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TWENTY-THREE

For more than a year, Barron Tallmon had coveted access to a particular concealed safe; coveted it since he'd first known of it. Not to rob it; his idiosyncracies did not include any particular desire to steal. But to know what was in it; he was a snoop.

More recently he'd become a snoop with an intent to injure. Maximally. Also recently, by means of an audiovisual bug he'd gotten hold of, he'd watched Massey dial the safe.

He had free access to Massey's office of course, and occasionally entered it legitimately. This time he entered it with treachery in mind.

Aided in the gray dawn by a small, tightly focused flashlight, he opened the safe. Inside, it was larger and deeper than he'd thought, containing two metal boxes, some large envelopes, and a book. His hands, unexpectedly shaking, withdrew one of the boxes at random. Finding the lid unlocked, he knelt with it on the carpet.

It held photographs and papers. He looked through them, careful not to disturb their order. All were old, perhaps kept for their blackmail potential. He filed in his memory the principal surname involved—it might prove useful—put the items back into the metal box, and returned it to the safe.

The book, richly bound, took his attention again. After a moment's hesitation, he removed it, and in the growing dawnlight scanned the large type of its first vellum page, its second, then beyond. His fingers and eyes moved quickly, then putting it back, he closed and locked the safe and slipped quickly from the room.

The next time Mr. Massey went to New York and left him here, Tallmon told himself, he'd photocopy the book.

***

On the second day after his congressional appearance, the president convened the National Security Council to hear Norman Godfrey, the CIA's chief specialist on the situation in the USSR. The CIA felt it had a reasonably complete and accurate picture now of the current situation there. Besides Godfrey and the Council—the president, vice president Cromwell, Secretary of State Coulter, and Secretary of Defense Campbell—several others were present around the large table: Milstead, as usual, and the directors of the CIA, the Defense Intelligence Agency, and the State Department's Bureau of Intelligence and Research. In addition, Father Flynn sat out of the way in the background.

After introducing Godfrey, the president turned to the CIA director. "Dr. Blackburn," he said, "is there anything you'd care to fill us in on before Mr. Godfrey begins the briefing?"

The CIA director stood up. "One thing, Mr. President—a matter of security; the gentleman in the clerical collar, whom you neglected to introduce. I believe his name is Stephen Joseph Flynn. He has no function here, and I recommend you send him out. We can anticipate some sensitive information being discussed."

The president didn't answer at once, but his face darkened visibly, and all eyes drew to him as if to a funnel cloud. The silence was electric, and after a very long fifteen seconds, the president spoke, his words measured. "Dr. Blackburn, I do not invite security risks to NSC meetings, nor do I need you to approve whom I invite. And if you ever again imply that the President of the United States is a fool, be very very careful that it's not to his face."

The tone of voice was dead calm, deadly calm, and the director's face reddened while Haugen spoke. At the end, the president's eyes locked with his, and the pink paled to an astonishing whiteness. For a moment it looked as if Blackburn might faint from lack of blood to the brain, and some of the others wondered what he'd seen in those blue eyes.

There was another long moment of silence, which Blackburn broke. "My apologies, sir," he said.

The eyes did not at once let him go, but when Haugen spoke again, his tone was casual, if more metallic than usual. "Sit, Dr. Blackburn."

The man sat, still pale, and the president turned his gaze to the specialist. "Further introduction shouldn't be necessary, Mr. Godfrey. We know your post, and we can assume you're qualified, so go ahead and start. We may interrupt from time to time, but mostly we'll try to let you talk, and save any questions till after you're done."

"Fine, sir." Godfrey seemed perhaps the least affected of them all by the president's unexpected anger, and it occurred to Haugen that Godfrey was probably the one here who knew Blackburn best. Perhaps he'd been pleased at what had happened; that could explain his calm.

"I was told you wanted this to start with the Kremlin coup," Godfrey said, "but I'd like to begin a few steps earlier, with the events just before the invasion of Iran. They seem definitely to be related." Haugen nodded. "Fine. Go ahead." Godfrey's focus withdrew inward to his subject. "The worsening worldwide economic decline of the past few years hit the Soviet Union too," he began. "Their perennial agricultural problems had eased somewhat with Gorbachev's reforms, but two successive drought years presented the Soviets with really serious food shortages. And the depression made the effects a lot worse than before, by seriously hurting their dollar inflow from exports: minerals, arms—even natural gas sales from their new pipeline to Europe. Which severely restricted their ability to import food, notably grain, because their credit wasn't worth much." He smiled ruefully. "There's been a lot of that going around lately.

"So there'd been some big demonstrations in the Soviet Union—even in the Russian Federated Republic, where that sort of thing had been almost unheard of. Less visible but more to the point, worker morale and discipline had slumped everywhere, and that includes Siberia, where the population has more freedom and privileges than elsewhere. And of course, industrial production slumped when discipline and morale slumped, which we can assume led to a further reduction in discipline and morale."

