Hood continued reading. ” ‘Given the military warning General Rodgers heard at the White House meeting last night,’ Liz wrote, ‘I do not believe that Zhanin would pick a fight somewhere to prove himself or to appease the military. He prides himself on rhetoric and ideas, not on force or the use of arms. In these early days of his new government, his overriding concern will be not to alienate the West.’ ”
Hood sat back, shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You want some coffee?” Rodgers asked as he continued to scan the report.
“No, thanks. I swam in the stuff on the flight back.”
“Why didn’t you try and sleep?”
Hood laughed. “Because I got the last seat in coach, stuffed between the loudest-snoring humans on earth. Both of whom took off their shoes and passed right out. I can’t watch those cropped and edited movies on airplanes, so I just sat there and wrote a thirty-page letter of apology to my family.”
“Was Sharon mad or disappointed?” Rodgers asked.
“Both and more,” said Hood. He sat back up. “Hell, let’s get back to the Russians. I’ve got a better chance of understanding them, I think.”
Rodgers gave him a light swat on the back as they looked at the screen.
“Liz says here that Zhanin isn’t an impulsive man,” Hood said. ” ‘He always sticks to his plans, guided by what he feels is moral or right, whether or not it’s at odds with prevailing wisdom. See extracts Z-17A and Z-27C from Pravda.’ ”
Hood brought up the cited newspaper clippings and saw how, in 1986, Zhanin strongly backed the plan of Deputy Interior Minister Abalya to crack down on mobsters who were abducting foreign businessmen in Georgia, even after Abalya was assassinated, and how he earned the enmity of hard-liners by refusing to support a law in 1987 that would have banned the use of Lenin look-alikes for what were referred to as ‘evenings of mockery.’
“A man of integrity,’ ” Hood read Liz’s closing comments, ” ‘who has been shown to err on the side of risk-taking rather than caution.’ ”
Rodgers said, “Part of me wonders if that risk-taking would include a military adventure.”
“Part of me wonders that too,” Hood admitted. “He didn’t hesitate to recommend using the militia against gangsters in Georgia.”
“True,” Rodgers said, “though you can argue that that isn’t the same thing.”
“How so?”
“Using force to maintain the peace is different from using force to assert one’s will,” Rodgers said. “There’s a point of legality there that, psychologically, would make a big difference to someone like Zhanin.”
“Well,” Hood said, “this pretty well agrees with what you decided in the Oval Office last night. Zhanin’s not the problem. Let’s see who else might be, then.”
Hood went to the next section of Liz’s report. She had playfully titled it Loose Cannons. He began scrolling through the names.
“General Viktor Mavik,” he read, Marshal of Artillery in the Army.”
“He was one of the officers who planned the attack on the Ostankino television center in 1993,” Rodgers said, “defied Yeltsin, and still survived. He’s still got powerful friends in and out of government.”
“‘But he doesn’t like acting alone,”‘ Hood read. “Then there’s our friend General Mikhail Kosigan, whom she describes here rather colorfully as ‘a real nutburger.’ He was Chief Marshal of Artillery and openly defended a pair of officers who had been rebuked and reprimanded by Gorbachev for ordering suicide missions in Afghanistan.”
” ‘Gorbachev gave him the ultimate punishment short of a court-martial,’ ” Rodgers read, ” ‘a demotion, after which he went to Afghanistan and personally commanded repeats of those same missions. This time, however, they turned out differently. He threw men and arms at the rebel hideout until it was taken.’ ”
“He definitely sounds like someone to watch,” Hood said as he inched the text ahead.
The next name on the screen was the most recent addition.
“Interior Minister Nikolai Dogin,” Hood said, then read, ” ‘This man never met a capitalist he didn’t despise. If you look at picture Z/D-1 you’ll see that the CIA photographed him secretly visiting Beijing when Gorbachev came to power. Dogin was Mayor of Moscow at the time, and he was secretly trying to rally the support of international Communists against the new President.’ ”
“There’s something about you former Mayors that worries me,” Rodgers said as Hood accessed up the photograph.
His deadpan remark drew a smile from Hood.
The men leaned close to the monitor and read the “Eyes Only” notation on the photograph. It indicated that the picture had been turned over to Gorbachev by the U.S. Ambassador.
