The Devil's Playground

by Michael Reagan

looked younger than he guessed he was. The Admiral licked his lips. Knowing the rules, he never carried his ID and always wore civilian clothes when indulging his tastes but because he was technically always on call he had no choice but to carry with him his encrypted BlackBerry. After three drinks together during which Jerry had stroked his arms seductively feeling the need to satisfy his cravings, the Admiral paid the boy's pimp the US$500 he had demanded for a few hours of the boy's time. Together they quietly left the bar and went to a motel room just off Church Street, San Francisco's famous area for gay bars. He had rented and paid for the room in cash for the night, but would only use it for a few hours...

  Finally to Jerry's relief, having been ravished for over an hour, the old man had collapsed exhausted on his sweaty back while still inside him. Now snoring and passed out on a mixture of the drugs and booze, the agent known as Jerry (but Long Wei in China) removed the man forcibly off him. He quickly got off the bed and proceeded to rummage through the Admiral's trouser pockets lying crumpled up on the floor. Then having found his BlackBerry he quickly pulled it out and then promptly placed the Malware infected USB he had into the device.

  In a matter of seconds, the USB worked it magic, downloading it contents while at the same time placing a Trojan on it so to enable his Chinese masters to listen and then gain access to the Navy's servers. The software, the latest developed within Chinese cyber warfare unit, was complicated in its design but in layman's terms it allowed his masters once a day to bypass the security to interact with a harvester system by means of a pulse. The result being the MPS would be able read all of the Admiral's briefings, including locations of Navy assets located in and around the exclusion zone of the islands every time the device was connected with its host for the Admiral's emails.

  Long Wei of course knew nothing of that, only that he had completed his mission. One that the MPS had planned for since they discovered the Admiral was a homosexual and liked young Asian boys.

  Satisfied, he removed the USB then carefully placed the BlackBerry back into the pocket of the Admiral's blue Dockers trousers. He took out his wallet, extracted an extra three hundred dollars to make it look like the Admiral had been turned over. He got dressed and then left the mothballed smelling room and disappeared into the night, thinking about the handbag he could buy his girlfriend with the money he had just stolen from the idiot who had just enjoyed his body.

  38

  Gushgy, Turkmenistan 22nd Motorized Division Headquarters

  Although there are only 100,000 nationals in Turkmenistan that hold Russian passports and as a number they represented about four percent of the population. In recent years the Turkmen authorities had tried to abolish dual citizenship, and thus force Russian passport holders to either leave for Russia or renounce their Russian citizenship until a vigorous pushback led by Putin since the Crimea incident had caused Turkmen authorities to back down. At that time officials had worried that Turkmen citizens might embrace the Ukrainian Euromaidan spirit if they had full access to news about Ukraine but to their relief the years of stifling government repression had left the population fearful and unwilling to take those risks.

  That had instantly changed under Balysh's regime, having been elected under a wave of freedom he had turned the people of Turkmenistan into an overt force, something the military command of Turkmenistan who up to that moment controlled the profits of the gas had found completely unacceptable.

  Much like the Military in Egypt had done when they had found their economic interests which included local civil industry, foreign partnerships related to transportation, oil and gas, and industrial-scale environmental projects, such as wastewater treatment and energy generation were under threat by the Muslim Brotherhood, the Turkmenistan military used the crisis to contact the SVR in order to broker a deal and give Russia the opportunity to firmly bring the former Soviet state under its influence. A deal that would see unmarked military units of Russia being redeployed into Turkmenistan in and around the key distribution centers for the gas.

  Igor Valeriyoych Protasov, the young but experienced thirty-six-year-old Zaslon (the Russian equivalent of the CIA's Special Activities Division) agent dressed in combat gear with his dark and hair cut crew cut style, brown eyes, and olive skin due to his mother's Chechen heritage, listened carefully to the Goshunbashi (the Turkmen word for Army General) called Guwan? Hangeldi?ew. He was doing so because he had been assigned to him to protect him and because he was the man that the SVR had determined would act as Russia's puppet leader in the re-integration of Turkmenistan back into the fold.

