Order of Battle (Command and Control Book 3), page 25
“What happened?” Luchnik’s voice barely rose above a whisper, but in the stillness of the room, he might as well have shouted.
Yakov’s upright shock of thick gray hair was greasy and dented by his uniform cap. His face seemed to have succumbed to gravity. The bags under his eyes dragged down his lower eyelids, his jowls swung loosely when he turned his head to meet his president’s gaze.
“Sir, I—”
“Stand when you address me!” Luchnik shouted. His fingers clenched in a spasm of rage. He wanted to leap over the table and beat Yakov’s face in with his bare hands. This fucking moron might have ruined everything.
Yakov recoiled, then shot upright into a posture of rigid attention. His chair scraped back, a wailing noise that echoed in the cavernous room.
“Tell. Me. What. Happened,” Luchnik said.
“The armored advance in the Suwalki Gap was stopped,” Yakov said.
Luchnik felt the rage creeping up his spine like a parasite, each vertebra tingling with heat as he fought for control.
“How?” he said.
“The Poles sent—”
“The Poles?” Luchnik interrupted. He had half expected resistance from the Lithuanians, but the Poles?
Even the weather was in their favor, Luchnik thought. NATO airpower was all but grounded by the thick clouds over the Suwalki Gap last night.
Yakov looked at him expectantly, and Luchnik realized his mind had drifted. He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.
“Continue,” he barked at the Defense Minister.
“The 1st Warsaw Armoured Brigade was encamped outside Suwalki, Mr. President,” Yakov said. “When our forces crossed into Lithuania, so did the Poles. They attacked the lead Battalion Tactical Group from the 12th Guards Tank Regiment along the southern axis of advance.” He swallowed, looked as if he might be sick. “Many units were lost, sir.”
“And?” Luchnik pressed.
Yakov cleared his throat. “Polish forces intercepted the lead columns from the 13th Guards Tank Regiment along the A16 highway. We suffered losses, sir. The advance was halted. At that point, the Lithuanian Army joined forces with the Poles, and our forces withdrew to defensive positions. We will make a breakthrough, Mr. President. I am confident of that.”
Luchnik fell back in his chair, feeling winded, as if he’d just been punched in the gut. His mind whirled. Nothing made sense.
“What was the size of the Polish force?” he asked.
“A tank battalion, sir.” Yakov answered tentatively, like he didn’t understand the question.
“Yes, I understand the Polish tank battalion attacked the southern advance,” Luchnik snapped. “But who attacked the northern advance?”
Yakov blinked. “It was the same tank battalion, Mr. President.”
Luchnik felt like the floor had opened up beneath him. “The same unit?”
“Yes, sir. What remained of the Polish tank battalion after the first engagement continued north and set up an ambush along the A16 highway.”
“Defense Minister Yakov, how many tanks were in the southern flanking force?”
“A regiment’s worth, Mr. President. Mostly T-90 and T-72s, with supporting infantry fighting vehicles and armored personnel carriers. It was the 12th Guards Tank Regiment.”
“And they were all destroyed by the Poles?” Luchnik asked.
Yakov shifted on his feet. “Yes, Mr. President, the Poles used terrain features to box in our forces. And then they attacked.”
“What were the Polish losses?”
Yakov licked his lips. “Unknown, sir.”
Luchnik leaned forward. “You’re telling me that what remained of the Polish tank battalion continued north to meet the 13th Guards’ advance?”
Even a plodding thinker like Yakov could see the endpoint of this line of questioning. “Yes, Mr. President.”
“And the remainder of the Polish tank battalion met and stopped the advance of our forces on the A16 highway?”
Yakov swallowed. “Yes, sir. With reinforcements from the Lithuanian Army.”
“How many tanks are in a Polish tank battalion, Defense Minister Yakov?”
“Fifty-eight, sir.”
“And how many Russian tanks did this Polish tank battalion destroy, Yakov?” Despite his best efforts, Luchnik heard his voice sliding up the register.
“Total losses were fifty-two destroyed and another fifteen damaged to the point they were abandoned.”
