Moscow Machination Read Online Free PDF Page B

you know when my team has developed
this ‘initiative’ into something potent…”
    “Just spill
it right now, I am your boss,” pleaded Premier Xiannian.
    “Sure
whatever. I thought you wanted probable deniability when it came to the operations
of MSS. You know if something went wrong?”
    The
Chinese Premier sighed.
    “Trust me…the
moment I have something concrete, you will know… here have another drink.”
    The
premier gulped down the smooth liquid as Gong refilled his glass.

Chapter 7
    NATO, Brussels
     
                Before the Crimean
rapture, everything had been dainty in Europe. Things had been so dainty, that
the French had agreed to sell aircraft carriersto the Russian Navy.
Super dainty.
    And
then Crimea had happened.
    Not
willing to arm Russia with anything from the 21 st century, the French
had followed NATO’s aka America’s orders and suspended the sale of the Mistral ships.
    As everything
was fair in war, both sides had agreed to let the matter slide – at least for
the time being. But despite such assurances, everyone knew something was bound
to happen sooner or later… one way or the other.
    The first Mistral ship, the Vladivostok was undergoing live trials with Russian sailors
and the second ship, ironically named Sevastopol, was 80% done. The boats
were moored at the docks of Saint-Nazaire, in western France. Saint-Nazaire
itself was on the Atlantic Coast, far away from Russian infested waters.
     
     
               
    Gathered at
NATO headquarters, were Lefebvre the French rep to NATO, Doug Sanders the
American rep, a Jean Bernard from DGSE – the French Intelligence and the NATO Secretary,
Norwegian Torgeir Larsen.
    “Obviously
a Spetsnaz black ops?” said Richard Lefebvre.
    Everyone
nodded in agreement. Despite the Russians backing off, everyone knew that some kooky
Russian analyst was cooking up a scheme as they spoke, to abduct the Mistrals .
    Irrespective
of the effectiveness of the Spetsnaz, the French still felt good about
protecting the ships. Despite being completed, the Vladivostok and Sevastopol weren’t like an Audi or a Camry, where one could just hotwire it, gas it and
drive it into a sunset.
    Even if the
Russians did manage to get them out of the harbor, there was always the French Navy,
the US Atlantic Fleet and a zillion other hostile air aircraft. Without armor,
weapons or communications, the chances of a Russian breakout seemed bleak.
    “Unless
you guys take the ships out into the sea… for training… we can cross that one
out,” noted Torgeir Larsen.
    “Oui. Obviously
we have stopped all excursions,” agreed Lefebvre.
    Torgeir
Larsen unsure about the presence of the DGSE Intelligence guy, prodded “So Jean,
you have anything to add?”
    “Well, we
have been keeping tabs on the sailors’ quarters. Monitoring calls, movements that
sort of thing. Nothing so far. The other thing we are monitoring is new house
rentals or purchases by anyone sounding Russian, Ukrainian or Belarusian. Nothing
there either. Overall we feel good about the ships. That’s all I got.”
    “Ok, now
that we know the Russians aren’t stealing it, what do we do with the ships?”
the NATO General Secretary, tried to move the meeting forward.
    “Obviously
we could sell them off to some neutral or allied country.”
    The
American Sanders finally spoke, “But why even return the money to Russia. Let
them roil over it. I don’t give a flying fuck.” Sanders returned to the
delicious croissants.
     
    “Yes Doug,
that’s what we all want. But we still need to explore the possibilities… right?”
said Torgeir the Norwegian.
    “Hmmm. Ok,
so why can’t you Frenchies, just induct these boats into your own navy? All you
would have to do is rewrite the Cyrillic crap with oui and non, oui?” observed
Sanders.
    American Doug
Sanders owned these types of meetings in Brussels as NATO equaled United States
plus token contributions from limeys, frenchies, krauts, micks and the