Uncle Kolya. On the orders of Colonel Grishin.”
Misha Andreev found himself staring at the phone and listening to the buzz from the disconnected line. He was angry. Angry at the intrusion of his privacy on his private line, angry at the insult to his uncle. If anything grave were happening in Moscow, the Defense Ministry would immediately alert army units within a 100-kilometer radius of the capital.
The 200-acre base of Kobyakovo was just 46 kilometers from the Kremlin; he knew because he had once timed it on his car. It was also the home of the unit he was proud to command, the Tamanskaya Division, the elite tank men known as the Taman Guards.
He put the phone back. It rang immediately.
“Come on, Misha, we’re waiting to start.”
His Exec Officer from the Club.
“Coming, Konni. Just a couple of phone calls to make.”
“Well, don’t be long or we’ll start without you.”
He dialed another number.
“Ministry of Defense,” said a voice.
“Get me the night-duty officer.”
With considerable speed another voice came on the line.
“Who is that?”
“Major General Andreev, Commander Tamanskaya.”
“This is Deputy Defense Minister Butov.”
“Ah, yes, sorry to disturb you, sir. Is everything all right in Moscow?”
“Certainly. Why not?”
“No reason, Minister. I just heard something … odd. I could mobilize in …”
“Stay on your base, General. That is an order. All units are confined to base. Get back to the Officers’ Club.”
“Yes, sir.’’
He put the phone down again. Deputy Defense Minister? In the switchboard room, at ten o’clock on New Year’s Eve? Why the hell wasn’t he with his family, or screwing his mistress at some place in the country? He racked his brains for a name, somewhere at the back of his mind, a mate from staff college who had gone on to the intelligence people, the spooks in the GRU. Finally he checked a classified military phone directory and rang.
He heard the buzz for a long time and checked his watch. Ten to eleven. All drunk, of course. The phone at Khodinka Field was answered. Before he could say anything a voice screamed: “Yeah? Hello!”
Behind the voice he heard a chattering sound.
“Who’s that?” he asked. “Is Colonel Demidov there?”
“How the fuck should I know?” screamed the voice. “I’m lying on the floor dodging bullets. Are you the Defense Ministry?”
“No.”
“Well, look, mate, get onto them and tell them to hurry up with that relief force. We can’t hold on much longer.”
“What relief force?”
“The Ministry is sending troops from out of town. There’s all hell let loose here.”
The speaker slammed down the receiver and presumably crawled away.