Arctic Storm Rising by Dale Brown (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📗

and demonstrations in the streets of Moscow, St. Petersburg, and other large cities. They were peaceful so far, but the slightest spark could turn them violent. Worse still, there were unpleasant rumors that the Kremlin might soon be forced by its fiscal woes to cut pay and pensions for the armed forces and the police. And if unrest spread through the two strongest pillars of the state—the military and law enforcement—Russia’s ruling elites could lose their grip on power in the blink of an eye.

The oligarch had no illusions. Although he had been one of the earliest and strongest supporters of his nation’s authoritarianpresident, Piotr Zhdanov, he knew the Kremlin leader would not hesitate to sacrifice even his closest allies to save his ownskin and position. “Lightening the sleigh”—throwing the weak overboard for the wolves to devour first—was an old and cruelRussian tradition. Under serious threat, Zhdanov would eagerly seize the opportunity to toss the mob a scapegoat or two. Andduring an economic crisis, blaming the nation’s troubles on “criminal capitalist billionaires” was an obvious play.

Finished with his depressing reading, he signed the last report and sat back with a heavy sigh. The omens all pointed in thesame dark direction. His status, his fortune, and even his personal safety and that of his immediate family were all increasinglyat risk. He looked up from his desk, noticing that outside his office windows, the morning’s weak sunshine and pale blue skieshad yielded to looming gray clouds. Wonderful, he thought dourly. Even the weather matched his mood. From the look of thoseclouds, Moscow’s first real snowfall of the season was on the way.

Then Grishin laughed harshly. Enough moaning and pissing, Dmitri, he told himself. He had no intention of sitting frozen in fear, like a mouse transfixed by the hungry, burning gleam of acat’s eyes. His determination to act first against the threats he saw emerging had been the genesis for the audacious, highlyrisky scheme he had privately code-named Akt Ischeznoveniya, Vanishing Act.

Leaning forward again, he picked up a secure internal phone. Teams of professionals checked and rechecked North Star’s communications and computer networks every day to make sure they were safe from unauthorized access by corporate rivals and snooping government agencies. Like all rich and powerful men in Russia, Grishin had many secrets that were too dangerous to share. “Send in my visitor,” he ordered tersely.

Moments later, his office door buzzed and then swung open to admit a tall, fit man in his early thirties. From the stylishlytailored shoulders of his Savile Row bespoke suit to the narrow tips of his expensive, Italian leather dress shoes, PavelVoronin appeared to be the consummate, high-level corporate courtier. He had been educated overseas at the best schools inthe United Kingdom and the United States, and it showed. Anyone meeting him for the first time would have pegged him as apolished yes-man—more used to crafting bland, inoffensive memos and massaging delicate executive egos than engaging in therough-and-tumble, red in tooth and claw, real world of Russian business infighting.

The facade the younger man presented to others amused Grishin.

In reality, Voronin was his top troubleshooter—in all senses of the word. Outwardly genial and cultured, he was actually ruthless,driven, and completely amoral, willing to go to any lengths needed to accomplish whatever task he’d been assigned. In thebad old days of the Soviet Union, he would have been snapped up by the KGB or the GRU at a relatively early age and trainedin the dark arts of “wet work,” murder and assassination. Fortunately, Grishin’s talent scouts had spotted him before Russia’srevamped intelligence bureaucracies realized the depths of his ambition and skills. And there was no doubt that the youngerman found working for his current patron far more interesting and lucrative than government service. To enhance his effectiveness,only a handful of the oligarch’s closest aides knew that Voronin worked for North Star Capital. On his rare visits to theMercury City Tower, he used Grishin’s own private executive elevator.

Currently, Voronin was responsible for handling the operational details involved in Vanishing Act. That included acting asGrishin’s discreet liaison with Colonel Alexei Petrov. As their plan drew ever nearer to activation, it was no longer safeor sensible for the two of them to meet in person, or even by phone or email.

Grishin nodded brusquely at the single chair in front of his desk. He waited while the younger man sat down and crossed his perfectly creased trouser legs. “I hear there was an unfortunate incident during the most recent PAK-DA prototype flight?”

With a hint of a smile, Voronin nodded. “So there was.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Apparently, a simple, easily fixed programmingerror created a very dangerous situation—one that could easily have led to the loss of the aircraft and its crew.” His smilewidened. “Fortunately, Colonel Petrov’s flying skill, courage, and dedication to duty saved the entire stealth bomber programfrom catastrophe.”

Grishin nodded. “That is excellent news.” He raised an eyebrow. “I hope the colonel’s merits are appreciated by his superiors?”

Voronin nodded. “My sources inside the Kremlin assure me that the powers-that-be fully understand the bullet they just dodged.Losing the PAK-DA prototype would have been an utter political and strategic disaster. In fact, I hear that President Zhdanovhimself phoned Petrov to offer his thanks and congratulations.” His pale gray eyes gleamed with amusement. “As of this moment,our illustrious national leader is convinced that the colonel is someone who can do no wrong.”

“And this computer glitch?” Grishin pressed. “The one that caused all this trouble?”

“Investigators are already digging into its origin,” Voronin said calmly.

“Will that be a problem?”

“No,” Voronin said simply.

Grishin eyed him. “You seem very confident of that, Pavel.”

“Tragically, the Tupolev software engineer responsible for that piece of flawed code is no longer available for interrogation,”Voronin explained. “Apparently, he accidentally fell out of a window last month. According to the police report, he was heavilyintoxicated.”

“How . . . unfortunate,” Grishin commented dryly.

Voronin shrugged again. “Alcoholism is the sad national curse of our beloved Motherland, is it not? Certainly, it serves as a useful explanation for a multitude of sins.”

Slowly,