Endangered Species: PART 1 (13 page)

Perhaps, in spite of the Laski affair, there
remained a prospect for him to achieve his career goal. The
Directorate KR: External Counter-Intelligence. This was the
Directorate that carried out infiltration of foreign intelligence
and security services and exercised surveillance over Russian
citizens abroad. It was a position of power and influence. Federov
had coveted it for years.

As a
UNESCO World Heritage Site, automobile traffic generally was
prohibited in the Kremlin. But not all traffic. Business involving
the office of the president was a different matter. The aging
ZiL-41047, in which Federov was riding, rolled by
St Basil's Basilica with its elaborate paint
combinations and byzantine minarets at the foot of Red Square. The
old car was one of the last of its line to be produced
before
production ceased in 2002, as
Russian tastes began to favor luxury cars produced by Western
nations.
This one had been in service for
many years, and, while hardly a luxury car, had been well
maintained. Despite that, Federov was offended that Vasilyev hadn’t
sent a more prestigious car for him. He suspected it was a form of
message that had to do with his performance on the last mission. It
had not gone well at all.

Moments later the ZiL
rolled to a stop near a side entrance to the Senate Building,
official residence of the Russian president. The driver got out and
opened a rear door for Federov. At last, he thought with slight
satisfaction, a little respect. Federov was a big man at six two
and two hundred fifteen pounds, but the two men who emerged through
the side door and trotted down the steps toward him were much
larger. Federov quickly sized them up as FSB, the Russian Federal
Security Service or
Federalnaya Sluzhba
Bezopasnosti
. It was responsible for
counterintelligence, antiterrorism, and surveillance of the
military. This further offended him. He wondered, had he fallen so
far that he was to be escorted like a prisoner by virtual guards?
He refused to accept responsibility for Chaim Laski’s fuck-ups.
Between Laski and his chief Ukrainian thug, Maksym, the entire
operation in America had been compromised. Laski was dead and
Maksym undoubtedly was back in the Kievan ghetto that had spawned
him.
So where was any of that my
fault
, Federov wondered. Why would Vasilyev
and the president punish him? He had told them on previous
occasions that Laski was an arrogant, glutinous fool, more
interested in his lavish life style than in the carrying through
competently on his role in the operation. A brilliant man, yes, but
really nothing more than a glorified paymaster who distributed
funds provided by the Russian State to further its purposes in
America. In any event, it wasn’t the end of the world. Certainly,
Vasilyev would have had a backup plan in place for just such a
situation as this.

The two hefty FSB men escorted Federov down
a very long and elaborately decorated hall. Although they were
larger than he was, Federov was secure, almost to the point of
arrogance, that they were not a match for him. They crossed a large
chamber, which Federov recognized as the Heraldic or Ambassadorial
Hall. He knew it was called by both names because its décor was
dominated by the Russian coat of arms; and it also was where the
Russian president received the representatives of foreign nations.
Beyond it were the suite of representative rooms and chambers in
the former Senate Palace, including the Small or Oval Hall. The
Representative or Ceremonial Office of the Russian president was
located there. Federov knew that the president’s Work Office was
located elsewhere in the building. The two FSB men led Federov to
the Representative Office and one of them motioned with his head
for him to enter. Federov was not sure what to make of this. He
knew the president used this room to meet with important foreign
dignitaries. Did the fact that he was being summoned here indicate
that his career was not in jeopardy, he wondered. He stepped into
the room. It was elegant, yet simple. Pale green and white walls,
crystal chandeliers, and a wooden floor made of several varieties
of expensive wood. A large desk dominated the room, surrounded by
the Russian coat of arms and flag as well as the president’s
standard. The walls were adorned with portraits of past Russian
leaders, civilian and military. Across the room was a large
fireplace framed in black onyx, and accented by heavy, ornate
bronze pieces. A large mirror, also framed in the same onyx, was
centered above the mantel. Federov noticed that it was positioned
in such a way that it reflected the entire suite of halls outside
the Representative Office. There was a setting of very formal, but
comfortable looking chairs near the fireplace.