He paused and looked around at the others. "Those are things we have information on. Now we get into speculation. Our assumption is that the Kremlin decided to use their big military resource to develop some trade leverage, through a small, relatively safe war that could also be used to drum up the patriotism of the Russian people. Those, of course, are both ploys that other governments have used from time to time.

"And Iran was a likely target: Most of its army was in Iraq, and a puppet government in Teheran would give the Soviets trade leverage. We know now that the possibility was at least brought up in the Kremlin that with a puppet government in place, a Soviet-Iranian syndicate might be formed—a Soviet operation, actually; the Iranians would be window-dressing—to rehabilitate the gulf oilfields and refineries in return for long-term credits from Japan, western Europe, and others.

"The proposal may not look very promising, considering the Iranian topography, present Soviet resources, and the general hostility of Iranians to foreign influence, let alone foreign control. But sense or not, the fact is that the Soviets invaded. Really, the economic situation in the USSR is probably as bad as ours, overall—worse in some respects, not as bad in others—and there was undoubtedly a strong element of desperation in the situation." Godfrey shrugged. "And desperation can easily result in poor decisions.

"We're pretty much satisfied," he went on, "that Kulish and the Politburo never intended to take and control the entire country of Iran. Capture Teheran and establish a puppet regime; that was the rumor in the Party Central Committee. And of course, the Central Committee has its pipelines into the Politburo and the Military Council.

"Subsequent events indicate there was also a predictable side project of setting up an Iranian extension of the Afghan semi-autonomous Soviet Baluchistan, just to keep things upset and violent; if Iran ever became an independent nation again, a separate Baluchistan would ensure perennial trouble for it in the south.

"And if the Soviets decided later to pull out—even if a Shiite theocracy took over again there—the Soviets could always say they'd accomplished what they'd purportedly invaded for; to get the Iranians out of Iraq."

He spread his hands. "So trade leverage and a spur to patriotism seem to have been the Kremlin's rationale for the invasion. Which brings us to the coup.

"We definitely know that the Soviet army was very unhappy with Kulish's continuing rehabilitation of the KGB. And that it had been unhappy for years with Kremlin management of the economy. They considered, and correctly, that the Central Committee did a lot poorer job of running the civilian bureaucracy than the Military Council did with the military bureaucracy. But of course, thev were overlooking the difference in scope and circumstance."

Godfrey had shifted into a lecture mode. But he was a good lecturer, Haugen decided, and the subject was interesting.

"Meanwhile," Godfrey was saying, "things at home hadn't improved with the invasion. Civilian morale in Russia itself may or may not have risen a bit, but in the rest of the Soviet Union it definitely got worse. You know about the strikes and riots and sabotage in the Moslem SSRs.

"And then of course there was the truck-bomb explosion in Tashkent, in the Uzbek SSR. That shook a lot more than buildings; it shook the entire upper strata of government to realize that such a thing could happen in the Soviet Union. It was a trauma that went far beyond the physical damage; that we know as fact.

"So our conjecture is that Pavlenko and his immediate group in the Ministry of Defense decided to take over. And they needed—let's call it covering fire. We definitely know that Pavlenko's aide, Colonel Ivan Milukov, had flown to Teheran the day after it was captured, and talked to Army General Zotov there. We believe he carried a secret order from Pavlenko to attack into Iraq.

"An order not from the Politburo, but from the Ministry of Defense.

"Of course, they'd already have had a contingency plan for that. General staffs make plans for almost everything." Godfrey's eyes moved to Cromwell. "As the vice president can tell you, that's part of the job. The purpose of Milukov's trip would have been to activate it."

Haugen stopped him with a gesture. "Back up a step, Norman. You said Pavlenko's people needed covering fire to take over. What do you mean, 'covering fire?' And how does that tie in with ordering the invasion of Iraq?"

"Basically, sir, an expansion of the war would hold a considerable amount of national attention. The people wouldn't have their attention just on the coup; it wouldn't seem like quite such an enormity to the Russian people. And it's the Russian people we're talking about, not all the Soviet people.

"Also, an attack southwest toward Iraq without Politburo orders would absolutely have to draw severe disciplinary action against army high command. In Soviet politics, anything less would be taken as a fatal sign of weakness. And in the face of severe disciplinary action, a coup could be explained as the patriotic army defending itself against the corrupt Party. As it was, in a sense of the word.

"And with the military controlling the government, if for some reason they decided to pull out of Iraq, they could always say it was the old regime that had ordered them in. Who would there be to call them liars?

"Anyway, we have firm information that the Kremlin called Zotov to Moscow for disciplinary action. And he obeyed, to the extent that, that night, he got on a plane and started back. But obeyed doesn't seem to be quite the word for it. He probably went because flying back to Moscow would help the army cover its intention. His seeming to obey would make it look as if the army wasn't ready for a showdown.

