Decisions ...

The Kotelnicheskaya Embankment Building
Source

Kliment Ilyich Kargin sat in his living room, looking out over the Moskva River, the day was brisk but beautiful. He had just come back from a meeting with some business associates and was deciding where to go for dinner that evening. He was about to call his people at Sheremetyevo to prepare his private jet, he thought that dinner in Paris would be just the thing, when his phone chirped. He looked at the number, and decided it would be best to answer rather than call back.

"Kargin."

"My dear Kliment Ilyich, how are you this fine evening."

"I am well, Johann. How is the weather in Zurich today?" He hated making idle chit-chat but Johann Obrecht was a useful minion, no point in upsetting him at this stage of the game.

"It is beautiful, though winter isn't far away. I'm actually at my chalet in the mountains and we had our first snow last night. Just a little but it reminded me that autumn is coming to a close."

Will the man ever come to the point, Kargin thought to himself.

"But I didn't call to talk about the weather, you were perhaps interested in a real estate opportunity as I understand it?" Obrecht said.

Kargin sat up, "Yes, you've found something?"

"A very nice prospect has presented itself in France, Paris actually."

Kargin went pale, "Paris you say?"

"Yes, Paris, I knew you'd be interested."

Kargin thought for a moment, then said, "Yes, I am. I shall set things in motion on this end."

"Very good, enjoy the rest of your day, Kliment Ilyich." Obrecht then severed the connection.

"Fat bloody chance of that," Kargin muttered.

Paris was one of his favorite cities, why did those assholes choose Paris? He stood up and raged about the apartment for a few minutes. Then he calmed himself and called Sheremetyevo.

"Good afternoon, Mirko. Please prepare my aircraft, I want to go to Paris tonight. Also make arrangements for dinner at Le Cinq, for two, if you'd care to join me. Yes? Excellent."

Now that dinner was arranged, he needed to decide whether or not to go along with Obrecht's plan or force them to choose a different city.

Obrecht claimed to be Swiss, but Kargin knew that the man was German through and through, a bloody unrepentant Nazi to boot. His grandfather had been a Party member, an active SS man, and a friend of Goebbels himself.

Paris, we'll see about that.

The DDO's¹ desk was swamped, his administrative assistant tried his best to keep the Deputy Director's desk organized, the man had a tendency to rifle through the papers on his desk and seemingly pick things up at random. But Declan Watts was constantly amazed at how his boss managed to know where everything was.

"Declan, I just saw that paper on missing Soviet-era nuclear weapons, did you move it?"

"Yes Sir, you wanted Dave Tran to have a look at it, I've got it right here."

"Did Dave look at it?"

"Yup, you can see his notes in the margins. Most of the stuff listed has been accounted for over the years, however, there are at least ten, maybe more, of the smaller, tactical, nukes which haven't been accounted for."

"Seriously?" Ephraim Johansen sat back in his chair and rubbed the thigh of his missing leg, it still ached as if the leg were still there.

"Yes Sir. We've got some intel that most of those went missing in the 'Stans, particularly Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. There were a couple of storage facilities there where the Soviets had stockpiled a lot of their smaller nukes. With an eye towards using them in Afghanistan."

Johansen nodded, he knew about that, but when the Soviet Union had essentially collapsed, a lot of military hardware went missing, not just crates of AKs and RPGs, artillery shells, APCs, tanks, the Soviets had misplaced a lot of things. Current thinking was that the Russian underworld had acquired a lot of that gear, as a hedge against Moscow cracking down on their criminal activities. Which seemed to be working.

"Okay, thanks Declan."

As the man started to leave, Johansen stopped him, "Can you get me in to see the President?"

"Probably, about this?"

"That and I've been hearing rumors of that WEF² offshoot in Switzerland looking to make a splash. I'd like to brief the President on that, with all the shit happening in China, India, and Pakistan, those missing nukes, if they're in the area, pose a substantial risk should some outlaw group get ahold of one or more."

"I thought those clowns were pretty Eurocentric." Watts commented.

"They are, but what better way to take the focus off Europe than another nuclear event in Asia?"

"I'll make some calls, Director, but you're not the most popular guy in this administration."

"I know, but the man did appoint me. He had reservations, but he saw past my recent activities."