The president and Vasilyev were waiting for
him there. Vasilyev waved him to a chair that was positioned in
front of the president’s desk. He and the president continued to
sit near the fireplace. The positioning of the chairs wasn’t lost
on Federov. The president, a small man with a receding hairline,
thin face and piercing ice-blue eyes, just stared at him. Federov
was very much aware that the Russian president was a veteran of the
KGB’s blackest ops apparatus. A former Russian president, Boris
Yeltsin, had appointed this man as director of the FSB. There was
very little that could frighten Federov, but he was beginning to
feel uncomfortable.

Vasilyev skipped the usual small talk and
got directly to the point of the meeting. “You are a very
intelligent man, Kirill. I assume you know the purpose of this
meeting?”

Federov glanced at the president and
nodded.

“
Good. As a result of the
unexpected situation in America, we have suffered a setback.”
Vasilyev stared at his protégé for several long moments, but didn’t
say anything more.

Federov knew better than to speak. He was
being tested. To offer excuses or blame others would sound like
whining and make him appear to be weak. He didn’t want any part of
that. How he emerged from this meeting would depend almost entirely
on how he conducted himself. He sat. Silently.

Vasilyev looked at the president then back
at Federov. “You are not on trial here, Kirill. The failure of
others involved in the operation, particularly the Jew, Laski,
caused our plans to become untracked.”

Federov remained silent. The ethnic slur
wasn’t lost on him. Anti-Semitism was alive and well in Russia.
Always had been, always would be, he thought. Russia’s history of
pogroms was notorious. He knew many dedicated and patriotic Jews
who served the State skillfully, but some parts of a nation’s
culture never seemed to change.

“
Yet,” Vasilyev said, “you
were the ranking official onsite. You must bear some responsibility
for the setback.”

Federov nodded.

This brought a slight smile to his mentor’s
face. “There also were extenuating circumstances involved, such as
the reactivation of that American special forces unit…what were
they called?”

“
The Sleeping
Dogs.”

“
Ah, yes, the Sleeping
Dogs. A formidable addition to our opposition’s resources.”
Vasilyev turned and looked at the president, who said nothing but
continued to stare unblinkingly at Federov. His expression was
cold, impassive. It was impossible for Federov to determine where
the man stood on this issue. Was he being condemned or would he be
given a second chance?

“
Fortunately, our own
assets are more formidable,” Vasilyev said as he rose from his
seat. He paused and placed a long, thin finger against his long,
thin nose. He was tall and lean and, although he held a general’s
rank, he preferred well-tailored suits to a uniform. Many
considered him to be the second most powerful man in the
Federation, and feared him accordingly. Vasilyev also was brilliant
and cunning. His highly successful career was based on a keen
ability to read people accurately and manipulate them accordingly.
He was always very careful not to give the president any cause to
suspect that he harbored ambitious for that top office. Although it
was an elective office, the current president controlled the
elections and essentially was ruler for life.

Vasilyev walked closer to
Federov and sat on the edge of the president’s desk. He smiled
disarmingly at Federov. “Kirill, you are quite familiar with our
goals and operations in America. How would
you
proceed from this
point?”

The question made Federov
even more uncomfortable. Was this a trick? Were they testing his
hubris? Or, was Vasilyev, his old friend and mentor, offering him
an opportunity at redemption? He thought about the question at
length then said, “I know I have disappointed you, and for that I
am truly sorry. I have, however, been giving considerable thought
on how we might best move forward from this setback.”

The president spoke. His
voice was low, but there was a steely tone to it. “Let us hear
these thoughts of yours,” he said. The expression on his face gave
nothing away.

