The Soviet Comeback by Jamie Smith (best ereader for academics TXT) 📕

“Very well. Tell him to hold one moment.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the secretary. Conlan pushed the phone to his chest to cover the receiver. “Nat! Come here,” he yelled to the house.

The young man hurried into the room, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Come here,” Conlan ordered, and Nat duly complied. When he reached the secretary, the old man reached out and rubbed his head.

“Rubbing a nigger’s head has always brought me luck,” Conlan said matter-of-factly. “Now run along,” he added and lifted the receiver to his ear. “Secretary Conlan speaking.”

“Simon? Surprised to hear you answering the phone yourself, isn’t that what you pay your army of slaves for?”

“The key word there is that I pay them. This better be good, Harry, it’s the first weekend off I’ve had in years.”

“Are you safe to talk?”

“I’m in my own home.”

“This is a matter of national security.”

“It’s fine, Harry, I’m alone; spit it out.”

“I need to know where you stand on the INF Treaty; things are moving fast and we need you on board.”

“You know where I stand, Harry, and I made that clear to the president just yesterday.”

“For Christ’s sake, Simon, Petrenko is giving us exactly what we’ve wanted for the past seven years. Why are you still fighting it?”

“Exactly what y’all want, Harry. I’ve fought this the whole way. Why would he just suddenly want to give in to your requests? Giving up all the things he said were non-negotiable before? The man’s a crook.”

“Come on man, you know his new slogan, Glasnost — Russian Government transparency. The world is changing; you need to keep up and keep on board.”

“Glasnost! That’s horseshit and you know it. Just like their ailing campaign in Afghanistan, none of it means that the Soviets have given up their long-term aggressive designs. Communism can’t be contained or appeased; it needs to be crushed.”

“You’re becoming a relic, Simon. The chief of staff is clear on this; you need to play for the team.

“Chief of Staff Baker is going to be out the door as quickly as he’s just entered it.”

There was a long pause.

“I know about the Iran Contra dealing, Simon. And so does the chief of staff.”

Simon froze where he stood. He stood in silence for some time.

“Simon, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” he replied icily.

“I’m on your side with this, buddy; we’ve been together on the cabinet since eighty-two…”

“You mean since you hijacked my move for secretary of state.”

“Since the president appointed you secretary of defense, not exactly a bad gig. None of this needs to come out. I just need to know that you’ll at least stay away from the press and let us get this thing through?”

“No,” said Simon and slammed down the phone.

His usually bronzed face had turned red with anger as he grabbed the whole phone set and threw it across the room. So consumed was he by his rage that he didn’t notice the red dot hovering over his heart.

***

Precisely eight hundred and fifty metres away, Nikita lay flat against the hard, cracked ground amidst the wispy yellow grass in full camouflage gear, his Dragunov sniper rifle firmly pressed into the crook of his shoulder and his eye pressed to the scope. In his ear he had heard it all. He didn’t know who their source was, but a KGB agent had at some point turned someone in the Conlan household. Bugs throughout the ranch had meant Soviet espionage had been able to follow his stance over the past seven years. Listening in to the conversion, Nikita could not imagine it had been a challenge to turn any one of the people in his household.

He sighed. It didn’t seem to matter where he was in the world, his race was either seen as a threat or inferior. Never as people.

Nikita dragged his thoughts back to the target. It was amazing, really, how arrogant Conlan was to think that he could speak so publicly and critically of the Soviets and think there would be no consequences. He watched him through the scope, standing there openly in his living room with the French doors thrown open to the world. He really didn’t need the bugging equipment; it would be so easy to get into the house and listen in person, especially with the secretary of defense not qualifying for secret service protection.

It would not be hard to kill a man such as this but Nikita was aware of a part of him silently praying for Conlan to reverse his stance. Just let the INF Treaty happen and nobody needs to die. One week into being a full KGB agent, he had enough blood on his hands.

He had shuffled on the ground to get more comfortable and the gun shifted slightly so that the laser sighting suddenly slipped over onto the wall, the tell-tale red dot vivid against the pale blue walls. Mercifully, at that moment Conlan had turned to look out the window, leaving the dot behind him and Nikita had carefully adjusted it to move back onto his chest without passing his eyes — no mean feat from eight hundred and fifty metres away where even the slightest nudge would move it several yards.

After more than a minute he had guided it back onto Conlan and was satisfied he had full control again.

As he heard the conversation rise to a crescendo, he prepared to take the shot, giving a last sweep to his surroundings, the gentle breeze rolling across the plains. He was calm and confident. Top of the academy for sniping, it was one place where he couldn’t be attacked or undermined by his fellow students or commanding officers.

Conlan slammed down the phone, and Nikita began to exhale and gently squeeze the trigger as he’d been taught