The Brethren (3 page)

A soft buzzer sounded, the door opened, and the Director of the CIA rolled out, wrapped in a quilt and looking every day of his seventy-four years. His handshake was firm, though, probably because of the strain of pushing himself around. Lake followed him back into the room, leaving the two college-educated pit bulls to guard the door.

They sat opposite each other, across a very long table that ran to the end of the room where a large white wall served as a screen. After brief preliminaries, Teddy pushed a button and another face appeared. Another button, and the lights grew dim. Lake loved it—push little buttons, high-tech images flash instantly. No doubt the room was wired with enough electronic junk to monitor his pulse from thirty feet.

“Recognize him?” Teddy asked.

“Maybe. I think I’ve seen the face before.”

“He’s Natli Chenkov. A former general. Now a member of what’s left of the Russian parliament.”

“Also known as Natty,” Lake said proudly.

“That’s him. Hard-line Communist, close ties to the military, brilliant mind, huge ego, very ambitious, ruthless, and right now the most dangerous man in the world.”

“Didn’t know that.”

A flick, another face, this one of stone under a gaudy military parade hat. “This is Yuri Goltsin, second in command of what’s left of the Russian army. Chenkov and Goltsin have big plans.” Another flick, a map of a section of Russia north of Moscow. “They’re stockpiling arms in this region,” Teddy said. “They’re actually stealing them from themselves, looting the Russian army, but, and more important, they’re buying them on the black market.”

“Where’s their money coming from?”

“Everywhere. They’re swapping oil for Israeli radar. They’re trafficking in drugs and buying Chinese tanks through Pakistan. Chenkov has close ties with some mobsters, one of whom recently bought a factory in Malaysia where they make nothing but assault rifles. It’s very elaborate. Chenkov has a brain, a very high IQ. He’s probably a genius.”

Teddy Maynard was a genius, and if he bestowed that title on another, then Congressman Lake certainly believed it. “So who gets attacked?”

Teddy dismissed the question because he wasn’t ready to answer it. “See the town of Vologda? It’s about five hundred miles east of Moscow. Last week
we tracked sixty Vetrov to a warehouse there. As you know, the Vetrov—”

“Is equivalent to our Tomahawk Cruise, but two feet longer.”

“Exactly. That makes three hundred they’ve moved in during the last ninety days. See the town of Rybinsk, just southwest of Vologda?”

“Known for its plutonium.”

“Yes, tons of it. Enough to make ten thousand nuclear warheads. Chenkov and Goltsin and their people control the entire area.”

“Control?”

“Yes, through a web of regional mobsters and local army units. Chenkov has his people in place.”

“In place for what?”

Teddy squeezed a button and the wall was blank. But the lights stayed dim, so that when he spoke across the table he did so almost from the shadows. “The coup is right around the corner, Mr. Lake. Our worst fears are coming true. Every aspect of Russian society and culture is cracking and crumbling. Democracy is a joke. Capitalism is a nightmare. We thought we could McDonaldize the damned place, and it’s been a disaster. Workers are not getting paid, and they’re the lucky ones because they have jobs. Twenty percent do not. Children are dying because there are no medicines. So are many adults. Ten percent of the population are homeless. Twenty percent are hungry. Each day things get worse. The country has been looted by the mobsters. We think at least five hundred billion dollars has been stolen and taken out of the country. There’s no relief in sight. The time is perfect for a new strongman,
a new dictator who’ll promise to lead the people back to stability. The country is crying for leadership, and Mr. Chenkov has decided it’s up to him.”

“And he has the army.”

“He has the army, and that’s all it takes. The coup will be bloodless because the people are ready for it. They’ll embrace Chenkov. He’ll lead the parade into Red Square and dare us, the United States, to stand in his way. We’ll be the bad guys again.”

“So the cold war is back,” Lake said, his words fading at the end.

“There’ll be nothing cold about it. Chenkov wants to expand, to recapture the old Soviet Union. He desperately needs cash, so he’ll simply take it in the form of land, factories, oil, crops. He’ll start little regional wars, which he’ll easily win.” Another map appeared. Phase One of the new world order was presented to Lake. Teddy didn’t miss a word. “I suspect he’ll roll through the Baltic States, toppling governments in Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, etc. Then he’ll go to the old Eastern bloc and strike a deal with some of the Communists there.”

