“Of course,” Sokolov said, relieved to see the reemergence of the man he’d known for so long. “The first order of business is your treatment. Your reaction to the chemotherapy notwithstanding, we still need to start radiation and other complementary therapies immediately. It could exacerbate your discomfort, but it’d be unwise to wait. In the meantime, we’ll be exploring unconventional therapies and techniques to make a possible future surgery as advantageous as possible.”
“Surgery and unconventional therapies,” Krupin repeated in a voice that had lost the force it once had. “I wonder if your scheming has the power to change anything, Andrei. If I don’t submit to these treatments, I die. If I allow them to be performed I’ll be weakened to the point that my enemies will fall on me like a pack of rabid dogs.”
It was a realistic analysis. Loyalty at the Kremlin was directly correlated to power and constantly realigning with every perceived shift in it.
Absent the trappings of democracy or royal blood to legitimize succession, Russia’s next ruler might be ordained in a violent and lengthy power struggle. Anyone with designs on Krupin’s crown would have begun quietly laying the groundwork some time ago. They would not only be looking for opportunity, they would be in a position to seize it.
“It will be a difficult time,” Sokolov admitted.
Krupin met his gaze for a moment before turning away. Normally, he’d be calculating every move, every consequence. Prioritizing actions, identifying threats, and formulating strategies. None of those things read in his eyes, though. The only thing visible was exhaustion combined with something Sokolov had never seen in the man before. Fear.
“I assume you have a recommendation?” Krupin asked finally.
“I do, sir.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“Your violent reaction to the chemotherapy and the potential for surgery in the future is going to degrade your ability to personally interact with the people, media, and government officials. In light of that, we need a distraction. Something that will pull the country together and make you look strong, among other things.”
“You’re speaking of Ukraine.”
Sokolov shook his head. “A few days ago, I would have been. But your treatment is going to be much longer and more debilitating than we’d anticipated. I fear that a move in Ukraine wouldn’t be sufficient to keep your enemies at bay.”
He used the remote to replace the images of Krupin in the wilderness with a map of their country’s western border. Current Russian troop concentrations were shown on the borders of Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania where extensive exercises were taking place. Russia’s military presence in southern Ukraine and Crimea was also depicted, including updates on their increasing concentration at the northern edge of the territory they controlled.
Krupin pointed with a shaking finger. “We’ve continued to move troops to Ukraine in a way that’s obvious to the West. We’ve also stepped up the propaganda campaign aimed at convincing the ethnic Russian community that they’re the subject of organized violence and discrimination. The hope is that if we move to take control of the rest of the country they’ll join us. More importantly, though, it would give us a pretense for the invasion like in Crimea. We could say to the international community that military action was forced on us to protect our Russian brothers.”
“I’ve familiarized myself with your preparations and I think victory is all but assured,” Sokolov said. “Your hackers have excellent penetration into Ukraine’s systems and would be able to shut down a significant portion of their communications and power grid. Resistance would likely be light and the West has only a token contingent of advisors there right now.”
“And yet you sound unimpressed,” Krupin said.
“Certainly if the alternative is Ukraine joining NATO, then this would be a reasonable course of action. Even a membership vote would be a huge humiliation. I fear that your enemies would use it against you and that in your current condition they could inflict damage.”
“Then we should attack now, yes? Move north, secure the country and set up Iskander missile batteries. Make it clear that we consider Ukraine Russian territory and that any move to take it back will be met with nuclear retaliation against Western Europe.”
Sokolov examined the map, examining every detail in the ensuing silence. Finally, he turned back to the ailing politician. “My fear is that it would only be a glancing blow, sir. This isn’t a defeat of NATO—Ukraine isn’t a member. What it may accomplish, though, is to pull Western Europe together against a shared threat. Worse, it could cause America to renew its wavering commitment to the alliance. Finally, it seems a foregone conclusion that the West would increase their economic sanctions, further harming our economy and further turning away Russia’s youth.”
Krupin seemed a bit confused, having counted on Sokolov above all people to support military action. He swung his feet off the bed and walked unsteadily across the room, putting on a bathrobe and lowering himself into a chair along the far wall.
“You’ve become timid, Andrei. Perhaps I should have expected it. So many years in that dacha, away from Moscow and your military post. Have I made a mistake in choosing you for this position?”
“You misunderstand me, Mr. President.”
“Do I?”
Sokolov widened the map view to include Poland and parts of Western Europe. “As I said, prior to knowing the full ramifications of your illness, the Ukraine gambit might have been a workable strategy. Now, though, I think we need to consider something more bold.”
“More bold?” Krupin said, clearly relieved to find that the head of his military wasn’t recommending retreat before the battle had even begun. “Explain.”
“I believe that we find ourselves in a very rare position, Maxim. We’re in the right place at the right time in history with the right tools at hand.”
“To do what?”
“To annihilate NATO.”
Krupin didn’t respond, so he continued. “We’ve already spoken of this. The French are focused on internal terrorism, but they’ll turn outward again when they get it under control. The British are off balance now because of Brexit, but it’s inevitable that the divisions will heal and they’ll remain aligned closely with Europe. Germany continues to be reluctant to project power but their fear of their own history is fading with the new generation and there are indications that they’re becoming more amenable to the expansion of their military. Turkey, NATO’s second largest army, is distracted by Syria and the Kurds, as well as its ongoing transformation into a dictatorship. And, finally, the United States has turned inward and is consumed with fighting over political divisions we helped create but that won’t last.”
The Russian president just stared at him. The sound of the antique clock in the corner seemed impossibly loud as the seconds ticked by. Sokolov hadn’t mentioned the other factor in their favor—Krupin’s cancer. While he’d been a bold and aggressive leader who had strained against international norms, his instinct for self-preservation had demanded that he stay within them. Was that still the case? Sokolov had just described an environment that could lead either to a quick and decisive victory over the West or to World War III. Krupin would be well within his purview to have him dragged outside and shot.
He didn’t, though. Instead, his eyes moved to the map on the wall. “I’m still listening.”
Sokolov forced himself to remain calm as the weight of the moment became unbearable. “I propose that we use the troop buildup in Ukraine as a feint and attack NATO in the Baltic states.”
“You’re suggesting a simultaneous attack on Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia?”
“We have a substantial number of well-drilled troops doing exercises on their borders. With some quiet reinforcement, we’d have a sufficient force to overrun all three countries before NATO could react.”
“We’d be at war with America and the whole of Europe,” Krupin said, sounding a bit awed at the prospect of it.