to risk the turmoil Khenkin’s disgrace would cause. They needed Khenkin to
make the plan work.
But of course if Vorobyev backed Khenkin now and there were more
failures, Doctorov would have the general neatly boxed in. That was an
accepted part of the game of politics in the Kremlin, and Doctorov was a
master player. The KGB chief was the sort of man who paid far more attention
to his personal position and security than he did to trifling issues of
victory and defeat. It was that kind of mentality that had hamstrung the
Politburo throughout most of the Cold War and made the reforms of Gorbachev
inevitable. But the cures embraced by the reformers had been worse than the
disease they were meant to combat, and Vorobyev was willing to tolerate
Doctorov as long as the Union could be returned to its old status as a
superpower.
“I think the admiral can be considered blameless in this matter,”
Vorobyev said smoothly. “This looks more like an accidental escalation.
Khenkin’s predictions are rarely wrong, but no one can allow for the tensions
of the moment. The Americans fired … but we have no way of knowing if it
was premeditated or simply a tactical miscalculation.”
“Surely you are not suggesting we ignore the matter?” Foreign Minister
Anton Ivanovich Boltin looked shocked. “Whether the cause was an error or
some deliberate Western policy, shots have been fired. The Americans will not
ignore that. Not this time.” He paused. “This is not so much a military
failure as one of intelligence, though. Surely there were signs that the
Americans might be pushed into action.”
Vorobyev studied the Foreign Minister thoughtfully. He had been a
reasonably loyal member of the old cabinet, compliant with hard-line policies
but apparently close to the President. He was known as a good Party man, but
first and foremost as a survivor. Now he seemed to be siding with the
military against the KGB, and when a skilled fence-sitter came out clearly on
one side or another of a Kremlin power struggle, it was a good indication of
where the power lay. There were many lingering resentments between the Party
and the KGB. It was hard to forget the days when the KGB had allowed the
reformers to consolidate power and outlaw the Party altogether.
“I did not say that we would ignore the situation,” Vorobyev said,
carefully ignoring the barbed comment about intelligence failures. He was
glad to know the military was still on top in the new power structure, but he
didn’t intend to allow rivalries to come out in the open just yet.
“Obviously, with tensions as high as they are now there is no question of
trying to smooth this matter over with the Americans. Their neutrality would
not have lasted much longer in any event. Norway is an old ally of theirs and
we were lucky to get as much time as they have given us.”
Boltin nodded thoughtfully. “True enough. In that much, at least, the
KGB’s predictions were accurate.” He favored Doctorov with a venomous look,
and there were scattered nods around the table from some of the other
politicians.
“Yes, we all owe the Committee for State Security a vote of thanks for
their masterful analysis of the West’s situation,” Vorobyev interjected
quickly before the KGB chief could react to Boltin’s thinly veiled insult. He
needed Doctorov’s good will more than the Party’s, at least for now, and they
couldn’t afford to waste time or effort in internal squabbles. The new
government’s control over the Soviet Union was still tenuous at best, though
the mobilization against the “possible spread of Western anarchy” was rapidly
allowing the Red Army and the KGB to deploy enough strength to dominate key
areas. “We always knew that there were risks involved in Rurik’s Hammer, that
there were some elements we would not be able to control. Neither the KGB nor
Admiral Khenkin can be held responsible for what the Americans choose to do.”
“But what do we do?” Ubarov demanded. “War with the Americans was never
a part of the plan.”
“Not an all-out war, no.” Vorobyev smiled. “It is in no one’s interest