Rodgers sat back. “Dogin must have had a hell of a lot of support to stay in power after Gorby found out about that. ”
“Absolutely,” said Hood. “The kind of support you nurture over the years and build into a network. The kind of support that lets you slip a government right out from under a duly elected president.”
The intercom outside the door beeped. “Chief, it’s Bob Herbert.”
Hood pressed a button on the side of his desk and the lock clicked open. The door swung in and an agitated Bob Herbert wheeled over. He dropped a diskette on the desk. Whenever Herbert was upset or puzzled, his Mississippi accent thickened. It was very thick now.
“Somethin’ happened at eight P.M., local time,” Herbert said. “Somethin’ big.”
Hood glanced down at Herbert’s diskette. “What happened?”
“All of a sudden, Russians are every-goddamn-where.” He pointed at the disk. “Run it. G’wan.”
Hood downloaded the data and saw that Herbert wasn’t exaggerating. Pilots and planes from Orenburg were being transferred to the Ukrainian border. The Baltic Fleet was on a low-level alert, ostensibly as a drill. And the battery of four Hawk satellites usually used to monitor the West had been diverted to potential Russian targets in Poland.
“Moscow’s paying special attention to Kiev and Warsaw,” Rodgers said as he studied the satellite coordinates.
Herbert said, “What’s interestin’ about the Hawks is that the downlink station in Baikonur went silent at eight P.M., local time.”
“Just the station?” Rodgers asked. “Not the satellite dishes?”
“Not the dishes,” Herbert said.
“Then where’s the data going?” Hood asked.
Herbert said, “We’re not sure-though here’s where it gets real curious. We detected increased electrical activity in St. Petersburg at exactly eight P.M., local time. Now, that happens to have been when the TV station in the Hermitage began broadcasting, so it could have been coincidental.”
“But you wouldn’t bet the Ponderosa on it,” Hood said.
Herbert shook his head.
“This is what Eival Ekdol promised us,” Rodgers said, still studying the deployment. “Something military. And it’s being done very cleverly. If you take each of these events individually, they’re all pretty routine except for the change in the Hawk targets. Materiel is moved from the port at Vladivostok on a regular basis. Maneuvers are held on the Ukrainian border twice a year, and it’s time for that now. The Baltic Fleet frequently drills close to shore so that isn’t unexpected.”
“What you’re saying,” Hood said, “is that unless somebody had the big picture, it would seem as though nothing were amiss.”
“Right,” Rodgers said.
“But what I don’t understand,” said Hood, “is if Zhanin isn’t behind whatever’s going on, how could an operation of this magnitude be kept from him? He’d have to be aware that something’s going on.”
“You know better than anyone that a leader’s only as good as his intelligence,” Rodgers said.
“I also know that if you tell two people something in Washington, it’s no longer a secret,” Hood said. “That’s got to be true in the Kremlin as well.”
“It isn’t,” said Herbert. “If only one person knows something over there, it’s no longer a secret.”
“You’re forgetting something,” said Rodgers. “Shovich. A man like that can use threats and money to shut down the information pipeline pretty effectively. Besides, though he may not have the big picture, Zhanin probably knows about some of what’s going on. Dogin or Kosigan may have gone to him right after the election and convinced him to authorize a few of the maneuvers and troop transfers to keep the military happy and busy. ”
“Dogin would benefit from that as well,” Herbert pointed out. “If at some point any of this goes wrong, Zhanin’s autograph is on several of the orders. There’s mud on everyone.”
Hood nodded, then cleared the screen. “So Dogin’s the probable architect, and St. Petersburg is his sandbox.”
“Yes,” said Herbert. “And Striker’s gone to play with him.”
Hood continued to stare at the black screen. “The Interpol report is due at three,” he said. “That’s when you guys sit down with the Hermitage plans and updates and figure out how to get inside.”
“Right,” said Rodgers.
Herbert said, “I’ve got the Tactics and Strategy team putting together plans for getting our team across the Neva, using an airdrop, power rafts, or a midget submarine. Dom Limbos is overseeing it. He’s worked river crossings before. And Georgia Mosley in supplies knows what gear she may have to dig up in Helsinki.”