Page 88 of Dead Fall

It was all Grechko could do not to roll his eyes. “Second-largest army in NATO and host of the Allied Land Command headquarters. Turkey is one of our top three trading partners and last year more than doubled its trade with the Russian Federation. Energy and tourism are key markets. Turkey has an embassy here in Moscow and consulates-general in St. Petersburg, Kazan, and Novorossiysk, as well as an honorary consulate in Ekaterinburg, while we have an embassy in Ankara and consulates-general in Istanbul, Antalya, and Trabzon, as well as an honorary consulate in Izmir.

“Over the objections of the United States, Turkey is an adopter of our S-400 missile system and has expressed interest in us helping their air force develop next-generation fighters. The Turkish drone program has—”

Peshkov held up his hand to stop him. “You are obviously well versed in all things Turkish.” Turning to Tsybulsky, he said, “Tell him your idea.”

“Three NATO member states abut the Black Sea—Turkey, Bulgaria, and Romania—along with two non-NATO members, Russia and Ukraine. Control over the Black Sea is a key Russian objective. Interestingly enough, the Black Sea happens to be one of NATO’s most underdeveloped strategies. The Americans realize this and are pushing to reposition the Black Sea as the center of NATO’s focus. There arerumors that they even want to increase the U.S. military footprint and economic engagement in the region.”

Grechko had heard similar rumblings, but military strategy was neither his area of focus nor of expertise. He didn’t quite grasp why he was being subjected to this lecture. Nevertheless, he remained quiet and allowed the President’s chum to hold forth.

“The Black Sea is NATO’s Achilles’ heel. Their influence over Europe’s southeastern flank depends on them controlling it. It’s like they have suddenly woken up to a huge gap in their planning. There’s just one problem—Turkey.

“Turkey is the Black Sea’s gatekeeper. They control the Dardanelles and Bosporus straits—the only way into the Mediterranean—and they have no desire to cede even a modicum of that control to NATO.

“When our special military operation in Ukraine began, Turkey exercised its legal powers under the 1936 Montreux Convention to close the straits and lock the Black Sea down. Only Russian warships returning to their home ports have been allowed through. No NATO warships have been permitted entry. As I suggested to the President, this policy works to our benefit and, for the foreseeable future, should be encouraged.”

Grechko didn’t disagree. There was no telling what kind of trouble could be created by NATO warships steaming into the Black Sea and providing assistance to Ukraine from off the coast. He still, however, had no idea what this had to do with him.

Tsybulsky stared at him as if a big, obvious lightbulb should be going off in his head. It wasn’t.

After a long and uncomfortable pause, Grechko replied, “How can I be of service?”

“You should create a psychological campaign,” the oligarch said, karate-chopping his hands in the air, “rallying American citizens against involvement in the Black Sea.”

The intelligence officer wasn’t happy and shot Beglov a look.

“I have several ideas for you,” Tsybulsky continued. “But first, more vodka.”

At that moment, Grechko knew he was stuck. There was no way he was getting out of there anytime soon.

It was unfathomable what the war had reduced Peshkov to. Taking operational “pitches” from one of the President’s pals was an incredible indignity. At least when James Bond author Ian Fleming had given JFK ideas for dealing with Cuba, they had been coherent and somewhat creative.

Tsybulsky, on the other hand, was a complete moron. His ideas were terrible. But for the vodka, Grechko wondered if President Peshkov would have made him sit there and listen to the man babble on for half the night.

As soon as he was allowed to leave the Kremlin, he hurried outside and texted Inessa.

She apologized, but it was too late for her to meet with him—even for a nightcap. She didn’t know when she would be back in Moscow. Hopefully, they would see each other again soon. She wished him well and told him to take care. Russia was headed in a bad direction, and she feared for his safety.

That was the second time tonight someone had shared a geopolitical opinion that he didn’t disagree with.

As much as he detested Tsybulsky, supporting Turkey’s control over entry to the Black Seawasin Russia’s interest. It required, however, a prolonged, comprehensive strategy, not just a dumb, one-off psy ops campaign against the United States.

Then there was Inessa. She was right to be worried for Russia. He was worried for Russia as well. Things were not going well. Peshkov’s continued tightening of his inner circle, so that he was taking counsel from men like Tsybulsky, was extremely troubling. He wasn’t Hitler, but only Hitler could be Hitler. As the old saying went, history doesn’t repeat, but it does rhyme.

There was enough to be concerned about that Grechko began to ponder something he hadn’t pondered before—getting out.

CHAPTER 25

KHARKIVOBLAST

Jacks woke Harvath up. “We’ve got company,” he said.

Harvath had no idea how long he’d been out, only that it felt like just a couple of minutes.

All the lights in the guest quarters remained out. Someone had cracked a few chem lights and tossed them in the corners so that there was just enough light to see by.

Harvath kitted up as fast as he could—plate carrier, battle belt, all of it. Thanks to Krueger, his helmet now sported a flip-up/flip-down, thermal imaging monocular. Securing his helmet, he powered up the device, grabbed his rifle, and mustered at the stairs with the other men who were already geared up and had their night-vision goggles on.

“Hookah and Biscuit are outside, on the far end of this building, facing the front doors of the convent,” said Jacks. “We have four armed hostiles who came over the back wall and are moving in this direction.”

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