General Yuri Borodin looked at the pilot as though he were mad. “What do you mean we have to put down?”
“It’s a no fly zone, Sir.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, tell them I’m on board!”
“I have, they told me even if you were the President of Russia, you’d still not get in by air.”
In all his years as a senior member of the Russian military, he had never been told he couldn’t do anything.
“Ignore them, I’ll have their heads when we land!” he boomed in outrage.
The pilot, under no illusion who was his boss, continued on their original path.
Vasiliy sat next to Borodin quietly. He was used to watching him throw his weight around, of which there was plenty to throw. He knew he’d not hear the end of the outrageous suggestion that, he, General Borodin, could not fly wherever he needed to go, for some time. Vasiliy pitied the poor fool on the ground, who did not know what was about to hit him. Siberia would be his next posting but only if he were lucky and Borodin’s mood lightened before they landed.
“Sir, they’ve just informed me that we have one minute to turn back or they will shoot us down!” The pilot’s voice burst through the silence brewing in the rear cabin of the Kamov KA-60 helicopter.
“Rubbish!” shouted the General.
The ear-piercing screech of the missile detection system cut through the General’s response.
Vasiliy, probably the only man alive who could do so, put his hand on the arm of the General. “General, I think they may be serious,” he offered, in an attempt to avert the General’s ego killing them all.
Shrugging Vasiliy’s arm aside. “Land!” he barked at the pilot who was only too happy to oblige.
As the pilot pulled a dramatic and almost immediate landing on the edge of the town, Borodin looked fit to explode. However, almost immediately as they landed, a large and very Soviet era Zil limousine pulled up at the helicopter’s side. A well dressed chauffeur rushed to open the General’s door and led him to the waiting Limousine, taking a significant amount of steam out of the General’s fury. Vasiliy followed, rather bewildered. He had not informed them of the General’s visit. This had been done as they flew in, only minutes before.
As Vasiliy exited the helicopter in an attempt to keep up, he noticed another man had exited the rear of the limousine, impeccably dressed and standing to attention as the General approached him.
Vasiliy sped up and was at the General’s side when they reached the Zil.
“General Borodin, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sir.” The man offered him his hand.
Borodin took it and shook it. “I’m sorry, you are?” The welcoming party after the threats had completely thrown him off guard. That and his age. The man was eighty if a day, thought Vasiliy.
“The Program Director General, Dr Boris Surkov.”
“Surkov, Surkov, I recognize the name,” thought Borodin aloud.
Vasiliy leant forward and whispered in his ear. “He is on your payroll, General.”
“Ah of course, you work for GRU!” reminded Borodin loudly.
“Technically, yes,” he said before indicating that it was time for the General and Vasiliy to enter the car.
As they settled into the plush politburo car, Borodin wondered at the interior. He had not seen anything like it for twenty years.
“Fantastic.” His mood had completely changed, the wonders of nostalgia on an old warhorse.
“I know, believe it or not, it has only three thousand kilometers on the odometer.”
Vasiliy could see the look in Borodin’s eyes. The Zil would be requisitioned and no more would be mentioned of the no fly zone debacle.
“Anyway, how may I help you today, General Borodin?”
“I just felt it was time to pay a visit.”
“Unannounced?”
“Is that a problem?!” demanded Borodin who was unused to being questioned.
“Frankly, yes.”
Borodin’s face reddened notably. “Do I need to remind you who I am and what I can do to you?!” asked Borodin as evenly as his temper would allow.
“General, save your threats for somebody who gives a shit.” Surkov’s voice belied his age and frailty. The words stung as Surkov rose to the General’s challenge. Vasiliy had never seen anything like it. In all his years, nobody had ever spoken to Borodin in such a manner. Vasiliy looked at the old man who up until a second ago looked like an average sweet old grandfather. But the eyes were dead. There was nothing there. Vasiliy could not believe the transformation, the sweet old man look had been replaced by a monster. The intensity and coldness of his eyes were pure evil. Vasiliy had seen a similar look only once in his life, despite having dealt with hundreds of assassins and killers within GRU over the years. It was a look from a time long ago, a time he had spent many years trying to forget. Dr Boris Surkov reminded Vasiliy of his boyhood in camps where no boy should ever have been and where Vasiliy’s parents had met their maker because of their religion.
Vasiliy shivered involuntarily as he watched General Borodin’s resolve falter under the stare of the old doctor.
“You work for me!” countered Borodin, with less force than he had hoped.
“I work for Russia!” replied Surkov quickly and forcefully.
“Of course you do but under me!”
“You have no idea what you are getting into, do you?” asked Surkov evenly.
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“So, what is Grebnevo then?” asked Surkov with a smile.
“You train sleeper agents!”
Surkov laughed and opened the Zil door. “Go back to Moscow Yuri and come back when you’re a big boy!”
