The Oracle Code

16



Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation

Lubyanka Square

Moscow, Russian Federation

February 14, 2013

Seated at his desk, General Anton Cherkshan watched the live broadcast of President Nevsky in front of Lenin’s Tomb. A large crowd had gathered in Red Square, and Cherkshan waited anxiously for some sort of violence or terrorist attack to break out.

He had wanted to be at the speech, but Nevsky had forbidden it. None of the military leaders were present. Nevsky had planned this to be a solo effort, a way to implore the Russian people to embrace his plans for the prosperity of their great country.

However, there were snipers in the area, in the buildings surrounding the Tomb that had clear fields of fire into the crowd. Cherkshan knew this because he had signed off on the placement of those men.

Nevsky looked good on the camera, but he didn’t look great. As always, he wore a gray suit, never changing his appearance, always remaining constant.

“My friends, I come here today to face the accusations of the faceless detractors who hide in the shadows and tell you that I am somehow going to be responsible for the downfall of Russian freedom.” Nevsky spoke slowly, allowing his words to reach all who were listening. “They claim that I am stockpiling munitions, that I am planning to make war on the satellite countries that have left our fold.”

Cherkshan had seen the figures reported in the newspapers. Someone inside the Kremlin was talking, and one of his jobs was to find out who it was. The newspapers didn’t have the exact numbers. In fact, they had less than half of them. But the numbers they had printed were enough to worry the people and some of the neighboring countries.

As well as the West. Already the United States had started rattling its saber, but its military—for a change—was financially stressed as well after years of the Middle East involvement and the rising cost of fuel.

The Russian scientists that Nevsky had funded had designed more economical war engines, and Russian oil corporations had found more ways to get to the oil resources within their own country. After all these years of the Cold War, the boot, so to speak, was finally coming back to the other foot. Even the Chinese were feeling the pinch of economic hardship as the spending by their citizens grew out of control.

But the reporters didn’t have access to the figures that Cherkshan did. The actual amount of military buildup was staggering.

Nevsky continued speaking. “My detractors fail to realize that I am simply trying to create business for this country. I am creating jobs for my fellow countrymen at a time when the West is staggered by the failure of their capitalist dreams.” He paused. “I am giving my countrymen jobs, providing a way for them to remain in their houses, and I am reshaping our dream for the future.”

Cheers broke out in the crowd.

“These accusers will tell you that I am going to take away the rights of the people. I say that they have already been taken away. Would any of you have thought that the day would come when you had to stand in line for bread, only to find out it had gone up in price as you had stood there waiting?”

The crowd reacted again.

“I did not. I find this evidence of capitalism ruin to be abhorrent to everything that is Russian. I see young people in our streets who wear American clothing they got through the black markets instead of outlets that are designed to protect our economy. I see men my age wearing expensive suits.” Nevsky pulled on his own jacket. “Do you know what this is, comrades? Russian manufacture. Made by Russian hands. Right here in Mother Russia. This is where my loyalty lies. Not with some seductive vision of a capitalist society like the West.”

The crowd cheered again, but this time, a pocket of the group exploded into violence. Nearly a dozen people were locked in mortal combat before Moscow uniformed policemen pushed their way through to them, stunned them with Tasers, and carried the unconscious men and women from the crowd.

Cherkshan picked up the phone on his desk.

It was answered at once. “Yes, General Cherkshan.”

“There has been an incident at the President’s speech. I want to know the names of the people involved immediately.”

“Yes, General.”

As Cherkshan hung up the phone, he looked at the pictures of his children sitting on his desk. Rodion was employed with the Alga Bank Group, one of the most powerful in the country, and was expecting his second child. Cherkshan was proud of his son.

His daughter, Anna, was something else. While Rodion had been educated in Switzerland, Anna had chosen an American school, the Columbia School of Journalism. If Cherkshan had had his way, his daughter would not have gone to the United States. She had already been too defiant as it was, a victim of the encroaching capitalist ways.