  "Which units are loyal to the President?" Igor asked.

  The Goshunbashi smiled.

  "He has a few men belonging to the Presidential Guard who will do their duty but has no division commanders or supporters in the air force who will come to his aid," he replied proudly.

  Igor nodded. The plan designed by the SVR analysts was simple and proven, just as Russia had done in Crimea only in this case the lead officer was Igor. The Goshunbashi and members of the Spetsnaz, the elite military formation under the control of the military intelligence service known as the GRU, would as unmarked armed forces begin to take over key installations in Turkmenistan alongside members of the Turkmenistan military. Once the exercise was complete it would then allow the Gsohunbashi and men loyal to him to take over the government by removing Balysh supporters and commence their putsch.

  At that point of the operation the SVR's assets reporting to Igor that were embedded into fictitious groups would come on the streets and announce the takeover was in fact a "liberation," ensuring the world's media was present to record it.

  The other part of the plan included the rounding up of the any Muslim or community leader that came out to protest against the coup. They would be either arrested until the takeover had been completed and elections had been held to bring validation to the new government or be killed.

  "When do you wish to start the operation?" asked Igor.

  "Four in the morning," the General replied with a smile.

  Igor nodded picked up the encrypted Codex phone and dialed the number belonging to the Director of Zaslon. Once answered, there was no small talk between the two men.

  "BUCEPHALUS FOURAM," Igor announced using the name of the operation (a term that was taken from the name of the famous horse of Alexander the Great, the first conqueror of Turkmenistan).

  "I will let the President know," said the calm voice at the other end.

  39

  Paris

  Jennet was distraught. Pacing the floor of the Presidential Suite of the Ritz for the last three hours as she had desperately tried to find a way to contact her husband, who at this moment it appeared to the world had been placed under house arrest by the Chief of the Army staff Guwan? Hangeldi?ew on charges of stealing the wealth of the Turkmenbashi (the official term for the people of Turkmenistan).

  Nobody was taking her calls. Not the Ambassador. Not Balysh's Private Secretary or worse still even her sister or mother at their apartment in Ashgabat. In desperation, she rang the General Manager of the hotel that had been left to her son, only to be told that he was instructed by Ruslan's oldest daughter not to speak to her.

  "Traitors one and all!" she screamed at the television in despair.

  The house phone rang. Her son's nanny picked it up and then quickly handed it to her.

  "Yes!" screamed Jennet.

  "Madam, I have a lady from the American Embassy here asking to speak to you."

  "Finally!" she said after telling the front desk to show them upstairs.

  A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Immediately ordered her bodyguard to open it. He reluctantly did so with his weapon drawn at the ready.

  Standing at the door was an auburn colored longhaired young lady of no more than twenty-seven dressed in a dark blue business suit and silk top with her hair up in a bun.

  Ignoring the drawn weapon of the bodyguard as she calmly handed ove
r her identification to the terrified Nanny who without looking at it promptly handed it to Jennet.

  The first lady of Turkmenistan scanned the badge.

  The woman's name was Miss Susan Kelly. Next to her face was the holographic seal of the United States on it and her title telling Jennet that she worked for the Bureau of Diplomatic Security (DS), the security and law enforcement arm of the U.S. Department of State that among other things is responsible for providing a safe and secure environment for the conduct of U.S. foreign policy.

  She nodded for her bodyguard to let Miss Kelly into the suite, having decided it looked genuine.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Amayradovova. The Embassy has been asked by the Secretary of State to offer all necessary assistance to you," Susan said. "With your permission I would like to invite my agents to join us!"

  A relieved looking Jennet readily accepted the offer.

  The young lady smiled. Then promptly tapped her earpiece and ordered.

  "ROXANNA has accepted; secure the location."

  Seconds later the Codex phone belonging to Miss Kelly rang. The young agent answered the call. To Jennet it appeared that the woman had immediately stood to attention.

  "Ma'am, I have the Secretary of State of the United States of America on the line. He would like to speak to you," she said in her New Jersey drawl.

  For the second time in as