their differences and stand united against China’s illegal occupation of the Spratly Islands, Marcelo pleading for everyone who could to join her in a peace armada – a signal that the people of the Philippines were determined to protect what was rightfully theirs.

  Marcelo’s words had been greeted with boisterous acclaim, the local media generally positive as to her aims despite her criticism of the President. The islands in question seemed to be barely worthy of the name, the largest just over a hundred acres in size; most were uninhabited reefs, China laying claim to a massive area of the South China Sea, including the Paracel Islands further north. With the two island groups sandwiched between the coastlines of half-a-dozen countries, the real prize appeared to be the natural resources thought to exist offshore, an economic gamble where the dice were already heavily loaded in China’s favour.

  According to the news report, several other Philippine Senators had already publicly backed Marcelo’s campaign and the principle of the armada, social media sites acting as her mouthpiece to the wider world. Similar anti-Chinese rallies were already being planned for Malaysia and Vietnam.

  Anderson didn’t know whether to feel relieved or foolish, half expecting a phone call from SO15 to give him a bollocking for wasting police time. Everyone made mistakes, and if he’d got carried away with thoughts of terrorist attacks on London, then he wasn’t the only one.

  And, whatever else, someone still needed to get to grips with McDowell – having him stirring things up in South-East Asia just couldn’t be good news...