“We tricked a dozen Russian military wives into slowly giving away personal information about their husbands. We made them believe that they would be helping boost morale among officers by posing for a pinup calendar.
“We had them strike sexy poses while dressed in their husbands’ uniforms, which helped us uncover even more information about the men. The more biographical nuggets we were able to mine, the more targeted our hacking was able to become. We not only were able to locate where the officers lived and what they were paid, but where they had served, where they were currently serving, their cell phone numbers, operational orders, email accounts and passwords, et cetera. It is an absolute treasure trove of information, which we’ll be handing over to Ukrainian Intelligence in the coming days, and none of it would have been possible without the participation of the men’s wives.”
“And the humiliation component? Are they humiliated because they didn’t realize they were assisting our side?” she asked.
“There’s that,” Nicholas conceded. “Also, we couldn’t let those sexy pictures go to waste.”
Her eyes widened. “You actually created a calendar?”
“Absolutely. In fact, the Cyber Resistance had insisted. Some of the photos the women provided were quite revealing. And, as it turned out, multiple women had posed for even racier pictures, something the Cyber Resistance uncovered as they hacked into their phones and email accounts.”
“Did the calendar get distributed to the husbands’ fellow officers?”
“It was posted on the internet and emails were sent to everyone in each of their divisions.”
“Thatishumiliating,” she stated.
“And corrosive,” Nicholas added. “From the top down and the bottom up. It erodes confidence in the husbands—both from the troops they’re in charge of leading and from the leaders higher up the chain who now question whether those officers are competent and can be trusted.”
“What about the second surprise?”
The little man handed her the other piece of paper.
“?‘Come Fly with Me,’?” she read aloud. “Like the Frank Sinatra song?”
“Exactly. In fact, the second operation I’m going to share with you was named Operation Acapulco, after one of the lyrics in the song.”
“And is this another operation meant to humiliate the Russians?”
Nicholas smiled. “Anytime one of our operations is successful, I hope the Russians feel humiliated, but to answer your question, no. The goal here is not humiliation. Our goal is to get Russia to help in the war effort by giving their best airplanes to Ukraine.”
Yulia guffawed. “You have got to be joking.”
“I’m totally serious.”
“Why would Russia give Ukraine anything, but especially aircraft?”
“You’re right,” said the little man. “I should have said they’re going to let us buy them for a fraction of what they’re worth.”
The young woman took another spoonful of borscht and encouraged Nicholas to keep talking.
“The plan for Operation Acapulco is simple. We convince three Russian pilots to defect to three different Ukrainian air bases with their aircraft. When they land, each pilot receives Ukrainian citizenship, one million dollars cash, and assistance smuggling their family members out of Russia for resettlement anywhere in Europe they choose.”
“Wow. Has this happened? Because if it has, this is the first time I am hearing about it.”
“It’s not complete. Not yet. It’s still an ongoing operation.”
“How far along are you?” she asked.
“We’ve established contact with three pilots. All have agreed. One hasoffered to drug his copilot. One has offered to claim a technical malfunction that will force him to land. And the third is still working on what he thinks his best course of action will be.”
“I can’t believe it.”
Nicholas smiled. “Neither could the pilots. They thought it was a scam at first; that we were Russian Intelligence trying to test their loyalty and entrap them.”
“Of course they did. They’re not stupid. They’re pilots, after all. How did you get to them?”
“Two months after the war started, Ukraine created a law that said that any Russian who voluntarily surrendered high-end military equipment would be generously compensated. In particular, helicopters were worth five hundred thousand dollars and bombers, fighter jets, and fixed-wing attack aircraft were worth one million. We made sure that those bounties were well publicized inside Russia.