Commander's Intent
30 AUG 1999 – 0921
Kate Laswell
Central Intelligence Agency (embedded with US Embassy)
Sakhra, Urzikstan
"I'm surprised that Russkiy is even letting us talk to her," Barney Davidson, US Ambassador to Urzikstan, commented as their driver made a turn at the intersection. "Let alone invite us."
"It was really Al-Fulani, sir," Phillip Carter, his assistant, remarked as he slouched in his seat. "Still betting this is a PR stunt. Trying to justify this entire operation."
Kate Laswell, officially an attaché for the Embassy, sitting next to Carter, stared off into the distance through the bulletproof glass. The citizens were staring at them. Some, children, were playfully chasing the vehicle, as if unaware of the broken world they occupied. Then there were others, disheveled, broken, wondering about in a daze. In one street, they saw Russian soldiers struggling to hand out supplies to a sea of beggars and the desperate.
"Hey, Laswell," Davidson interrupted her thoughts, "stay focused."
Laswell took herself from the view and shook her head. "Sorry, sir." She took another look at the thin folder containing the Russian general's dossier. At least everything the CIA had on her.
Laswell reopened it for the hundredth time, taking in all the few details while glancing at the picture of the Russian General. It has been about a month since the Russians steamrolled into Urzikstan like it was 1979. In that time, Laswell observed, it had been one crisis after another. The gas attack and subsequent civilian killings in some no name village was just an exclamation point to a terrible thirty days. Since then, the Russians seemed to have stopped in their advance, instead holding positions in territories they control. Russian newsreels suggest that they were now trying to undo the damage they had done but it all played out like propaganda.
"She's up to something," Laswell suddenly stated, thinking to herself out loud.
Davidson crossed his arms. "That's what you're here to find out," he reminded her.
Their car, getting past checkpoint after checkpoint, eventually pulled up at the front entrance to the capital building.
Stepping out, Laswell saw the luxurious décor in the lobby through the tall glass walls. It was more of a palace than anything else, she silently noted.
"Let's go kids," Davidson said, leading them into the building.
Once they had identified themselves, and the paperwork in order, the guardsmen of the building escorted the trio towards the Office of the President of Urzikstan.
The decadence that Laswell noted was made all the more apparent. Lush vegetation with a large marble fountain in the center of the lobby. Beautiful artwork from around the world that must have cost a fortune occupied the walls.
"Nice place," Carter commented to Laswell.
The embedded CIA officer made no response.
Reaching the fifth and top floor, the trio were led through two large polished wooden doors with golden frames and handles.
Inside, they were met with a large office that could've belonged to a king: white furniture, glass table, exotic rugs and a moderate, but lovingly made, oak desk. The only thing that was missing was a larger than life painting of the big man himself.
Speak of the devil, Laswell didn't say out loud, there he was.
Sitting at the middle couch was President Al-Fulani, the newly installed head of Urzikstan, reading a newspaper. He was well dressed in a tan pressed suit, sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and thick framed glasses.
Then there was her. The General, commanding officer of all Russian forces in the country, sat with her leg crossed in her dress uniform. She was on the couch perpendicular to the President's, reading a book. She also had a headset on, jacked into an old Sony Walkman cassette player.
She was the first to notice, at first slowly pulling back on her headset before turning off the player. Al-Fulani was a close second, looking up and the folding his newspaper. The General set aside her book and device and stood up, buttoning up her jacket. Al-Fulani did the same.
Laswell took a quick glance at the book the General was reading.
"Good morning, Mister President," Davidson said, shaking hands with Al-Fulani.
"A good morning to you too, Mister Ambassador," Al-Fulani replied. "And I truly appreciate you coming on such short notice."
"Pleasure was all ours, sir," Davidson continued. He glanced at the General, who was standing at attention. "Not everyday we're allowed to talk with the foreign commanding officer of a whole theater during a major invasion."
"Yes, where are my manners." Al-Fulani gestured to the Russian. "Gentlemen, lady," he said, "allow me to introduce you to my guest of honor: General Natalia Vladimirovna Alexeyeva."
Laswell finally had the perfect look at her subject.
The woman was a head shorter than she was; had blood red hair tied back, following regulations; and had the sharpest blue eyes she had ever seen. Laswell also noticed graying and wrinkles and a fatigued posture that most likely came from years of experience. The profile stated the Russian was in her mid forties, she looked older. What was that book she was reading, Laswell suddenly asked herself, eyeing the object on the couch.