"But his plane stopped at Vnukovo Airfield, some twenty miles southwest of Moscow, to avoid his arrest by KGB troops we know were waiting for him at Sheremetyevo Airfield.

"And at 0915 the next day, two companies of spetsnaz made a low-altitude daylight drop inside the Kremlin walls. That's about 230 men, all topflight killers. There was a firefight with the elite KGB troops inside that must have been a doozy. But when an airborne assault brigade began landing from Mi-6 helicopters, minutes later, in and around Red Square, the spetsnaz had the Kremlin gates open for them.

"At the same time, 0915 hours, a parachute division, replete with light tanks, armored rocket launchers, and armored automatic mortars, began dropping near KGB headquarters, outside the ring road, and enveloped it. Then they proceeded to more or less blow it apart, with everyone in it. There was quite a firefight there, too. By attacking in the daytime, they caught and destroyed probably seventy-five or eighty percent of the KGB headquarters staff. And with the certain exception of the spetsnaz, it's very doubtful that anyone below the level of regimental commander knew where they were going when they took off, or what they intended to do; so that hopefully no KGB spies would find out. They probably got their orders in flight.

"The entire operation was successful, except for one major failure: Party Secretary Kulish; his first deputy, P. S. Shafirov; and General Dolin, head of the KGB, somehow escaped the Kremlin. We don't have an inkling of how they pulled it off. The rest of the Politburo were arrested. Several were executed later that day, while three others condemned Kulish, Shafirov, and Dolin as traitors to the State. All civilian telephone service was discontinued, of course. And all nonmilitary air traffic was suspended, 'to prevent the criminals from escaping to the Americans.' "

Again the president gestured, and Godfrey stopped. "How did the Russian people react to all this?" Haugen asked.

"About the way we thought they would: They sat back to wait and watch. They don't seem to care much which way it goes.

"Incidentally, it's interesting that the army initially accused Kulish and company of being 'traitors to the State' instead of 'traitors to the Party.' But apparently they rethought things afterward, because since then they've called them both, in a sort of package curse: 'Traitors to the State and Party.' And meanwhile they've been wiping out all the KGB they can get their hands on.

"Of course, most of the KGB went underground, those who weren't underground already. Or dead. We know they're behind at least some of the demonstrations and outbreaks of sabotage in the Moslem SSRs. And even the Ukraine. If you'll recall, it was on Kiev television that Kulish and Shafirov appeared the day after the coup to denounce 'the counter-revolutionary czarist usurper, Pavlenko," and call for the army to revolt and return to 'the principles of Marxism-Leninism.' "

"I wondered about that," Cromwell said. "How did they manage to pull off that TV appearance? And how has Kulish stayed free so long?"

"Basically," Godfrey answered, "the army's done a lousy job of police work. They're not set up for it. The MVD is in charge of ordinary police work in the USSR, and they're mostly staying pretty much neutral, keeping their options open. Also, the central police files were stored in the KGB master computer in Moscow, and these were destroyed when the army shelled the place.

"There are thousands, probably tens of thousands of mimeograph machines cranking out pamphlets and underground newssheets attacking the Pavlenko government, and we can assume that the KGB is behind most of them. Or at least many of them. Opposing them are the army-controlled media: radio, television, and the press.

"So what they have going on there is a sort of semi-war between the military on the one hand and the KGB on the other. In a sense, the Party is actually more or less outside of it. It's semi-disowned the old leadership, to the extent of not mentioning it, and survives in the form of the bureaucracy, as a sort of apathetic political organism. The army needs the bureaucracy to keep the machinery of government and industry more or less running, and it's simply taken over without providing ideological leadership.

"Meanwhile the Russian people are more or less nonpartisan spectators, doing less work than ever, pilfering more than ever, and waiting to see who comes out on top. While ethnic non-Russians, mainly the Moslems, are exercising their decades of resentment by committing lots of minor and some major sabotage. And assassinations of local Party bigwigs with KGB help. Even though nominally the KGB is on the Party's side; anything to sow confusion and disorder until they get rid of the Pavlenko government and take over themselves.

"Actually, the Balts and most of the ethnically non-Russian Slavs have stayed relatively quiet, what with all the troops on hand. But they're surly, disobedient, and uncooperative."

The president interrupted. "Where do the Poles stand in this?" he asked.

"They're waiting too, but it's a different waiting. They're waiting for things to get worse. There are only two Soviet divisions in Poland itself, but there are twenty in East Germany and about fifteen in Byelorussia, on either side of Poland. Along with five more in Czechoslovakia to the south.