But Katrina had stepped in and insisted. Cherkshan loved his wife and would until the day he died. However, he would also regret sending Anna off to the United States. She was forever lost to him these days.

He preferred to remember her as the small girl he had shared make-believe tea parties with. The one who’d insisted on taking care of him when he was sick or recovering from a bullet wound. That was the daughter he’d been proud to raise.

The one he knew now would have been among those dozen or so protestors carried out by the Moscow Police.

Thankfully, she was at the archeological dig at Herat. Cherkshan had been watching that, as well, because a link to Alexander the Great had come up. Since his promotion to his current position, he’d taken to heart the location of the top five historians who knew about Alexander the Great. All of them were currently digging through mounds of research material.

He turned his attention back to Nevsky.

“I will admit to this buildup, if that’s what my detractors want to call it. But I call it this: a munitions corporation. We are making Russian pistols and rifles that anyone would be proud to own. We’re going to sell them to buyers around the world. Like many other countries in the West, we are going to become munitions suppliers. People want guns. We will provide them. And it will create Russian jobs.”

The crowd cheered again.

After thanking the people for coming, Nevsky departed the podium with his personal security detachment from the Federal Protective Service. The FSO agents were watched over by FSB agents. Cherkshan didn’t feel relieved until the men had Nevsky inside the ZIL limousine provided by the Special Purpose Garage.

A few minutes later, as Cherkshan knew it would, his phone rang. He picked it up and muted the television. “Yes, Mr. President.”

“How do you think the address went?”

“I think it went well. I also think that news services in the West are going to make a lot of the story.”

“Let them. It doesn’t matter. They can’t stop what I am doing even if I were to announce it aloud.”

Cherkshan knew that was true. The United States and NATO, due to the way they had been stretched throughout the Middle East and Africa lately, wouldn’t be ready to go head-to-head in retaliation. The United States had moved a few ships around in the Mediterranean Sea and the Pacific, but that was to be expected. They had to show strength.

However, they weren’t going to pull the trigger.

Using the remote control, Cherkshan flipped through channels, coming to a halt on a CNN feed. The view was of the dig site in Herat. He watched as the camera showed some of the faces in the crowd, looking to see if Anna was there.

“I would like to talk to you about another matter, Mr. President.”

“Of course.”

“The dig at Herat.”

“Yes.”

“It was announced that the tomb has something to do with Alexander the Great.”

“So I heard last night. It seems I was a bit hasty in cutting Professor Glukov’s funding. I should have stayed with him.”

Cherkshan chose not to respond to that. “I would like to send some agents out there. To look things over and see what—if anything—he has found.”

“It’s already taken care of, General. I sent a man last night. I didn’t want to distract you from our plans for the Ukraine.”

The Ukraine was a totally different issue. The former prime minister of that country had created difficulties concerning the natural gas supplies Russia shipped to Western Europe through the Ukraine. She had pushed for her nation to become a member of the European Union and step away completely from Russia.

If that was done, and the West was hoping it would happen, the Russian economy would be dealt a devastating blow from which it might not ever recover.

In a matter of days, Nevsky intended to send an invading force into the Ukraine, to turn the country back into a Russian satellite. It was going to be dangerous, but Cherkshan had confidence that the attack strategy he had worked out with his generals was feasible.

If—when—they secured the Ukraine, things would be different. Russia would be different.

“I want your focus to be totally on the Ukraine, General. That is why I took care of this situation myself.”

“I understand, Mr. President. If you need anything from me regarding this matter, let me know.”

“I need the Ukraine, my friend. Bring that country under Russian control, and you will lay the largest stepping-stone we have had in decades.”

“It will be done.”

Nevsky said goodbye and ended the call.

For a moment, Cherkshan watched the television screen. He was thinking of Anna when he saw the camera suddenly zoom in on a man who had staggered and gone down. As the image came into better focus, Cherkshan saw the blood streaming from a huge wound in the man’s face as his eyes stared into the camera.