Luchnik’s collar suddenly felt too tight. A single battalion of Polish tanks had stopped his army cold.
“It’s worse than that, Mr. President,” Federov said.
Luchnik startled, then turned to focus on the man sitting to his left. With his intense focus on Yakov, he’d almost forgotten the rest of the cabinet was still in the room. The President barked out a laugh.
“Enlighten me, Vladimir,” he said. “How could this utter shitpile of incompetence be worse?”
“During the night, we lost secure communications with the military command in Kaliningrad. If we had been able to attack the Poles from the rear, we might have been successful in our bid to secure the Suwalki Corridor.”
“How could that happen?” Luchnik asked.
Yakov started to answer, but Federov cut him off. “We’re still investigating. When Defense Minister Yakov tried to bring Kaliningrad assets to bear, there was no way for the Kaliningrad command to authenticate his orders. General Vasilenko refused to accept the orders.”
The feeling of being punched returned. “Is this true, Yakov?”
“Yes, Mr. President.” The Defense Minister’s voice trembled with emotion.
“Where is General Vasilenko?” Luchnik demanded.
Federov cast a sidelong glance at Yakov. “He’s gone into hiding, Mr. President.”
“Hiding…?” Luchnik’s mind snapped into focus. Someone was working against his plan, against him. This was a plot against him. By his military.
“Defense Minister Yakov,” Luchnik said.
“Sir!” Yakov’s posture was ramrod straight, eyes forward.
“You are relieved of your duties,” Luchnik said, his tone acid. He turned his attention down the row of faces. “Admiral Sokolov.”
Nikolay stood at attention. “Yes, Mr. President.”
“Congratulations, Admiral.” Luchnik found it hard to keep the pride out of his voice. “You are the new Minister of Defense for the Russian Federation.”
Nikolay looked down the long table at his uncle. His eyes were so much like his mother’s…
This is sooner than I’d planned, Luchnik thought, but he’s ready. Thanks to Federov. It’s better this way. If there was a plot against him in the military, Nikolay would put a swift end to it.
There was still hope for his grand dream of a New Russian Empire.
“Your first order of business is to take Viktor Yakov into custody. He will be tried by a military court.” Luchnik rose from his chair. His body tingled with anger, like insects crawling across his skin. He needed to move, so he paced.
“Your second order is to find General Vasilenko and kill him. Then kill his wife and his children. If he has a dog, kill the dog. If the child has a fucking hamster for a pet, then kill that, too. I want everyone to know what happens if you disobey a direct order from the President of the Russian Federation.”
Luchnik stopped behind Yakov’s quivering form. Sweat slickened the back of the man’s neck, and he breathed in short, hard gasps.
“Yes, sir,” Nikolay replied. He nodded toward Director Kulukov, who immediately motioned to the Rosgvardiya security man at the door. The Russian national guardsman took Yakov into custody. The rest of the cabinet looked away as their colleague left in disgrace.
Luchnik watched the other men at the table. Were there others against him?
No, he decided. Either by incompetence or by action, Yakov had blown their opportunity to effect a lightning strike into the Suwalki Gap, but he was gone now. It was up to the rest of them to get the plan—his plan—back on track.
He caught Nikolay’s eye and motioned for him to take Yakov’s vacant chair. Eyes followed the young admiral as he moved to the seat next to Federov. Nearer to the seat of power. Closer to his uncle. Luchnik felt a surge of fatherly pride in his young protégé.
No one spoke, no one looked at their president. Luchnik smiled to himself. They were all afraid.
“Now,” he said into the silence. “How do we unfuck this situation?”
“Mr. President,” Irimov said, his tone grave. “We have made great territorial gains in the Ukraine, but in Lithuania, the element of surprise is lost. NATO will fight back.”
Luchnik watched his Foreign Minister with slitted eyes. This man was his oldest adviser, a friend of sorts. He was always the voice of reason, but also first to defend his country to a hostile world. Besides, it took guts to speak up after seeing Yakov led off to certain death.
