Page 35 of Air Force One
That meant—oh God! Inessa had to brace herself with both hands on the back of the couch. Her hands landed where Artemy had grabbed hold to dump the couch over but she couldn’t ease her grip.
Who wielded sufficient power to instruct three-star General Sokolov to take an underling like Artemy to Cloud 99? Who had been controlling his every move these last three years since the fiasco in Antarctica?
Murov! Four-star bloody General Murov. After decades as the Russian President’s right-hand man, Murov had lost control of him. So he was grooming Artemy to replace him—with Murov’s fist tight about Artemy’s strings. And Murov had to do it fast before the current regime drove all of Russia into the grave. If allowed to continue, the President would fracture the country worse than any time since Rurik of the Rus peoples had first conquered and unified the Eastern Slavic states in 862.
Artemy hadn’t merely been taken to Club Cloud 99. She’d wager that Murov had made it clear to the young women that he was the future of Russia—the banner they wanted to attach themselves to. Murov would have made sure that only the women who were powerful enough to serve Artemy’s elevation would know that he was the Golden Child—the Chosen One. He’d probably been mobbed by the most eligible and elite. And, knowing Artemy, he’d never caught on to what was happening.
Fast. That was the key. Murov would make this happen as fast as politically possible.
His first step? Elevate Artemy sufficiently to be interesting to these young women of connection. That explained Artemy’s abrupt promotion to a two-star general in the FSB. No one of the necessary class would pay the least attention to a one-star. But his rapid elevation to two-stars marked him as a favored son of the Federation.
Next was making sure it had worked. This afternoon proved that done as well. He hadn’t screwed one of the President’s daughters, but with the death of Murov’s own daughter, he’d certainly nailed—or been nailed by—the third most powerful daughter of the current age. In fact, a brilliant choice for the future, as she had all the political savvy and connections that she knew Artemy lacked.
His next step? Inessa Turgeneva needed to have an accident to open the way for the girl to Artemy’s side.
Very soon!
Her normal channels would take time—too much time.
Inessa focused on breathing as she clutched the back of the couch with all her strength. In. Out. In. That was all she could manage.
There must be a way, a path, a channel, an escape that she hadn’t set up previously because she’d been naïve and stupid. There should have been more time. There should have been a chance to turn her country’s future onto a survivable path. Neither with the current dictator-in-all-but-title nor with Murov pulling the Artemy-puppet strings would the country recover.
She groaned as she rested her forehead between her hands. She felt the roughness of the cracked wood beneath the fabric where her weight had broken the antique as Artemy had flipped it over.
Inessa looked up and stared at the room that had been her sanctuary in a world that favored chaos. And at the television news of the crashed airplane. Crashed, that was the key.
She’d met a woman from Miranda Chase’s team who had made a promise two years ago. Then months later, there had been a phone call. An impossible call. An incredibly secure impossible call.
Would it work the other way? If it did, would it be secure?
If not, she would be removed the moment the FSB monitored it. Artemy’s path to becoming Murov’s puppet would be cleared just that much faster.
But if it did work and was secure, did the promise still hold?
29
Heidi Geller slouched low enough in her chair to stare hard at their office ceiling. Not that there was a whole lot to see on the ceiling of the basement of the CIA’s New Headquarters Building, but she’d count it as a vast improvement over what they’d been finding on the screens.
Harry was still at it, but the whole damn thing was a dry hole.
They’d found the Air Force’s conversation with the senior pilot, General Owen, which provided little insight beyond a lot of technical questions about engines and computer systems. Neither of them had ever tried to hack Air Force One—there’d been no reason before this. Now one was gone and the other remained powered down, so there was no access until they started it up, not that they’d learn much that way.
Then Heidi had stumbled on Miranda’s call. They’d both stopped working to listen to that conversation.
“Man, she is one chill technical lady.”
Heidi could only nod in agreement with Harry’s assessment. She hadn’t understood half of what Miranda had told the pilot, but she’d really tried to save them. Too bad none of that had worked either.
The patch through for her to say goodbye to the President had Heidi reaching for tissues. She knew Harry was equally touched by how hard he pounded on his keyboard as soon as the playback of the call ended. He even left his half slice of pepperoni-and-mushroom pizza on the plate by his station. Harry never left unfinished pizza.
“You asleep on the job, Geller?”
“Can’t you go fuck with someone else, Reese? Anyone else?”
Clarissa didn’t snarl. Didn’t even complain. Where was the fun in that?
Instead, she grabbed a paper plate and a slice of pizza before plummeting into the chair Heidi often used as a footstool. Clarissa said that she only ate junk food when she decided to hang out down here in Cyber Division.