"Mister Ambassador," were the Russian's first words, spoken with British and Russian accents meshed together. She shook hands with the trio.
"General," Davidson replied. He pointed at his two companions. "This is Phil Carter, my aide, and this is –"
"Hey, I know this book," Laswell commented, picking up the novel. While the words were in Cyrillic, she recognized the cover art. "This is 'Roadside', soviet sci-fi."
The General slowly turned her head towards Laswell. The CIA officer felt the Russian's cold arctic blue eyes piercing her soul.
"Yes, a favored classic of mine." The General raised an eyebrow. "I am surprised you know of it." She then made a warm smile. "My apologies, you have me at a disadvantage, Miss…"
Laswell felt her eyes widen as she stretched out her arm, suddenly feeling out of her depth. "Oh, I'm Kate Laswell, education attaché at the embassy."
The General's face lit up at this as they shook hands. "I see, and, what experience do you have in that field?"
Before Laswell could say anything, Davidson loudly cleared his throat.
"You'll have to forgive Kate, she is brand new to the game of politics." The man made a snide look at Laswell, who felt herself cringe for jumping the gun.
Stupid, stupid, she silently told herself.
The General shrugged. "That is alright, we all have to start somewhere."
"Speaking of which," Al-Fulani interjected, "I think we should begin."
Davidson nodded. "We're not exactly sure why you have singled us out to be here today, General," he remarked as everyone sat down. "Surely anything you have to say to us would've sufficed in a press conference."
The General made a faint smile. "I'm not the sort that likes to make public appearances."
"Why's that?"
"I don't like big crowds."
"Very funny." Davidson made no attempt to hide his contempt. "You should know that the people of the United States –"
"Your government, Ambassador," the General gently, yet firmly, interrupted, raising her hand, "not your people. They don't care much."
Davidson frowned. "We do not take kindly to unprovoked invasions."
"This was very much provoked," the General argued. "Surely you too would invade a hostile nation responsible for wrong-doing against your people?"
Davidson's squinted his eyes. "Does that include using chemical weapons?"
The General's left eye twitched. "Against my orders, sir," she stated, answering the implicated question. "It is currently being investigated. This is an internal matter." She briefly glanced at Al-Fulani before back to the Ambassador. "We have since evacuated the populace, and taken measures to ensure no one enters that city until it has been decontaminated."
Davidson didn't seem impressed. "Aren't you quite the humanitarian,"
The General scoffed. "I am not a humanitarian," she retorted. She then leaned forward, a stern look on her face. "I kill people for a living."
Laswell felt a shiver go up her spine while no one said anything for a few seconds. Other than a small cough, it was dead silent.
Then Al-Fulani cleared his throat. "If we are finished with the dramatics, General, Mister Ambassador."
"You are not my first choice, Mister Ambassador," the General continued, sitting back in her seat. "Everything I am telling you, I was hoping to have told the British instead." She glanced at Al-Fulani again before back to the Ambassador. "Seeing that they have evacuated after my country entered Urzikstan, your people are the only ones left."
"Flattered," Davidson deadpanned.
"If you don't mind my asking, General Alexeyeva," Laswell began, "what is it about the British that makes you prefer them over us." She made a friendly smile. "Other than your accent."
…
"Well, that was a waste of time," Davidson commented as they exited the building, an hour later. "Just the same boilerplate crap I expected to hear." He turned to Laswell. "First impressions?"
"You mean the Russian?" Laswell thought for a moment. "She's weird, to be honest. Not how I expected a military officer to act."
Davidson nodded. "Yeah, I felt the same way."
Suddenly, just as they were prepared to get in the car, they heard another vehicle pull up behind theirs. Looking, they saw a Russian military officer get out and approach them.
"Miss Laswell?" The man asked.
Laswell glanced at Davidson before back to the Russian soldier. "Yes, that's me."
The man nodded. "I'm Colonel Balashov, I answer directly to General Alexeyeva and she has instructed me to escort you to her office at our headquarters, it is down the street from here."
Laswell made another look at Davidson. "What for, colonel?"
"Wouldn't say, just that it was important."
"No, offense, colonel," Davidson cut in, "but I ain't exactly all too keen on sending my people out by their lonesome."
"It's alright Mister Ambassador," Laswell said to Davidson. "I'll go."
"Kate," Davidson sternly replied, pointing at her. "You're playing with fire."
"Mister Ambassador," the Colonel continued. "I can assure you, we will protect Miss Laswell with our lives. General Alexeyeva insists that she speaks with her."