“Continue, Sergey.”
Irimov cleared his throat. “Mr. President, let us take advantage of NATO’s confusion and consolidate our gains in the Ukraine.”
“Wise counsel, Mr. Foreign Minister. What about the Suwalki Gap?”
“Mr. President.” Irimov’s voice took on a note of pleading. “The plan was sound, but we failed to execute. To stay in Lithuania is to invite a war with NATO. We’ve been to that place before, sir, and only narrowly survived.”
“So, what is your recommendation, Foreign Minister?”
“I recommend we withdraw, sir.”
Luchnik ran his eyes down the table. “What about the rest of you? You want to give up when we are so close to victory?”
They said nothing, but their eyes gave them away.
Cowards, he thought. Small men with small minds who failed to see the brilliance of his plan. The New Russian Empire was within his grasp. Luchnik could feel it.
He caught Nikolay staring at him. The younger man had a different look in his eye than the others. They were afraid, but he was…Luchnik tried to identify the emotion his nephew’s eyes conveyed.
Hope? Ambition? Pride? Yes, Luchnik thought. Pride. He was proud of his surrogate father for having the guts and the vision to change the world.
“No,” Luchnik said out loud. “We will not withdraw from the Suwalki Gap. I took an oath to protect my country, and only I can do that now. We will not back down. NATO will yield.”
“Mr. President,” Nikolay said, “I recommend we put the forces on the borders of Latvia and Estonia on high alert.”
Luchnik nodded at his nephew, pride forming a lump in his throat. Between the two of them, they would resurrect the Russian Empire.
“Make it so, Defense Minister.”
39
Sterling, Virginia
“Truce.” Abby raised her crystal tumbler.
“Truce,” Dylan echoed. He extended his own glass across the desk, and they touched rims. Their eyes met.
Can I trust you? Abby thought. She sipped her drink, a Bowman single-barrel bourbon, studying Dylan over the rim of her glass.
Do I have another option? she wondered. It was going to take friends in high places to keep her company safe from the most powerful man in the world. If anything, the Russian move in Lithuania had only increased Serrano’s desire to expand operations in Ukraine.
Abby rolled the liquid across her palate, enjoying the complex flavors. Toffee, dried fruit, nuts. She felt the tension in her shoulders melting.
“I never pegged you for a bourbon gal,” Dylan said.
“Always and forever.” Abby took another sip, knowing she was just putting off the hard conversation. Had he lied to her again to keep her quiet during the meeting at the White House, or did he actually have a plan to get her company out of Ukraine?
Dylan held up his empty glass. “I saw some really fine scotch over there. Do you mind?”
“Help yourself.”
She watched him rise from the chair and head to the bar. Seeing him move reminded her why she’d been attracted to him in the first place. It was his confidence, she decided. Even now, while she fretted about their upcoming confrontation, he was able to act as if this was just a drink between friends.
Dylan returned to his chair and crossed his legs. He sipped the scotch and leaned his head back, eyes closed. “Now, that is a drink. I didn’t know you could buy Benromach 35 in the US.”
“You can’t,” Abby said. “We bought it in Scotland.”
“We…?” Dylan frowned. He looked at the glass. “This is your husband’s whisky. Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Abby waved. “Don’t be. I think scotch tastes like it was aged in a leather boot. I only keep it for sentimental reasons.”
Her eyes drifted to the framed picture on her desk. Abby, Joe, and Manson crowded into the frame. Wool hats and flannel shirts. Younger, smiling. Happier times.
Where was that picture taken? she thought, then recalled the hunting trip in Montana, when Manson’s girlfriend went to stay in a hotel because the three of them spent all day in the woods.
“Tell me about him,” Dylan said. “I see you smiling. You must have been happy together.”
“We were.” Abby sat up in her chair and set her drink aside. “But that’s not why we’re here, is it? This afternoon, you told me you had a plan to get my company out of Ukraine. You asked me to trust you.”
“I did.” Dylan placed his drink on the edge of her desktop. “Thank you for that.”
