Chapter 2 – Saturday, May 8th
Moscow
Major-General Dmitry Grebeshkov stood in front of the wide windows and looked out across rain spattered Lubyanka Square, watching as police stopped and searched two men a few metres from the newly-restored metro entrance. Such aspects had now become a normal part of Moscow’s daily routine with the authorities struggling to make headway against August 14. Responsibility for defeating the terrorists rested primarily with the Federal Security Service – unfortunate then, that according to some, the crisis was yet another FSB-led conspiracy.
History did little to convince the doubters otherwise, the evidence of the FSB’s involvement in the apartment bombings of ‘99 persuasive, it seen as part of a wider plot to justify the war in Chechnya. With every new atrocity or terrorist act since, many had automatically assumed the FSB was culpable, some three hundred innocent lives unjustly laid at its door in the last decade alone. To counter such fears, the Prime Minister had insisted on a degree of additional monitoring, a pledge made more difficult when the FSB had vetoed the PM’s first two nominees due to security concerns; Grebeshkov had become the compromise choice, his reputation within the FSB’s Investigation Directorate – specifically for tackling corruption – ensuring he was acceptable to both parties, his competence and integrity never in doubt, his lack of independence considered an acceptable risk.
With his new title of Special Adviser to the Prime Minister had come a place on Russia’s Counter-Terrorist Security Committee and an enforced move across Moscow to a suite of offices on the Lubyanka’s fourth floor. Officially, Grebeshkov’s unit was part of the FSB’s anti-corruption section but in practice it was totally independent, answerable only to the Prime Minister, able to inspect, search and question as it saw fit. It was awkward at best, Grebeshkov and his small team having to cope with the dangers implicit in split loyalties, while also trying to ensure the FSB was indeed innocent of all slurs and innuendo. And in a country where trust was at a premium, Grebeshkov felt it safe to assume that someone was similarly scrutinising his every move, their link to the Russian President doubtless rather more direct than Grebeshkov’s to the Prime Minister.
Grebeshkov felt he coped well with the inevitable stress: at fifty-four he had achieved as much as he could have hoped for, and ambition had never been one of his faults. Three children, five grand-children – he loved them all but he still sometimes felt a stranger to them, his thoughts more wrapped up in work than in family. Grebeshkov’s long-suffering wife had long since learnt to live a semi-independent life, supporting her husband when she felt he needed it, and not getting under his skin when he brought home the FSB’s problems to spend long hours at his desk, surviving on a regular intake of strong tea and vodka.
For eight weeks now his hand-picked unit had questioned and probed, rechecking the hundreds of lines of inquiry as they spread outwards from Moscow and towards Eastern Europe, searching for the clue ignored or the false lead blindly followed. Yet despite their expert scrutiny, there was nothing of concern, no evidence of manipulation or collusion, not even a rogue agent provocateur working on a hidden agenda. Grebeshkov was surprised but not complacent, his investigation now stretching out to include the Moscow Police and National Guard.
Grebeshkov turned away from the window, settling down at his desk to re-read the latest update from two floors below. The search was still ongoing for the three remaining metro bombers, although now they had names as well as faces. From subsequent attacks, an additional three suspects had been identified, but again they were nowhere to be found. Unexpectedly, none of the terrorists were from Chechnya or Dagestan, or indeed any other Russian Republic; four were Polish, including the woman killed in the metro, two more were Ukrainian.
Then there was the Latvian, Aldis Eglitis. He was well known to the FSB due to past exploits and it seemed likely he was August 14’s bomb maker, perhaps even their leader. The explosive used was invariably C4, its probable origin Iraq, Eglitis with more than two decades of experience in its use. He had made no attempt to hide from the security cameras or disguise his appearance, and so far Eglitis’ arrogance had been well justified, the FSB unable to track his movements either in the days leading up to the metro attack, or during the succeeding weeks. The terrorists seemed able to come and go as they pleased, invisible to police, CCTV, and the public alike, just six nondescript faces hidden amongst some twelve million others.
Overall, it made for uncomfortable reading. Previous terrorist campaigns had lacked cohesion but August 14 seemed well organised and totally determined, with few qualms as to the numbers killed. So far they had avoided the extreme of suicide attacks and even the woman killed at the Lubyanka had been trying to escape, the terrorists making the most of their resources: two cells, three at most, presumably operating independently of each other.
August 14 – the name had caused confusion and the terrorists’ media rant had offered no obvious clues, no-one yet prepared to believe it was a fourteen-week countdown to some momentous event. If it symbolised a date in the past, then the link was far from obvious. The infamous Marxist-Leninist terrorist Ilich Ramírez Sánchez, known popularly as Carlos the Jackal, had been captured on that day in ‘94, and in 2007 four suicide bombs had killed almost 800 in Iraq; up to a thousand more had died when Egyptian security forces had attacked supporters of ousted President Morsi in 2013.
The Poland – Ukraine – Latvia connection offered various alternatives, the most likely being from 2008. At a mass rally in Tbilisi, the leaders of Poland, Ukraine, Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia had stood with Georgia’s President to publicly declare their support for Georgia in its conflict with Russia over South Ossetia. The actual date of the rally was August 12th, with Georgia’s President signing a French-brokered peace plan three days later – the 14th might thus represent some as yet unidentified event of importance, perhaps even a very specific personal loss.
Whatever the significance of the date, Grebeshkov knew the FSB had to smash August 14 sooner rather than later, before the citizens of Moscow finally lost patience. In less than twenty-four hours the crowds would gather to celebrate Victory Day, army units now both in the parade and as part of the increased security, everyone concerned that August 14 would find its own unique way to mark the end of the Great Patriotic War.
The terrorists needed money, shelter, transport and basic necessities – with their faces splashed across the media and a generous reward offered, the breakthrough would eventually happen, and the FSB’s own specialist counter-terrorism unit, the elite Alpha Group, was more than ready to exact a suitable revenge.
Yet Grebeshkov still worried that he was missing something crucial and disbelief was proving to be an irritating bedfellow, leading to many a sleepless night. The terrorists were just a little too clever, able to disappear far too easily for them not to be receiving high-level inside help. And if not the FSB, that left either someone close to the Security Committee or indeed a member of Grebeshkov’s own specialist team.
Grebeshkov opened up one of the personnel files from the Alpha Group Index, pausing briefly to study the image adjacent to the personal data. The daughter of a Russian diplomat, Captain Natalia Markova had inherited an Asiatic attractiveness, her features hiding a subtle mix of self-confidence and resourcefulness: degree in political science, fluent in three languages, no obvious vices, and no subconscious desire to prove herself better than her male counterparts.
The campaign against August 14 had stalled, and the FSB was struggling to prove it was capable of defeating the terrorists. Markova had never yet let Grebeshkov down, and he needed someone whose integrity matched his own, someone with the initiative to help tease out the traitor in their midst.