The congressman was speechless as he watched Russia expand. Teddy’s predictions were so certain, so precise.

“What about the Chinese?” Lake asked.

But Teddy wasn’t finished with Eastern Europe. He flicked; the map changed. “Here’s where we get sucked in.”

“Poland?”

“Yep. Happens every time. Poland is now a member of NATO, for some damned reason. Imagine that.
Poland signing on to help protect us and Europe. Chenkov solidifies Russia’s old turf, and casts a longing eye westward. Same as Hitler, except he was looking to the east.”

“Why would he want Poland?”

“Why did Hitler want Poland? It was between him and Russia. He hated the Poles, and he was ready to start a war. Chenkov doesn’t give a damn about Poland, he just wants to control it. And he wants to destroy NATO.”

“He’s willing to risk a third world war?”

Buttons were pushed; the screen became a wall again; lights came on. The audiovisuals were over and it was time for an even more serious conversation. Pain shot through Teddy’s legs, and he couldn’t keep from frowning.

“I can’t answer that,” he said. “We know a lot, but we don’t know what the man’s thinking. He’s moving very quietly, putting people in place, setting things up. It’s not completely unexpected, you know.”

“Of course not. We’ve had these scenarios for the last eight years, but there’s always been hope that it wouldn’t happen.”

“It’s happening, Congressman. Chenkov and Goltsin are eliminating their opponents as we speak.”

“What’s the timetable?”

Teddy shifted again under the quilt, tried another position to stop the pain. “It’s difficult to say. If he’s smart, which he certainly is, he’ll wait until there’s rioting in the streets. I think that a year from now Natty Chenkov will be the most famous man in the world.”

“A year,” Lake said to himself, as if he’d just been given his own death sentence.

There was a long pause as he contemplated the end of the world. Teddy certainly let him. The knot in Teddy’s stomach was significantly smaller now. He liked Lake a lot. He was indeed very handsome, and articulate, and smart. They’d made the right choice.

He was electable.

After a round of coffee and a phone call Teddy had to take—it was the Vice President—they reconvened their little conference and moved forward. The congressman was pleased that Teddy had so much time for him. The Russians were coming, yet Teddy seemed so calm.

“I don’t have to tell you how unprepared our military is,” he said gravely.

“Unprepared for what? For war?”

“Perhaps. If we are unprepared, then we could well have a war. If we are strong, we avoid war. Right now the Pentagon could not do what it did in the Gulf War in 1991.”

“We’re at seventy percent,” Lake said with authority. This was his turf.

“Seventy percent will get us a war, Mr. Lake. A war we cannot win. Chenkov is spending every dime he can steal on new hardware. We’re cutting budgets and depleting our military. We want to push buttons and launch smart bombs so that no American blood is shed. Chenkov will have two million hungry soldiers, anxious to fight and die if necessary.”

For a brief moment Lake felt proud. He’d had the
guts to vote against the last budget deal because it decreased military spending. The folks back home were upset about it. “Can’t you expose Chenkov now?” he asked.

“No. Absolutely not. We have excellent intelligence. If we react to him, then he’ll know that we know. It’s the spy game, Mr. Lake. It’s too early to make him a monster.”

“So what’s your plan?” Lake asked boldly. It was quite presumptuous to ask Teddy about his plans. The meeting had accomplished its purpose. One more congressman had been sufficiently briefed. At any moment Lake could be asked to leave so that another committee chairman of some variety could be shown in.

But Teddy had big plans, and he was anxious to share them. “The New Hampshire primary is two weeks away. We have four Republicans and three Democrats all saying the same thing. Not a single candidate wants to increase defense spending. We have a budget surplus, miracle of all miracles, and everyone has a hundred ideas about how to spend it. A bunch of imbeciles. Just a few years ago we had huge budget deficits, and Congress spent money faster than it could be printed. Now there’s a surplus. They’re gorging themselves on the pork.”

Congressman Lake looked away for a second, then decided to let it pass.

“Sorry about that,” Teddy said, catching himself. “Congress as a whole is irresponsible, but we have many fine congressmen.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“Anyway, the field is crowded with a bunch of clones. Two weeks ago we had different front-runners. They’re slinging mud and knifing each other, all for the benefit of the country’s forty-fourth largest state. It’s silly.” Teddy paused and grimaced and tried to reshift his useless legs. “We need someone new, Mr. Lake, and we think that someone is you.”