Federov took his time in
answering. He knew he needed to parse his words carefully. “The
loss of Laski was most regrettable, of course. It was not, however,
fatal to our efforts. I have always believed that the deposing of
that imbecile Carter by Ronald Reagan did far more damage and set
us back several years. Laski can be replaced rather
quickly.”

The president said nothing.
He sat very straight in his chair, legs crossed, his right elbow
resting on an arm of the chair. His thumb was under his chin and
the fingers rested against the side of his face. He continued to
regard Federov with his heavy-lidded eyes. This must be how the
serpent looks at its prey, Federov thought.

It was Vasilyev who spoke.
“Replace Laski quickly? And how would you accomplish that,
Kirill?”

“
Laski’s apparatus did not
die with him. It remains in place.” He paused and glanced at each
of the other men then focused his attention on the president.
Vasilyev may be asking the questions, but Federov had no doubts who
ultimately would make the call. “Specifically, Comrade Laski was a
member of, and worked with the Alliance for Geopolitical Unity, or
AGU. That organization remains in place.”

“
Ah, yes,” Vasilyev said
and favored Federov with a cold smile. “The AGU, that group of
undeservedly wealthy Americans and their sycophantic political
lackeys. They are to be our saviors?”

The president pulled his
hand away from his chin and said, “They have been a valuable tool
for us for the past century. Have you forgotten,
Gennady”

Vasilyev’s response was
quick. “Indeed they have, Mr. President. I am aware of their value
to us in the achievement of our ultimate goal. Their own goal, that
of a one-world government and society is very similar to ours. The
difference, of course, is their reason for such a system. As
industrialists and investment bankers, they would become even
wealthier and more powerful if they controlled the global money
supply and banking system. It is their insatiable greed that blinds
them to so much and enables us to manipulate them for our
purposes.”

The president nodded his
head slowly. “It is written in the
Bhagavad Gita
that there are three
gates to self-destructive hell: lust, anger, and greed. The avarice
of these people, the AGU, will be the means of their eventual
destruction…after we have used their connections and contributions
to achieve our ends.” His gaze moved back to Federov. It wasn’t
just the eyes that moved. His head turned slowly, almost
indolently. It was a long, narrow skull connected to a somewhat
squat body by a thin neck. Federov had always regarded the
president as an odd looking man.

“
Tell us more of your
thoughts for using the AGU in place of Laski,” the president said
to Federov.

“
As we know, our purpose
always has been to destroy the United States as a bastion of
capitalism and as a threat to Russian power and ambition. This has
not been realistic from a military perspective. Instead, we have
been engaged in subverting its political, economic, and social
structures from within. Funding this has required an enormous
investment of the State’s resources, and Laski was the one who
distributed those resources. To the requisite entities and
individuals.” Federov paused and looked first at the president then
at Vasilyev.

The president said nothing. He simply
continued to stare unblinkingly at Federov. Vasilyev, however, made
a gesture of impatience and said, “I trust you are going to tell us
something we don’t already know?”

Federov nodded. “The goal of the AGU, a
one-world government, also requires the destruction of the United
State’s economic, political and military power. That is why they
have been so eager to work with us toward that end. Now, if we look
at the situation in that respect, it seems logical to assume that
its members, many of whom are very highly placed in American
business, politics, and society, are in an ideal position to
distribute the funds that nurture our efforts and ensure our
success.”

Still without any display of emotion, the
Russian president said, “Tell us, Colonel Federov, do you think us
so incompetent that we would not already have thought of this?”

Federov didn’t know quite how to react to
the question. Ultimately, he gave a nervous shrug and said, “Of
course not, Mr. President. I’m sure you have thought well beyond
this point.”

“
Yes, we have,” Vasilyev
said. “You have spent much time in America, Kirill, and have met
with some of the more highly placed members of the AGU or their
agents. I would like to hear your observations regarding their
intentions once our destruction of the United States is complete.
You have heard the president wisely quoting Vedic scriptures
regarding the greed of these people. Do they view
us
as the stooges in this
relationship?”