The tanks passed and Sokolov watched them recede, reveling in the roar of their motors and the scent of diesel. No human endeavor could ever compare in grandeur to that of war. Nothing else existed that could generate such focus, ambition, and industriousness. Displays of courage and cowardice, brutality and mercy, loyalty and treachery all gained an intensity that didn’t exist in any other arena.
Every scenario they’d run—even the worst-case ones—suggested that NATO would be powerless to stop an invasion of the Baltics. Initial victory would be secured within a few days, with approximately two more months to destroy any remaining organized resistance. After that, it would just be a matter of controlling the borders and dealing with the occasional isolated insurgents.
More important than putting down insurgents, though, would be the propaganda surge designed to convince the world that NATO wasn’t just ineffective but also a provocation that sabotaged any hope of peace. The American people were particularly susceptible to this message. Secure in their distant land, they saw the organization as nothing but a financial drain and creeping threat to their sovereignty.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sokolov saw a jeep speeding toward him. It skidded to a stop some ten meters away and a man in the uniform of a colonel leapt out. He rushed forward, nearly falling in his zeal.
“Please refrain from saluting me, Colonel.”
“Or course, sir,” he said, coming alongside. “Did your vehicle bog down in the mud? Why didn’t you call? I was just—”
“Colonel. Be silent.”
He did as he was told, scanning the empty field in an attempt to discover what had so captivated Russia’s supreme commander.
“Are the exercises going well?” Sokolov asked finally.
“Yes, sir. We’ve received significant resources from Ukraine and have integrated the men and equipment into our forces.”
“Then they’re combat ready?”
The colonel jerked a bit straighter at the question. “Absolutely, ready. If you’re anticipating a confrontation in Ukraine, sir, there are no better men in the Russian army.”
“I’m not expecting a confrontation in Ukraine.” Sokolov glanced over at the man and was pleased to see a hint of disappointment. “No. Instead, you will lead a full-scale invasion of Latvia.”
The expression of disappointment turned to one of shock. “Sir?”
“Your counterparts will be carrying out similar attacks on Estonia and Lithuania.”
The man looked nervously toward the Latvian border, hidden by distance and mist. “May I ask our end goal, sir?”
It was a reasonable question from a man who had grown up in a time where militaries were used more for gaining political advantage than seizing territory.
“Nothing less than the permanent reintegration of the Baltics into Mother Russia and the destruction of the Western alliance.”
CHAPTER 33
RIGA
LATVIA
A YOUNG man with a ponytail appeared at the end of the hallway, sprinting in their direction. Rapp stepped aside to let him pass and then watched him disappear into the gloom. “They look a little panicked.”
He and Coleman were walking down a stone passageway that ran across the back of an ancient building in central Riga. Many years ago, it had housed the country’s main phone exchange, but more recently it had been taken over by popular shops and restaurants. The modernized parts of the structure were closed for the night but the forgotten sections behind and below had been transformed into one of the many autonomous command centers springing up throughout the country.
“It’s a little hectic right now, but not as bad as it looks. The Baltic countries have been worried about a Russian invasion since the day they gained their independence. I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised at how well prepared they are.”
Footsteps became audible from behind and again Rapp moved aside. This time they were passed by a woman who, despite carrying what looked like a computer from the eighties, wasn’t much slower than her colleague.
“Really? Because it looks like a clusterfuck to me.”
“Always the cynic,” Coleman said. “You see panic, I see hustle.”
Coleman’s good cheer was understandable, but a little irritating given the circumstances. His body was working again and he was about to see a battle plan his company had spent years developing go into action. But most of all, he was about to—as he was fond of putting it—go toe to toe with the Russkies. Not everyone’s idea of a good time, but for a former SEAL and military history buff, it was a dream come true.
“It’s pretty incredible what’s been accomplished here, Mitch. They’ve spent hundreds of millions of dollars and managed to keep it all off Krupin’s radar. They’ve also uncovered a lot of Russian malware on their military and civilian systems—particularly the power grid and communications. Instead of diplomatic protests, though, they’ve kept it under their hat and written code that can wipe it out at the touch of a button. It’s made the Russians lazy. If they think they’ve got good penetration, they don’t bother upgrading.”
“Wars aren’t won with computers, Scott.”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg. The government’s done a good job of convincing people to keep emergency stores of food, water, and fuel. Also, the way this country’s modernized, most urban dwellers still have close relatives living in rural areas. Riga’s the largest city in the Baltics, but it only has about half million residents. They can empty the city in less than twenty-four hours, which will cut down on civilian casualties and throw a wrench in Krupin’s propaganda machine. Saying that Latvia’s a threat that has to be dealt with and then driving your tanks into an empty city won’t play well on TV. Even Russian TV.”
“Weapons?”
“Caches all over the country in addition to what the military will take with them when they scatter. And we took a lesson from the Afghans during their fight with the Russians. Do you remember the Mujahideen’s favorite saying?”
“We’re not afraid of Russians. We’re afraid of Russian helicopters.”
“Exactly. The Baltics have spent a huge amount of money on bleeding-edge mobile surface-to-air missile systems and spread them out all over the country. This stuff’s a long way from the hand held crap the Afghans used. It’s an autonomous, artificially intelligent system that can identify and take out even stealth-equipped aircraft. Best part? iPhone compatible. Seriously.”
“Yeah, but every fight eventually gets bloody. How are things going to go when they’ve got to look the Russian army in the eye?”
“They’re good fighters and their knowledge of the terrain is going to give them a serious advantage. So will their motivation. Small raids by small teams. In and out. Sustainable for the long haul. It won’t take long for the average Russian soldier to wonder why the hell he’s in Latvia waiting to get picked off by a sniper or blown apart by a mine.”
Rapp nodded. The strategy Coleman had helped the Baltics design was typically smart and streamlined. But in the face of war, even the most perfect plans tended to go to hell. When the Russians would threaten Europe with nukes and the locals would fall apart when Sokolov started executing, starving, and freezing the civilian population. The truth was that the era of wars between modern powers was over. No matter how they were carried out, everyone lost. Everyone but Maxim Krupin.
They turned the corner and found themselves at a dead end.
“Are you impressed yet?” Coleman said as the stone wall in front of them began to slide to the side. “I love this shit. The Addams Family meets Get Smart.”