Lake’s first reaction was to suppress a laugh, which he did by smiling, then coughing. He tried to compose himself, and said, “You must be kidding.”

“You know I’m not kidding, Mr. Lake,” Teddy said sternly, and there was no doubt that Aaron Lake had walked into a well-laid trap.

Lake cleared his throat and completed the job of composing himself. “All right, I’m listening.”

“It’s very simple. In fact, its simplicity makes it beautiful. You’re too late to file for New Hampshire, and it doesn’t matter anyway. Let the rest of the pack slug it out there. Wait until it’s over, then startle everyone by announcing your candidacy for President. Many will ask, ‘Who the hell is Aaron Lake?’ And that’s fine. That’s what we want. They’ll find out soon enough.

“Initially, your platform will have only one plank. It’s all about military spending. You’re a doomsayer, with all sorts of dire predictions about how weak our military is becoming. You’ll get everybody’s attention when you call for doubling our military spending.”

“Doubling?”

“It works, doesn’t it? It got your attention. Double it during your four-year term.”

“But why? We need more military spending, but a twofold increase would be excessive.”

“Not if we’re facing another war, Mr. Lake. A war in which we push buttons and launch Tomahawk missiles by the thousands, at a million bucks a pop. Hell, we almost ran out of them last year in that Balkan mess. We can’t find enough soldiers and sailors and pilots, Mr. Lake. You know this. The military needs tons of cash to recruit young men. We’re low on everything—soldiers, missiles, tanks, planes, carriers. Chenkov is building now. We’re not. We’re still downsizing, and if we keep it up through another Administration, then we’re dead.”

Teddy’s voice rose, almost in anger, and when he stopped with “we’re dead,” Aaron Lake could almost feel the earth shake from the bombing.

“Where does the money come from?” he asked.

“Money for what?”

“The military.”

Teddy snorted in disgust, then said, “Same place it always comes from. Need I remind you, sir, that we have a surplus?”

“We’re busy spending the surplus.”

“Of course you are. Listen, Mr. Lake, don’t worry about the money. Shortly after you announce, we’ll scare the hell out of the American people. They’ll think you’re half-crazy at first, some kind of wacko from Arizona who wants to build even more bombs. But we’ll jolt them. We’ll create a crisis on the other side of the world, and suddenly Aaron Lake will be called a visionary. Timing is everything. You make a speech about how weak we are in Asia, few people
listen. Then we’ll create a situation over there that stops the world, and suddenly everyone wants to talk to you. It will go on like that, throughout the campaign. We’ll build the tension on this end. We’ll release reports, create situations, manipulate the media, embarrass your opponents. Frankly, Mr. Lake, I don’t expect it to be that difficult.”

“You sound like you’ve been here before.”

“No. We’ve done some unusual things, all in an effort to protect this country. But we’ve never tried to swing a presidential election.” Teddy said this with an air of regret.

Lake slowly pushed his chair back, stood, stretched his arms and legs, and walked along the table to the end of the room. His feet were heavier. His pulse was racing. The trap had been sprung; he’d been caught.

He returned to his seat. “I don’t have enough money,” he offered across the table. He knew it was received by someone who’d already thought about it.

Teddy smiled and nodded and pretended to give this some thought. Lake’s Georgetown home was worth $400,000. He kept about half that much in mutual funds and another $100,000 in municipal bonds. There were no significant debts. He had $40,000 in his reelection account.

“A rich candidate would not be attractive,” Teddy said, then reached for yet another button. Images returned to the wall, sharp and in color. “Money will not be a problem, Mr. Lake,” he said, his voice much lighter. “We’ll get the defense contractors to pay for it. Look at that,” he said, waving with his right hand as if Lake wasn’t sure what to look at. “Last year the
aerospace and defense industry did almost two hundred billion in business. We’ll take just a fraction of that.”

“How much of a fraction?”

“As much as you need. We can realistically collect a hundred million dollars from them.”

“You also can’t hide a hundred million dollars.”

“Don’t bet on it, Mr. Lake. And don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of the money. You make the speeches, do the ads, run the campaign. The money will pour in. By the time November gets here, the American voters will be so terrified of Armageddon they won’t care how much you’ve spent. It’ll be a landslide.”