Vasiliy moved quickly and placed his hand over Yuri Borodin’s holster, stopping him from shooting the old man. Borodin’s anger consumed him and he pushed at Vasiliy’s hand to free his ability to teach Surkov a lesson he would remember for the rest of his very short life.
Surkov did not flinch and remained calm as he stared at the massive and enraged Borodin.
“Dr Surkov, perhaps an apology would be in order?” asked Vasiliy struggling to contain the General and in an attempt to calm the situation.
Surkov smiled and shook his head slightly. He had no intention whatsoever of appeasing Borodin. He watched Borodin as only a scientist could, seemingly noting every detail, move and reaction, filing it away as he would the results of any lab experiment.
Borodin gave up trying to wrestle the pistol from his holster and instead made a move for Surkov with his bare hands.
“That, General,” offered the driver, calmly pointing a pistol at Borodin’s head, “Would prove to be a monumental error of judgment.”
With Borodin at the driver’s mercy, Surkov leant forward and disarmed Borodin. “Govin will look after your pistol for you, General,” he said, handing the weapon to the driver.
Vasiliy considered making a move for the General’s weapon but again a flashback to his days in the camps had him frozen to the spot.
Borodin sat back in his seat and struggled desperately to contain his fury.
“Excellent, now that we have that out of our system, perhaps we can go?” offered Surkov smiling at both Vasiliy and Borodin.
The driver remained facing the rear of the car, his pistol trained on the forehead of General Yuri Borodin, Head of the GRU.
Borodin nodded slightly and was rewarded with the pistol being removed and the driver turning and beginning their drive to Grebnevo.
As the car pulled away from the helicopter’s landing site, Surkov asked “So where were we?”
Borodin remained silent, looking intently at anything out of the side window. Vasiliy was left to answer on their behalf. “You asked us what Grebnevo was?”
“Ah of course and General Borodin showed his ignorance on the subject!”
Vasiliy placed his hand for the third time in an hour and only the fourth time in their lives on the General’s arm in order to contain him.
“Grebnevo, my dear men, is far more than you imagine, far more than Russia can imagine and unfortunately, far more, than you, my dear Vasiliy, are cleared for!”
The car drew to a halt and the driver jumped out and opened the door to allow Vasiliy to exit.
Vasiliy did not move. He took orders from General Yuri Borodin and no one else.
“I assure you, the General will be in a far better mood when we return!” offered Surkov as an incentive to make Vasiliy move.
Borodin was struggling to contain himself and not snap the obsequious scientist’s scrawny neck but for all his anger, his curiosity at what he was about to discover was containing him.
“It’s fine Vasiliy, go have a coffee.”
“Give us two hours!” instructed Surkov as the door closed behind Vasiliy.
At least they had stopped in a small town center thought Vasiliy. A coffee shop awaited him across the street. As Vasiliy watched the car drive away, he walked across the road and entered the least welcoming coffee shop he had ever had the displeasure to visit.
There were not many closed cities left in Russia but those that were, were closed for good reason and outsiders were rarely welcomed with open arms. The small town of Grebnevo was no different.
As the car exited the small town, the countryside opened up before them. Borodin wondered exactly where they were going. Grebnevo was behind them and as far as he was aware, that was where they were supposed to be going. Just as he was about to ask that very question, the driver took a sharp turn and had them careering down a small track into the woods that lined the road as far as the eye could see.
Borodin watched with increasing interest as they drove past numerous checkpoints, all exceptionally well concealed and guarded by soldiers who, despite their remote locales, remained extremely vigilant. The most interesting point, however, was the uniform adorning the guards. They bore the insignia of the Kremlin Guard, the president’s personal security detail and most trusted of the military regiments. The no-fly zone began to make sense. “I see the President is here.” Borodin stated rather than asked.
“No,” replied Surkov crisply.
“But his guard?” offered Borodin as explanation for his statement.
“Ours also!” replied Surkov, offering no additional explanation.
Before he could ask any further questions, they began to slow down as large metal gates blocked the road ahead. As they slowly swung open, Borodin could see they were at least two meters thick. They were more like vault doors than gates. Whatever Grebnevo was, it was apparent the world wasn’t supposed to know about it. And whatever Borodin was expecting to see behind the gates, it wasn’t what met his gaze. One of the most stunning neo-classic churches he had ever seen stood before them. Towering above the forest around them and overlooking a beautiful lake, the church took his breath away.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” asked Surkov as he watched Borodin’s response to the view.
“Beautiful,” he said taking in every detail.
“Just wait until you see the house!”
With that, the driver pushed on the accelerator and they sped under the archway by the side of the church and covered the two kilometers of driveway to the main house.
Borodin looked at a building he had seen in ruin. Something that the house was definitely not. It reminded him of the American President’s White House, only bigger, far bigger.
“I thought this was a ruin?” he asked aghast at how perfect the building was.
“A little Photoshop trick!” laughed Surkov. “I believe if you google us you even see tourists in the photos.”
“Anyway, enough of the cover story, General Borodin, welcome to Grebnevo.”