Coercion by Tim Tigner

them.  She, Elaine Evans, widow, mother, engineer, American, had been turned into a terrorist.
     

     
    Chapter 12
Moscow, Russia
     
    Minister Sugurov found himself staring through the window of his lofty office, looking at nothing at all.  Officially, he was just tasked with managing Russia’s foreign affairs, but emotionally he was concerned with them all.  For months, the bread queues had been getting longer and the inflation rate had been climbing higher, but the end seemed no nearer. 
    He turned to reach for a cigarette but his hand never made it to the pack.  The distinctive ri-ri-ring of his private phone diverted his hand to the special black receiver instead.  He looked at the gilded clock above his desk—a gift from Gorbachev himself to commemorate fifty years of distinguished service—and nodded.  Seven p.m. in Moscow meant eight a.m. in California.  Andrey was right on time.
    The telltale swish came across the line as the scrambler engaged.  Sugurov always found the sound comforting, although the news that followed often was not.
    “I’m listening.”
    “Good evening, Sir.  Are we secure?”
    “Good morning.  Yes, we are secure.”
    “It appears that all is going well.  The kickoff went as scripted.  There are still a lot of balls in the air—that’s always the case in the early stages of operations this complex—but I believe those balls will be landing as predicted.”
    “Is Alex’s mind proving to be as sharp as you’d expected, his demeanor as unflappable?”
    “The latter was the wildcard, of course.  We know from his file that Ferris is a rock under fire, but the death of a loved one can make even a professional fracture when he should be focusing.  Fortunately, Alex is a laser.  I predict that he will be heading your way within a week.”
    “Excellent.  Your predictions are more like prophecies Andrey, however, if for some reason it begins to look like Alex will take much longer than that, you’ll need to find a way to nudge him along.”
    “Is it that urgent, that … bad, Sir?”
    “Yes, I’m afraid it is.  Gorbachev is losing power by the hour.  Perestroika is a beautiful plan, but a long-term one.  Long-term plans do not bode well for politicians in years when it’s hard to buy bread and sausage.  Gorbachev may be popular there in the US, and over in Stockholm, but the people of Russia are sick of dieting.  I fear he won’t be able to hold on at home if there’s a major disruption.  You—and Alex—have simply got to come through.  Quickly.”
    “Understood.”
    “One more thing: You’ve done a fine job of leading Alex to the water, Andrey, and I admire the way you got him to dive right in.  But keep in mind that Alex has no idea he’s swimming in a shark tank.  For that matter, even we don’t know who lies beneath or how deep the currents flow.  So bear in mind that no matter how good you think Alex Ferris may be, he will drown without your help.”
    “You can count on me, Sir, to the end.”
 

     
     
NATO Council Meeting
     
“In the short term the question for the Soviet leadership now is not whether reforms will succeed, but how to prevent anarchy and chaos.”
 
U.S. Secretary of State James A. Baker 3rd., Brussels [iii]

     
    Chapter 13
Academic City, Siberia
     
    Anna Zaitseva looked up as she finished the day’s first operation and the assisting nurse caught her eye.  “It’s okay, Anna.  You saved him.” Vova nodded down at the patient she had just closed.
    Vova knew her well enough to guess what she was feeling; industrial accident cases always reminded her of her brother Kostya.   “What’s next?”  She asked.
    They were a good team, she and Vova, albeit an unusual one.  As a female doctor with a male nurse, patients almost always addressed him first.  Then Vova would open his mouth and suggest in his unmistakably gay lilt that they ask the doctor.  Given his size and strong rural-Siberian accent, it was like