The Oracle Code

27



Russian Army FOB (Forward Operating Base)

Command Center

Moscow, Russian Federation

February 15, 2013

Cherkshan stood in front of the map with the projected troop movements of the invasion force he was sending into the Ukraine tomorrow. If all went well, and he expected that it would, the Russian army would occupy a strategic position inside Krasnodon, one of the major cities in the Luhansk Oblast across the Ukrainian border. From there, they would move steadily across the country to take Kiev over the next few days.

He expected to have no more trouble taking Ukraine than the Americans had in taking Iraq either time they had invaded that country. What would be interesting to see would be the reaction from the rest of the world.

The general’s stomach churned as he looked at the map and the magnetic markers that represented the T-90 main battle tanks and armored divisions he was going to use to invade the Ukraine. No matter how easy the task ended up being, he was sending young men out to die. He had seen many of them killed in the unrest in Chechnya. It stuck with a man, especially a commander.

For months, the Russian army had been running maneuvers in the area just across the Ukrainian border. Enough so that the Ukrainian military border surveillance teams had grown lax in their observation. They hadn’t noticed that the Russian tanks they saw every day were different tanks, not the same ones they had seen before. The buildup of cavalry units had taken months as well.

There, in the nearby forests, the Russian army had built up units hidden beneath camouflaged netting. Planes had likewise been brought in to nearby military airfields and would be deployed to fly close-in support for the ground units and the army.

Everything was prepared.

In the morning, the Ukraine—and the rest of the world—would be greatly surprised, and people would die. But if Cherkshan had done his job properly, not as many people would die.

The trick was to achieve an early psychological victory by sending a mass of heavy armor in and supporting it with air strike teams to keep the Ukrainian people from being foolish. They had to be shown that resistance was futile, or they would get bloody.

Cherkshan intended to cut the number of losses, and he was depending on the people within the Ukraine who wanted a true leader and a true direction again. Nevsky hadn’t had to sell him on that part of the sales pitch. Cherkshan knew there were dissatisfied people in the Ukraine as well. Their own government had robbed them blind, left them nearly destitute. All he had to do was provide a reason for them to help bring their country back into the Russian fold.

It will happen. First the Ukraine will fall. Then we go after Greece.

Cherkshan’s phone rang. He took it from his pocket, expecting it to be Nevsky wanting to discuss some almost-forgotten detail of the campaign. Instead, it was Katrina, his wife.

“Hello. How are you, my dear?”

“I am well. I am wishing you were home instead of staying wherever it is you’re staying. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“Our daughter called.”

“Did she?”

“Yes.”

Cherkshan was slightly troubled by the announcement. He would have liked to have heard Anna’s voice for himself. When she’d hung up on him yesterday, he had spent hours worrying over her till she contacted her mother. He’d continued watching the news of the terrorist attack on the Afghanistan dig site. It was the first time Anna had ever been in such dangerous circumstances.

But that silence and refusal to communicate was the way it was between them. The incredible void between them refused to be crossed. He looked at the map again.

I can take the Ukraine in a matter of hours, but I have lost the ability to speak to my daughter.

“Where is she, Katrina?”

“In Kandahar.” His wife took a deep breath and let it out. “This distresses me, Anton. I have seen that city in the news. It is a very dangerous place.”

“Is she there alone?”

“No, she is with the American. Lourds.”

Cherkshan wondered if his wife remained so enamored of the American archeologist now. But he didn’t ask her that, as it would only distress her further.

“I have asked her to come home. She tells me that the situation over there is very dangerous and that she cannot. She is in hiding.”

Cherkshan paled when he heard that, and his thoughts immediately went to trying to find a way to protect his daughter and get her home. If he were able. The FSB had agents in many places, and Afghanistan was a hotbed of activity with the Taliban, the Americans, and the British. Much could be learned from observing everyone over there.

“I will talk to her, Katrina.”

“Do not be forceful with her, husband. She has her pride. If you try to take that from her, she will only reject...whatever help you try to provide.”

Cherkshan knew that his wife was going to say “reject you” but had decided at the last minute not to go that way. She was attempting to either save his feelings or not to ignite his fuse. He wasn’t sure.

“I will talk to her, and I will keep in mind what you have said.”

“Thank you. Please let me know what she says and if you are able to help.”

“I will.”

“Have you been reading her stories? The ones from the archeological dig?”

“I have not had time to pick up copies of the paper.”

“You should read them. They are very good. If it were not our daughter caught in the middle of whatever is going on over there, it would be very exciting.”

Cherkshan looked at the map on the wall and realized that his wife didn’t know what true excitement lay ahead.

“When you have time, I have sent the stories to you by e-mail. You should read them. You should know what our daughter is doing. I think you would be very proud.”

“I will make time.”

“Good. Now call our daughter and see if you can arrange to get her home. Safely.”

“I will, if she is willing.”

“Thank you.”

Cherkshan told his wife that he loved her, then he hung up the phone. He went to the desk that was not his own and sat there feeling out of place.

Then he went to his phone’s address book and selected his daughter’s number.