Tom Clancy - Command Authority

Gavin fired up his two laptops, and from here he gained access to the CIA’s SIPRNet and the Ukrainian SSU network. He also set up a computer that functioned as a digital radio receiver, and this he attached to a speaker system. The radio was able to pick up and decrypt transmissions from local police, although only Kryvov spoke Ukrainian fluently.

They got around this limitation to some degree with the use of translation software, so that the data Gavin pulled up from the Ukrainian police network would be instantly and automatically converted to English. It sounded great in theory, but in practice the software was hit-and-miss. Gavin had to read every sentence multiple times to figure out what was being conveyed, and much of it was just gibberish.

While everyone else was getting settled into their new digs, Ding Chavez took Igor Kryvov aside. “Look, Igor, you and I have known each other for a long time, so you know me to be a straight shooter, right?”

“Sure, Ding.”

“I’ve got something to ask you, so I’m just going to ask you. I know you are Ukrainian, but you come from a Russian family. What do you think about all the rumors going on about Russia these days?”

“You mean the rumors that Russia is going to invade?”

“Exactly.”

Kryvov said, “I am Ukrainian of Russian origin, true. But that doesn’t mean I want to be ruled by Moscow. Volodin won’t stop until he destroys the last vestiges of liberty in this hemisphere, so he and his cronies can control everything.

“You have to understand, Ding, there are three types of people in this country. The Ukrainian nationalists are mostly in the west. The Russian nationalists are mostly in the east. And then there are the Ukrainians of Russian descent who want nothing to do with the Kremlin at all. I belong to that category, and we are everywhere. I have seen enough war to know that I don’t want to see any more, especially on my doorstep.”

“That’s good to know,” said Ding. The men shook hands. “I’m sure we could all use a primer on the local organized-crime scene as well.”

“I’ll tell you guys everything I know.”

While everyone prepared the apartment for their stay, Kryvov relayed story after story about the security situation here in the city. According to Kryvov, in the past months Kiev had turned into nothing less than a haven for Russian spies and Russian organized crime. Other crime groups—Chechens, Georgians, and Ukrainian Tatars—were also active in the city, but the word on the street was everyone was now working for the Russians.

Organized crime at the street level, a phenomenon that had declined in Russia, seemed to be on the rise here. Many saw the upswing in criminal activity, violent extortions, and assassinations as just an inevitable result of the political strife the nation was experiencing, but to an old hand like Kryvov, it seemed like something much less organic was going on.

“These new Russian guys in town are bribing local officials to vote in ways that benefit Russia. They are paying off other crime organizations to increase their activity, which causes the local police to be overburdened. They have beaten up, threatened, and kidnapped some journalists who were reporting negative stories about the Kremlin as well. What we are seeing, as near as I can tell, is Russian organized crime here in Kiev doing the work of the FSB.”

Kryvov told the men of The Campus he had never heard the name Gleb the Scar, but he knew some locals who could provide them with more information.

Clark listened to everything Kryvov said about the situation on the ground here in Kiev, then he said, “When I was with Rainbow, the Russians were some of our best partners in NATO. They worked with us on terrorism issues, nuclear proliferation, regional security matters.”

Kryvov said, “There are still good Russian soldiers, needless to say. Good diplomats as well, believe it or not, but that’s just because there aren’t enough siloviki to staff all the embassies with diplomats as well as spies. But Volodin leads everyone by the nose, pays off his supporters by allowing the level of corruption that exists.”

Driscoll asked, “Mr. C, what is our first step?”

Clark said, “Tomorrow I am going to reach out to the local chief of station, Keith Bixby.”

Chavez was surprised by this. “Reach out to him? Isn’t that a little risky? How do you know he won’t just make some calls and get you picked up by the local cops for wandering around on his turf?”

“An educated guess. I’ll tell him I’ve come to help, and I’ll impress upon him that I am a private citizen and I know I’m a private citizen. He seemed like a pragmatic guy. I think he’ll be glad to get another set of eyes in this town.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Biery asked.

Clark shrugged. “If I’m wrong, this could end up being a short trip.”

After being uprooted by the radiation scare at the White House, Cathy and the kids decided to move back to their home in Maryland for the cleanup. Jack, on the other hand, wanted to continue working in the West Wing, so he moved across Pennsylvania Avenue to Blair House, the official guest residence of the White House.

The cleanup across the street in the White House residence began almost immediately. Most solid surfaces needed a thorough cleaning with Decon 90, a powerful detergent containing a three-percent solution of potassium hydroxide. The surfaces were then revarnished or repainted, and retested for the polonium isotope to ensure there were no lingering traces.

But the bathroom Golovko had visited had to be completely destroyed. The enamel of the toilet and the sink had been penetrated by the material emanating from Golovko’s body, and this could not be cleaned by detergent, so the enamel surfaces were removed and smashed into small pieces, and these pieces were stored at a special processing facility in a lead-lined container. The half-life of polonium-210 was a relatively short 138 days, meaning the material could be more safely handled and disposed of only after letting it sit for several months.

While this was taking place, similar decontamination operations began at Golovko’s Capitol Hill hotel, on board the aircraft that took him from Kansas to Washington, and in both his hotel in Lawrence and the rooms affected at the University of Kansas.

While jackhammers were tearing the radiated bathroom fixtures out of the White House residence, Jack Ryan was sitting at his desk in the Oval Office when he took the phone call letting him know that Sergey Golovko died in the ICU at George Washington.

He hung up the phone and headed over to the sitting area in front of his desk, where he sat down and relayed the news to Scott Adler, Mary Pat Foley, and Jay Canfield. They were meeting today to discuss Volodin’s announcement concerning the expanded powers of the FSB, and the news of Golovko’s death, while no surprise, only made the topic of conversation timelier.

Ryan rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “The KGB is back. Call it whatever the hell you want to call it, dress it up in designer suits and give it a Madison Avenue PR department, but it’s the same old gang we all know and hate.”

Mary Pat Foley said, “You know, one could make the argument that the new FSB is more powerful than the KGB ever was. The KGB did not have real decision-making power within the Soviet Union. Not like many think. Their job was to advise the Communist Party. They didn’t call the shots. But now… now the intelligence officers both spy and run the show.” She paused. “It’s worse now.”

Ryan said, “The question is, how will the promotion of Talanov change things?”

Jay Canfield responded, “We can expect action on all fronts. Talanov’s reign at FSB has been characterized by his use of proxies as a force multiplier for his agency. Rebel groups in Georgia, union workers in Ukraine, organized-crime groups working for him in Chechnya and the Baltic.”