“Well?” Abby spread her hands.
“We need to do this in stages,” he said. “Put someone you can trust in charge of the operations in Ukraine, and we’ll slowly walk back the missions in the region.”
“Okay,” Abby said. “I hope there’s more to your plan than a slow retreat.”
“There is.” Dylan leaned forward, elbows on knees. “While the Lithuanian situation has everyone’s attention, I’m going to push through a change in the rules of engagement for Ukraine. By the time we get Skelly out of the field, the new ROE for Sentinel Holdings will limit operations to west of the Dnieper River.”
“You think the Russians are going to stop their advance at the river,” Abby said.
Dylan nodded. “The Russians have been messing around in eastern Ukraine for fifteen years. I think this big push was all a deception to draw in Poland and NATO. The real prize was always the Suwalki Gap.”
“You can get the ROE changed?”
“The Director will support me,” Dylan said. “The intel shows a change in the status quo. Unless NATO is willing to cross the Dnieper River and remove them, eastern Ukraine is now part of Russia. Nobody has that kind of appetite.”
Abby picked up her glass again. That could work. In fact, it was the perfect insider move. Sentinel Holdings was contracted by the CIA. If the CIA gave them a different mission, there was nothing to do but follow orders.
“I like it,” she said.
Dylan picked up his own glass. “I thought you might.” He met her gaze across the desk. “How about I buy you dinner? Let’s start over, Aberdeen Cromwell.”
Not a good idea, Abby, she thought.
Her phone pinged with an incoming alert from Mama. Abby frowned at the screen, then sat up and pulled her laptop from her purse.
“Problem?” Dylan asked.
“Not sure,” Abby replied. “I had Josh set up an alert so I’d be notified every time Manson ran operational scenarios through Mama. I just got a ping.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s two a.m. in Ukraine.”
Abby pinched her lip as she scanned the operational details. She stopped as soon as she saw the weaponry selected. “We have a problem.”
Dylan put down his drink and came around to her side of the desk. When he leaned over her shoulder to see the small laptop screen, she felt his breath paint her cheek.
“What’s a K-10?” Dylan asked.
“It’s a prototype weapon. Not field tested, and what he’s targeting goes against everything we just talked about.”
“We have to stop him,” Dylan said.
Abby logged in to the Sentinel secure VTC program and dialed the Ukraine operations center. Peter, the same tech they had met on their last trip, answered.
“Ops,” he answered automatically, his attention directed away from the screen. He turned his head and saw Abby. “Uh, hello, Abby. Did you know that you dialed in on the main line?”
“Yes, Peter,” Abby replied, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in her tone. “I wanted to make sure my call was answered promptly. Let me speak to Manson. Now.”
Peter looked off screen, nodded. “Um, sure.”
The screen changed stations, but instead of Manson Skelly, it showed the face of David Landersmann. He had a broad smile plastered across his face. “Abby, hi. I understand you’re looking for the boss. He’s not here—”
“Cut the shit, Landersmann,” Abby snapped. “I know he’s there because he just logged in to Mama’s ops planning program. The only secure line in the whole country with enough bandwidth is in that building.”
“Abby—”
“If I’m not speaking to Manson in the next three seconds, I will stop your paycheck. You may think Manson can prevent me from firing you, but unless you like working for free, you’d better start pushing buttons.”
Landersmann’s lip curled in disgust, but he tapped the keyboard.
Manson Skelly had gone full mountain man. His dark hair was long and swept back from his forehead. She saw his full beard was shot with silver.
We’re all getting older, she thought, but not necessarily wiser.
“Abby,” Manson said, “I was just about to call you.”
“Really.”
“Absolutely. No secrets, remember?”
“Enough, Manson.” She could feel her blood pressure rising, and she fought for control. Why did she let this idiot push her buttons like this? “I’ve seen the mission you were running through Mama, and there’s no way that’s happening.”
“Abby,” Skelly said in mock surprise, “are you spying on me?”
“Manson, I saw what you were planning. It’s outside the scope of the ROE. It’s illegal.”