"Alright, Sir. I'll make some calls, let you know later today."

Watts stood there for a moment before Johansen made a shooing motion and said, "Go, go, I'll straighten this mess out for you, don't worry."

Mirko Rodin was Croatian, though he told everyone that he was from Zagreb, he was actually from a small village of about fifty souls, Stara Diklenica. The closest city was Bjelovar, another place no one had ever heard of, saying he was from Zagreb was easier than explaining everything. Most people had heard of Zagreb.

He enjoyed working for Kargin, the man was generous and he was fabulously wealthy. As he prepared the man's personal Gulfstream G550 for the trip to Paris, he realized that he had no idea what sort of business his employer was in, not that he cared. The checks didn't bounce and he got to fly the Gulfstream, the perks of the job were huge.

He saw his employer's Ferrari Purosangue coming down the airport access road, he closed up the panel he'd been checking and went inside the aircraft. If he knew his boss, and he did, the man would want to be wheels up shortly after boarding. He was trying to get Mr. Kargin to hire a co-pilot, some days he was lucky to get six hours of sleep, but for now, he was it.

Kargin didn't like being waited on hand and foot, so Rodin stayed in the cockpit to do his preflight checks. When he heard the access door thump close, he turned to see Mr. Kargin standing there.

"Ready to go, Sir?"

"Let's roll, Mirko. Dinner awaits!"

"As many as a dozen tactical nukes?" Bill Aspinall was incredulous, one or two, sure, but a dozen.

"It might not be that many at all, the Soviets weren't really known for their efficiency. Some inventory reports show them all accounted for, but my sources tell me that those reports came from officers with connections to organized crime. Not to mention that many of them were too lazy to actually count the weapons they were supposed to be guarding."

"Wonderful. Just wonderful." The President stood, shaking his head. "What sort of yield are we talking about?"

Johansen brought up a slide with the types of tactical nuclear weapons still extant, "As you can see Sir, smaller ones, like our own W48 have a very small yield, around 0.1 kilotons ..."

"A hundred tons of TNT, right?" Aspinall asked.

"Yes Sir, some of the bigger Soviet tactical nukes were a hundred kilotons."

"Damn, what was Hiroshima,twenty kilotons?" Nakagawa had lost a great-uncle there.

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Damn. Bill, take a memo will you?"

"Certainly, Sir."

"Add all the boiler plate it requires, but in essence, I'm making an executive decision, this threat of tactical nuclear weapons being let loose in Asia is a threat to our national security, and ..."

Johansen brazenly interrupted, "How so, Mr. President?"

Nakagawa, eyes flashing in anger, looked at Johansen, "Do you think a nuclear exchange between India and Pakistan can be contained? What if some terrorist organization gets ahold of one of these things. Do you think they'd be dissuaded from detonating one wherever they felt like it? Could be in New Delhi, could be in Islamabad, or why not Tel Aviv ..."

"Or f**king Boston, think about it, Come on, Johansen, you know how this game is played!" Aspinall was furious. He didn't want his President making a ruling on this.

Nakagawa raised a hand, "It's alright, Bill. I know your question was rhetorical, Ephraim, but you know the stakes. Bill, the memo?"

"Sir."

"I, John Takahiko Nakagawa, President of the United States of America do find that terrorist groups with hostile intentions towards this country may have gained access to nuclear weapons and that the Central Intelligence Agency shall undertake operations overseas to find those weapons and prevent them from falling into hostile hands by any means necessary. If the CIA should find that those weapons have made their way into the United States, then I will promulgate an Executive Order authorizing them to operate within the Homeland."

Aspinall finished writing, "Is that it, Sir?"

"Yes, get it typed up for my signature. Ephraim, go to work."

Johansen hesitated, "One last thing, Sir. Am I authorized the use of deadly force."

"Absolutely. Bill, add that to the memo. Now both of you, get to work."

"Yes, Mr. President."

After Johansen left, Nakagawa wondered if he could trust the man.

"Well, we shall see, won't we?" he muttered as Aspinall returned.

"Sir?"

"Nothing Bill, just wondering who we can trust these days."

"Keeps me awake at night, boss."

"Yeah, we live in interesting times ..."

¹ Deputy Director of Operations, Central Intelligence Agency

² World Economic Forum