“I see what you mean.”
“Rostov’s inherent inscrutability and judo were perfectly matched. He’s got an innate ability to read his opponent’s moves while concealing his own intentions.”
“It’s not a sport to him. It’s a philosophy.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s fascinating, sir,” Hawke said. “I’m most anxious to learn where all this leads.”
“To Moscow, Alex.”
“And once there?”
“You’ll know more tomorrow. For now, let me just tell you why I’m here on Bermuda. I intend to establish a new top-secret section of MI-6. For want of a better name, I’ve decided to call it Red Banner. Its sole reason for being will be vigorous counterintelligence operations against the newly reconstituted Russian Cheka.”
“Cheka?”
“Chekists were the Bolshevik version of the KGB. A word formed from the Russian acronym for Lenin’s Extraordinary Commission, or secret police. It’s run by a group of men inside the Kremlin I may have mentioned earlier. They’re called the Twelve. In Russian, it’s the
“Their role?”
“We think it’s possible they pull all the strings. That the Grey Cardinal serves at their pleasure and acts at their direction.”
“So Rostov’s a disappointment, is he? We had rather high hopes for him at one point.”
“There’s some very unpleasant news coming out of Moscow, Alex. Our highest priority is to protect the young states of Eastern Europe.
The Kremlin has already tried to force the collapse of democratically elected governments in Estonia and Georgia. And punished other independent neighbors by cutting energy deliveries.”
“To what end? They’re all sovereign states now.”
“We think all this strong-arming is only a prelude. There’s a strong possibility she may try to take them all back. Restore her old Soviet borders by force. And once she’s digested her eastern neighbors, she’s going take a hard look at the rest of Europe. Western Europe’s at Russia’s mercy, even now. The Kremlin can shut off the flow of energy to our European allies any time it damn well wants to.”
“Christ.”
“You could say that. That’s why this urgent need to revitalize our intelligence operations vis-a-vis the Russians. And we need to do it
“And our new counter-Chekist branch will be based where?”
“Right here. On Bermuda. We’re going to the Dockyards in the morning after your appointment in Samara with Nigel Prestwick. Find some office space for you.”
“For me?”
“You’re to head up this new special division, Alex. I’ve thought long and hard on this, and I’m convinced you’re the ideal chap to take this on. You’ve put together quite an outstanding record these last years, you know.”
“I’m honored. Thank you, sir. Of course, I-”
“Alex, you can have some time to think this over. But time is short. I need you to be brutally honest. Do you have any qualms? Reservations?”
“My Russian is nonexistent, for one.”
“But your comrade-in-arms Chief Inspector Congreve is fluent. And you’ll be surrounded with other fluent personnel from the firm.”
“Ambrose knows about this-Red Banner?”
“He’s part of your team. Already signed on. Two other young fellows from the MI-6 Russian division have come over as well. Benjamin Griswold and Fife Symington. First-rate lads, both of them.”
“I see. Well-”
“Listen, Alex. I know this is all quite sudden. You don’t need to respond tonight or even tomorrow. But if your answer is affirmative, the sooner I know, the better, so I might get on to the next candidate.
It’s early days, but we’re at a critical moment in a new duel with these twenty-first-century Chekists.”
“Pistols at dawn?”
“Not quite. But we do need to move with alacrity. Something’s very much up, as I said, and I doubt it will be an extended olive branch. One year ago, I would have put the number of Russian covert operatives working inside Britain at fewer than one hundred. In the last month alone, I’ve seen estimates that put that number at well more than a thousand.”
“Astounding. Any correlation with what our American cousins are seeing?”
“The same, if not worse. Your friend Brick Kelly at CIA is just as concerned as we are. The Kremlin is sitting atop a deeply entrenched criminal enterprise with unlimited wealth and natural resources as yet untapped. The Russian economy is suddenly booming right along with the price of oil. As I say, they could bring Europe to its knees in less than an hour by simply turning off the oil and gas taps. They won’t do that unless pushed, of course. They like the cash flow too much. So, what the devil is going on with the big Russian bear? That, Alex, is what Red Banner is going to find out.”
“I understand. One question, if I may, sir. Why base this new operation in Bermuda, of all places?”
C smiled. “For one thing, it’s almost equidistant from London and Washington. But more important is secrecy. I can’t run this thing out of 85 Vauxhall Cross. Think about it, Alex. The Russians have invaded London. Not only the obscenely wealthy oligarchs buying up Mayfair palaces but the newly reborn KGB, as well. The bloody Russian spooks and tycoons are everywhere you look. Dysfunctional, amoral, and nothing is out of bounds.”
“I’d heard the Russian
“I’m afraid so, Alex. In the nineties, we were dealing with a kleptocracy, a government in chaos run by competing thieves. These billionaire bandits have stolen Russia blind. Literally, in a few short years, stolen an entire country in what amounts to the greatest theft in history. Now the country is in the hands of the secret police. Putin was first to put former KGB cronies in every possible position of power. The New Russia is the world’s first true police state, ground up. Now, rich beyond measure because of soaring oil revenues, they’re looking around for new worlds to plunder.”
“I’m still not sure I understand your choice of Bermuda for Red Banner, sir.”
“Again, geography. Is there a more isolated, a more pristinely British spot on earth than this tranquil little pastel archipelago? Any Russian setting foot on this island to poke about in our nest will stand out like a sore thumb.”
Hawke was about to mention the exquisitely beautiful sore thumb he’d met on the beach earlier that afternoon, but at that moment, Lady Diana Mars poked her lovely head inside the library door and said, “Gentlemen, dinner is served.”
“After you, comrade,” C said to Hawke with a smile.
He’d have to learn some bloody good Russian swear words so he could let Ambrose have it for leading him by the nose into this little trap C had laid for him.
11
Sleigh bells ring, are you list’nin’? Paddy still got that old tingle. Christmas in New York, you couldn’t beat it with a stick. Something in the air, that’s what they said, and they were right. Fuckin’ magic, that’s what it was. He was leaning on the rail on the Fifty-third Street side, overlooking the skating rink at Rockefeller
