Chapter 160

Back at the White House we had a good evening with late night snack of cake and ice cream from the kitchen. It hit the spot and was a welcome change, even if it was fattening.

We were in bed by 2400; the boys had gone to bed at 2300. After a little touch and feel intimacy, sleep came easy and breakfast too soon.

I speed read the updates after breakfast; there were no changes other than little fires everywhere that either needed fuel or water poured on them.

I read the Russia and China updates with interest - none of it was good for either. I wondered if there was a way to make China lose interest in trying to take Russian territory - I would have to think hard about that one.

On my desk was an envelope from the CIA stamped ‘Top Secret’ and sealed. I opened it and read the names then copied the papers. I had a special mission for Jenny to do on Monday with the names.

After a fun morning with my family and a lunch of hamburgers, hot dogs and baked beans, they flew home in two 406s. In an hour Vice-President Harrison and I were taking a motorcade to Andrews to meet Russian President Orbatch and his party.

The motorcade had only been stopped a few minutes when an officer approached the Beast to deliver the message that President Orbatch’s plane was fifteen minutes out.

I finished the time by reading the last of the information on Orbatch that could be found through our systems.

Nicholas Orbatch was forty eight and had been to the Russian version of West Point Military Academy, then served four years in the Siberian missile post. He had transferred out of the Russian Army to the political spectrum. He was well liked and hitched onto the coattails of up and coming politicians.

One of those was a military aide to Putin, Fahim Petrov. Intelligence provided that Petrov was married to the daughter of Putin’s mistress. Petrov was not liked outside the leadership circles; he was arrogant because of his connection to Putin. But in Russian politics, voicing your dislike could get you assignment in Siberia or something worse.

Orbatch maneuvered his way through the political triangle by making friends and not enemies.

When Putin passed, a blood bath ensued among the political rivals for the Russian presidency. The gulags filled quickly with those that displeased the KBG.

Petrov was in the first group of bodies found. The Mayor of Moscow and many of lower level officials were in the next group of bodies found.

Orbatch emerged unscathed but his power base was shaky. He tried to unite and hold the federation together but the drought and locusts were wreaking havoc on the people.

Nicholas Orbatch had been married to Alyona Sokolova for twenty five years; she was five years younger than Nicholas. By all standards Alyona was a beautiful lady, they had two children - both boys.

I closed the folder, placed in the briefcase and closed the lock.

The Russian plane had come to a stop on the tarmac and the stairs were coming down. I waited until the stairs were completely down and the advance teams had met with the Russian team. Those teams either rejected or accepted the security proposals before the VIPs departed the plane.

The security proposals were accepted and I exited the Beast to greet President Orbatch at the bottom of the stairs when he came down.

Anton Pavlenko was standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting on President Orbatch to come down so I walked that way.

The Washington media group was out in full force. They were in the normal roped off area. I had the distance increased for two reasons; I wanted to make it harder for them to yell questions and also to listen in on any conversations. Actually I just wanted to make their life a little more difficult. But still, they had boom microphones.

‘‘Anton my old friend, it’s great to see you again. Welcome to the United States,’’ I said as he reached out to shake my hand.

I shook it, ‘‘We can do better than that,’’ I said as I gave him a hug.

When Russians meet someone the first time the greeting is usually with a firm handshake. When meeting old friends, the handshake is usually followed by a hug.

‘‘Ah, I feel you are still carrying your hardware as you call it,’’ he said.