Tom Clancy's op-centre_ mirror image - Tom Clancy [90]
Or they could simply listen in.
Before hanging up with Marev, Orlov asked him to tap into the data coming into the Ministry of Defense from General Kosigan and the Chief Marshals' offices. Marev's answer caught him off guard.
"We're already doing that," Marev said. "Colonel Rossky ordered us to follow the troop movements."
"Where is the information going?" Orlov asked.
"To the central computer."
"Very good," Orlov said, recovering quickly. "See to it that the information comes directly to my screen as well."
"Yes, sir," Marev said.
Orlov turned to his computer monitor and waited. Damn Rossky, he thought. Either this was payback for their earlier dispute or Rossky was in this somehow-- perhaps with his patron Dogin. But there was nothing he could do about it. As long as information was recorded in the Center's main computer, available for dispersal internally or among other agencies, Rossky was not obliged to report it to the General even an event of this magnitude.
As he waited, Orlov tried to get a handle on the situation, starting with the stunning suddenness of Ukraine's request. Like many other officials, he had assumed the various maneuvers were President Zhanin's way of showing the world that he had not abandoned the military in favor of Western business. But now it was clear that the march into the former republic had been planned, and that that was the reason so many troops had been near the border or en route. But planned by whom? Dogin? And why? This wasn't a coup, and it wasn't a war.
The first data began coming in. Russian infantry was arranging to link up with Ukranian forces in Kharkov and Voroshilovgrad, yet these weren't joint maneuvers. The appreciative communication from President Vesnik had made that very clear.
What was equally surprising was the unexpected silence from the Kremlin. In the eighteen minutes since the troops had crossed the border, Zhanin had made no public statement about the event. By now, every Western embassy in Moscow would be drafting and hand delivering letters of concern.
Marev and his small team continued distilling raw data from the incoming communications. The numbers of people and machines being moved were staggering. But even more astonishing were some specifics of the deployment. To the west of Novgorod, near the Ukrainian Administrative Center of Chernigov, General Major Andrassy had set up a ten-kilometer line of artillery battalions in triangular support formation: two hundred meters of M-1973 and M-1974 howitzers with one kilometer between them and the next two-hundred-meter bank; nearly a kilometer behind them, in the center of the forward kilometer gap, was another two-hundred-meter spread of artillery. The guns were aimed at the White Russian border and were located close enough to be equipped with direct fire optical sights.
This was no test. These were preparations for war. And if they were, he was wondering how much Rossky-- and by association, himself-- were involved in them.
Orlov asked Nina to get Ministry of Security Director Rolan Mikyan on the phone. Orlov knew the erudite Mikyan from his Cosmodrome days, when the Azerbaijani-- who held a doctorate in political science-- was seconded from the GRU, the military intelligence agency, to head up security at the space facility. The two had met several times over the past year to work out ways of sharing intelligence and prevent duplication of effort. Orlov had found that while the years hadn't dulled Mikyan's