Murin rose from his chair to greet Drygin. “Congratulations on your promotion to major general.” He poured two glasses of vodka.
“Thank you. This comes as a surprise.”
“It’s well deserved. We’ll need a replacement for the commander of KGB Border Troops in Novosibirsk.” He did not mention Fierko. Drygin left the subject untouched.
Murin turned on a television. “This report might interest you.”
Drygin nodded absently as the screen blinked on. Two reporters faced into the camera. Drygin read the English subscripts.
“Our guest this evening is Tony Collins, investigative reporter for the Washington Herald.” The female news anchor turned to face Collins. “You scooped us all. That was quite a headline.” She held up a copy of the current edition. “MAJOR SHAKEUP IN SOVIET UNION.”
“This article is incredible. You talk of purging key figures, including the commanding general of the KGB Border Troops and the ambassador to Cuba. Even the Soviet Army’s top commander was replaced by…” She looked at her notes. “…Colonel General Kutuzov, and he will be promoted to the highest rank.” She stopped and looked at him. “How did you get this story?”
Collins leaned back with a wan smile. “We have good people.”
The news anchor pressed on. “A few days ago, your articles about Rasputin seemed like human-interest stories, so their appearance on the front pages of Soviet newspapers caused a sensation. Did they have anything to do with today’s news?”
Collins grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Ah, Rasputin. Who knew what chaos an obscure Siberian mystic would unleash on humanity?” His grin disappeared. “Lucky for us, tough people risk life and limb to keep the rest of us safe.” He looked steadily into the camera. “We owe you our thanks.”
The news anchor picked up again. “In other Soviet news, Russian Orthodox Church leaders celebrated Mr. Gorbachev’s loosening of religious freedoms; and Moscow hailed the goodwill flight across Europe of its new Antonov 225 Mriya heavy-lift cargo jet as a success. All that amidst rumors of a nuclear scare. Stay tuned.”
Murin turned off the television. “What did you think of that?”
Drygin swirled his drink while taking time to formulate a response. “It’s difficult to know what to think. What did you think?”
Murin peered at him over his glasses. “You’re always an enigma,” he said. He swirled his drink. “As a dry run, the entire exercise was worthwhile. We learned many lessons.”
“A dry run?” Drygin’s face showed rare astonishment.
Murin nodded. “The old days are gone. A coup in today’s Soviet Union requires a dress rehearsal. It’s such a complex operation. Friends and foes have to be identified, authorities compromised, nuclear protocols tested, world reaction gauged…”
“Do you mean that Yermolov—”
Murin scoffed. “He was never in the cards. Who was going to listen to a man who claimed joint ancestry of both the last tsar and that pop star mystic?” His disdain showed. “To run a superpower? Besides, he lived outside the country all those years. Who could trust him? I needed you here to arrest him when he tried to execute the coup.”
Drygin hid his astonishment. “And then who would have been the general secretary?”
Murin smiled inscrutably. “I guess we’ll never know.”
Drygin swirled his drink slowly as he contemplated. “What about the nuclear device? How did Yermolov get it? If Atcho had not had that NukeX—”
“Ah, Atcho,” Murin muttered. “We keep underestimating that man. He gave Yermolov a run for his money, and he nearly cost us an airplane.” He scanned Drygin’s puzzled face. “We don’t know how Yermolov got the bomb.”
Drygin stared. “We don’t know? Do we have any idea at all?”
Murin shook his head. “No,” he said grimly. “That’s an open question and maybe an open danger. We’re still working on it.”
“What was Yermolov going to do with it?”
“Blackmail, I’m sure. As the Americans say, it was his ace in the hole against me. I have to admit, I didn’t see it coming.”
“What about the ancestry documents. Were they real?”
Murin shrugged. “He always had them. I don’t know where he got them. He left them for me to deliver if he ever needed to escape.”
Drygin contemplated that. “So, is it possible that they were real?”
“I suppose anything is possible.”
Drygin let that sink in, and then asked his next question cautiously. “Will Gorbachev retaliate against you?”
Murin arched his eyebrows. “I’m sure he received reports that I was involved,” he said dryly. “He has no way to confirm them. The fact that he didn’t inform me that Yermolov was on the Mriya with the bomb is significant. Fierko gave a full confession without implicating anyone above himself. He knows he would be better off dead than giving me up. Besides, he expects me to rescue him. Jeloudov too.
“If Gorbachev comes after me, his precious election will be out the window.” He squinted at Drygin. “Never rule out the unthinkable, that he knew about the conspiracy from the start. What better way to lure a megalomaniac into a trap than open the doors for his ambition?”
Drygin’s expression showed atypical puzzlement. “Are we still talking about Gorbachev?”
Murin chuckled. He studied Drygin’s discomfiture. “The real benefit was identifying Yermolov’s support. Otherwise, we could have taken him in Cuba.
“In any event, elevating Kutuzov to command the army will insulate both of us. No one will take on both the KGB and the Soviet military at the same time. Gorbachev was weakened by the situation, and won’t dare question Kutuzov. And, the Politburo affirmed my innocence. Having friends on the inside always helps.” He took another swallow of his drink. “But, you can never know for sure what the future holds.” His tone was one of finality, as if shelving the subject. He smiled broadly and held up an outstretched hand.
Drygin kept his seat. “Sir, just two more questions?”
Murin looked impatient, but retracted his hand. “Just two.”
“What about my men? What will happen to them?”
Murin stared at him without expression. “Ah, yes. Your men.” He swirled his drink. “They were very loyal to you, weren’t they?” Without waiting for an answer, he sniffed and replied, “No worries about them. They will be disbanded and returned to regular units. What’s your other question?”
Drygin chose not to press the issue, and changed to his last subject. “Would Yermolov’s tenets work: restoring military strength, clamping down on political dissent, and loosening economic freedom?”
To Drygin’s surprise, Murin threw his head back and laughed, almost uncontrollably. “Ha, ha! That was the funniest part of the whole episode.” He took a breath to control his mirth. “Yermolov and I dreamed those up in a bar one night when we were both drunk.” Still red-faced from laughing, he faced Drygin. “No one in his right mind would believe those ‘tenets.’” He spat out the word. “Only a certain kind of man could make them work.” He lifted his glass in the air. “We’d need another Rasputin!”
Drygin took in Murin’s response without emotion. Then he rose, and the two men shook hands. “Now, General,” Murin said, “it’s time for you to come out of deep cover.”
Drygin looked at him sharply. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know very well what I mean. You’ve operated in the shadows long enough. As of this moment, you will take on your own name, Comrade Vladimir Putin.”