"If Soviet army morale begins to unravel badly—say there are mutinies in the Soviet divisions in the west—the Poles may very well revolt, and that could begin a more general revolt by the Czechs, East Germans, and Hungarians. They've all revolted before, of course, in the fifties and sixties. The danger, and it's a real one, is that the Poles may act too soon. It's the sort of thing that could pull the Russians together, and we'd rather see things reach a nice deep level of chaos before that happens."

Godfrey looked around the table then. "And that's about it. Are there any questions?"

While Godfrey waited, the president looked him over. "Mr. Godfrey," he said, "whose would you judge is the Soviet faction we'd have the best chance of negotiating some sort of accord with? A reasonably functional accord—functional enough that we wouldn't be living under the sword of Damocles."

Godfrey pursed his lips in thought. "Kulish's, I suspect. If there is a Kulish faction. Outside the government, there's too little visible organization to know. We can evaluate Pavlenko for you pretty well right now, but beyond that, there's no faction we can identify. Unless it's the fugitive KGB, and we have no idea of who's in charge. Probably no one, really."

Haugen nodded. "Play with it," he said. "See what you can come up with." He turned to the Secretary of State. "Any objection to Godfrey doing it instead of some of your people?"

Coulter looked as if something tasted bad. "No. If you want him to do it, that's all right with me."

Haugen's eyes lingered on Coulter for just a second before he turned back to Godfrey. "It's yours then. Do the best you can for me."

The president got up from his chair more slowly than usual. "Unless someone has something they have to say to the council as a whole, this meeting is adjourned. As far as I know now, we won't get together again until our next regularly scheduled meeting."

He stood by the door shaking hands with the others as they left. Including Blackburn. Flynn was last. "Steve," Haugen said, "let's go to my office. Okay?"

"Certainly, Mr. President. Arne."

Together they walked to the Oval Office, where Haugen poured coffee for them both before he sat down.

"What did you think of the NSC meeting?" he asked.

Flynn looked soberly at him. "I—felt out of place."

"I'm not surprised. That was Blackburn's intention."

"Maybe he was simply worried about security, as he said."

The president looked reflective. "No," he said slowly, "I'm pretty sure we can rule that out."

"Why do you think so?"

"When we clashed, our eyes met. And from what I saw there, I'd say that Dr. Blackburn is psychotic."

Flynn stared.

"That's a subjective evaluation of course," the president went on. "But meanwhile, I don't want a psychotic heading up the CIA. Or the OSS; he's slated to go to it when it's born next week."

"Maybe what you saw was fear," Flynn said. "You looked truly angry, you know. If I'd been Dr. Blackburn and you'd looked at me like that, I'd have been frightened."

"Ah-h," Haugen said, "I'm a pussycat." He grinned then, surprising the Jesuit. "I used to love a fight when I was a kid, did you know that? Not that I fought a lot, probably not more than once a month, but I loved it when I did. I hardly ever fought mad; that may have been part of why I enjoyed it. Usually I fought someone else that liked to fight. Someone would challenge, or some other guys would set it up, maybe with a prize, and we'd go at it."

He fingered his long-ago broken nose. "I kind of outgrew it, I guess. When I went to college, I sort of got out of the habit. It just wasn't done there, not like up home in Koochiching County, or in bars in the airborne. And I never got back into it again." He cocked an eye at Flynn. "Did you fight as a schoolboy?"

Flynn smiled ruefully. "I've probably had five fights in my whole life. Fights just seldom came my way." He grinned then. "I won one of them, though. My last one, with a boy named Emilio Peccioli. We were in the tenth grade. Sister Mary Theresa was really disillusioned with me."

"So you know how much fun it can be." The grin teased. Then, suddenly businesslike, the president buzzed Martinelli. "Jeanne, get me the FBI—Director Dirksma. Have him call me back on a security line."

Flynn's eyebrows rose. Haugen disconnected.

"I'm going to have Dirksma investigate Blackburn," Haugen said. "If I'm right, and I'm sure I am, we need him put away."

It seemed unreal to Flynn. There'd been no evidence; only something Arne thought he'd seen in the man's eyes. "And if you're not right?"

"I'll be very surprised."

"Well," Flynn said, "the investigation should settle the matter, shouldn't it?"

"It certainly seems like it." The president sipped his coffee. "Want to bet?"

"Bet? About Blackburn?" The priest looked quizzically at the septuagenarian president. Arne Haugen could be whimsical, almost boyish, despite his age and situation. "How much?" Flynn asked.

"Pushups. I'll bet you—" He eyed the priest. "You're pretty tall; it's a long way from your feet to your shoulders. Ten should be enough. I'll bet you ten pushups."

"You're on! Ten pushups!"

***

That night, before his shower, Father Stephen Joseph Flynn lay down on his stomach and did pushups. To his surprise, he actually did ten, though only by resting for a moment on his stomach after each one.

Ah well, he thought, Arne won't give you a bad time about it. He's not the type.

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