everyone could weigh in on, but no one person had all the answers. Not Homeland Security Secretary Norman Grigoryan. Not DNI Jack Evans or Chief of Staff John “Bernsie” Bernstein. Most of all, the president didn’t like what was going on there. Everyone knew it. The trouble went back to when Vladimir Putin started this march toward a return of Soviet-like control.
Putin had centralized control of the judiciary, the regional governors, the media, and the major oil companies. He used corrupt courts to seize the highly valued energy conglomerate Yukos. Its former chief ended up in a Far East prison camp joining others Putin systematically put away.
Through this period, Russia rolled back pluralism and limited contact between the East and West. But he didn’t return Russia to Soviet rule. It was more like Soviet-light. But now President Josef Gudinsky made Putin’s work look like child’s play. Gudinsky’s grab for total control over Russian life was another quickly developing K-PAN.
“Jack, am I correct to say that his FSB is looking every bit as bad as Stalin’s KGB?”
“It’s getting there,” the director of national intelligence paused, not certain if the president wanted him to pick up the story. When Taylor almost imperceptively tipped his head, he got his cue to continue. The country’s number one spy sat straight up. “Gudinsky is becoming more insulated and paranoid. His squads are eliminating Muslim dissidents. You can image where that will lead. At the same time, his paranoia about the West is turning Russia into a closed society again. He believes that everybody working in Foreign Service within Russia, whether it’s business or human rights, medicine or education, is merely a tool of western intelligence. And our sources close to him suggest that he thinks we’re behind plans to organize a popular uprising in Russia.”
“There’s no truth in that,” Morgan Taylor said.
“But he believes it,” Evans replied. “And he’s right about one thing.”
“Pray tell?” Grigoryan asked.
“We do have people inside. And another going in.”
“Who?” Grigoryan asked.
“No names,” Evans stated. “But rest assured that my asset will come back with valued intelligence.”
Evans began to outline the operation. He was cut off by the president’s phone. Taylor motioned for him to continue. However, by the fourth ring it was obvious the call from the president’s secretary wasn’t going to go away.
On the seventh ring, Morgan Taylor finally walked to his desk. “Hold that thought, Jack.” The president pressed the speaker button. “Yes, Louise.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. President. I have Director Mulligan for you. He’s quite insistent. He said it couldn’t wait.”
“Put him through.” Taylor picked up the phone. The rest of the conversation would at least be semiprivate. Not everything could be viewed as public, even in present company.
“Hello, Bob.”
This was the only thing the group heard. And nothing on his face gave any indication what they’d soon learn.
“Customs officers shot and killed a suspect attempting to enter the country through Houston.”
Two minutes later, the president recapped the conversation. He was stone cold. “FRT flagged a subject at George Bush Intercontinental Airport. He was on a federal watch list. They took him down while he attempted to escape.”
“Took him down?” Norman Grigoryan asked.
“Shot him.” The head of Homeland Security was about to ask the next question. The president saved him the effort. “He’s dead.”
“They had to kill him?” Grigoryan was furious. “Do they think they’re in the fucking Wild West?”
“He seized an agent’s gun and shot a man in the crowd.”
“Any idea who it was?” Grigoryan pressed.
“An alias, most likely on his passport. Working on bonafides now,” the president said grimly. “ Where he was going and what he was up to…no, not yet.”
The two advisors to the
Putin had centralized control of the judiciary, the regional governors, the media, and the major oil companies. He used corrupt courts to seize the highly valued energy conglomerate Yukos. Its former chief ended up in a Far East prison camp joining others Putin systematically put away.
Through this period, Russia rolled back pluralism and limited contact between the East and West. But he didn’t return Russia to Soviet rule. It was more like Soviet-light. But now President Josef Gudinsky made Putin’s work look like child’s play. Gudinsky’s grab for total control over Russian life was another quickly developing K-PAN.
“Jack, am I correct to say that his FSB is looking every bit as bad as Stalin’s KGB?”
“It’s getting there,” the director of national intelligence paused, not certain if the president wanted him to pick up the story. When Taylor almost imperceptively tipped his head, he got his cue to continue. The country’s number one spy sat straight up. “Gudinsky is becoming more insulated and paranoid. His squads are eliminating Muslim dissidents. You can image where that will lead. At the same time, his paranoia about the West is turning Russia into a closed society again. He believes that everybody working in Foreign Service within Russia, whether it’s business or human rights, medicine or education, is merely a tool of western intelligence. And our sources close to him suggest that he thinks we’re behind plans to organize a popular uprising in Russia.”
“There’s no truth in that,” Morgan Taylor said.
“But he believes it,” Evans replied. “And he’s right about one thing.”
“Pray tell?” Grigoryan asked.
“We do have people inside. And another going in.”
“Who?” Grigoryan asked.
“No names,” Evans stated. “But rest assured that my asset will come back with valued intelligence.”
Evans began to outline the operation. He was cut off by the president’s phone. Taylor motioned for him to continue. However, by the fourth ring it was obvious the call from the president’s secretary wasn’t going to go away.
On the seventh ring, Morgan Taylor finally walked to his desk. “Hold that thought, Jack.” The president pressed the speaker button. “Yes, Louise.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. President. I have Director Mulligan for you. He’s quite insistent. He said it couldn’t wait.”
“Put him through.” Taylor picked up the phone. The rest of the conversation would at least be semiprivate. Not everything could be viewed as public, even in present company.
“Hello, Bob.”
This was the only thing the group heard. And nothing on his face gave any indication what they’d soon learn.
“Customs officers shot and killed a suspect attempting to enter the country through Houston.”
Two minutes later, the president recapped the conversation. He was stone cold. “FRT flagged a subject at George Bush Intercontinental Airport. He was on a federal watch list. They took him down while he attempted to escape.”
“Took him down?” Norman Grigoryan asked.
“Shot him.” The head of Homeland Security was about to ask the next question. The president saved him the effort. “He’s dead.”
“They had to kill him?” Grigoryan was furious. “Do they think they’re in the fucking Wild West?”
“He seized an agent’s gun and shot a man in the crowd.”
“Any idea who it was?” Grigoryan pressed.
“An alias, most likely on his passport. Working on bonafides now,” the president said grimly. “ Where he was going and what he was up to…no, not yet.”
The two advisors to the
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