The three said nothing, but Laswell knew that Davidson was thinking.
With a grumble, Davidson approached the Colonel. "Anything happens to this woman, anything, and I will send Marines to kick your ass."
The Colonel stood firm. "Not before my commanding officer executes me first."
Davidson nodded. "Alright then." He turned to Laswell. "You got the ball, Kate, stay safe and see you soon."
Laswell gave a smile before joining the Russian colonel at his car. She hesitated at first, but boarded. The driver quickly drove off towards the Russian headquarters.
"Don't worry, madam," the Colonel said. "It should be about half an hour before we take you back."
They entered the Russian base a few minutes later, with the Colonel escorting the woman through the main court yard.
Laswell saw some of the soldiers stopping what they were doing, hearing them whistle and make comments in their mother tongue. Their perverted grins made it easier to figure out what they were thinking, but no less unsettling.
"Just boys far away from home," the colonel told her. "I'm sure your soldiers are no different."
Laswell still stared at the soldiers as she walked. "Uh yeah," she muttered, distracted. "Sure."
The two entered the main building, seeing officers and enlisted men going about their business. They reached the top floor quickly, and it wasn't long before they reached the General's office. Inside, they found a little girl on the floor in the middle of the room, drawing something on paper with crayons. She was quietly humming to herself.
The Colonel checked his watch. "Alexeyeva is still on her way, and will be here shortly." He looked at Laswell. "Be good to the child while you're waiting." With that, the man left, leaving the door open.
Laswell turned to the girl, unsure if she should say anything and instead began pacing back and forth. Seeing the inside of the office, she quickly pegged the General to be a minimalist, seeing only basic furniture and virtually no commodities outside of the AC and a basic television set. Even the chair behind the desk was worn and ugly.
"You're here to talk to the Russian lady?" The girl suddenly asked.
Laswell stopped to look at her, seeing the girl looking right back. It was a moment before she made herself smile. "Yes."
The child said nothing else and returned to her drawing.
Curiosity got the better of the CIA officer and she approached the child. She leaned over her, grinning. "What's you name, sweetie?"
The little girl was shy at first, looking away sheepishly, but finally let out a smile. "I'm Farah." She stood up. She was dressed in a simple white t-shirt stained with colors, brown trousers, and simple shoes.
"Nice to meet you." The two shook hands. "I'm Kate."
"You are from America?"
Laswell nodded. "I am."
"It must be nice there." Her smile died. "Not like here where everything is broken and dirty."
Laswell nodded, trying to maintain her smile as she got on her knees to be at eye level. "Are they treating you nicely here?"
Farah nodded. "The Russian lady is nice, but she's a little mean if someone upsets her. She and her two friends try to protect me and my brother from the other soldiers. No one else seems to be nice."
"Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking? It seems a little odd to find kids running around an army base. Where are your parents?"
The girl now had a saddened look, looking at her right foot twisting against the carpeted floor. "Oh, my parents are gone." She raised her head. "But the Russian lady is taking care of me and my brother."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Adoption." Laswell recognized the General's voice.
Turning around, she saw the woman standing right behind her, startling and nearly throwing the young intelligence officer off balance.
"Apologies if I scared you," the General said.
"It's alright," Laswell replied, standing up.
The General smiled before walking over to the child. "I see you met little Farah." She patted the girl on the head. "Behaving yourself?" She asked the child.
Farah nodded. She handed her drawing to the General. "I drew this for you."
The General's face lit up. "Did you now?" She knelt down and gently took hold of the paper before looking at it.
Laswell leaned over the General's shoulder but couldn't get a good look.
"It's wonderful, Farah, thank you." She hugged the girl. "Keep drawing, and you just might be the next Savrasov."
Farah smiled back. "I'm glad you like it."
"Everything you make is special, little one." The General continued, speaking softly. She then patted the girl on the cheek. "Now run along, and find your big brother. Lunch will be ready soon."
Farah nodded. She looked at Laswell. "Bye Kate. It was nice to meet you." She then ran off waving, closing the door behind her.
Laswell couldn't help but smile. "Sweet kid," she commented.
The General stood up, the drawing still in her hands. "She and her brother were covered in blood and bruises when we caught them trying to steal one of our lorries." The General turned back to Laswell, her expression grim. "She killed two soldiers guarding it with nothing but a revolver."
Laswell suddenly felt sick. "Oh my God," she muttered, covering her mouth. "She's so young."
"My men want their heads." The General sighed. "Youth can't protect you out here, I'm afraid." She looked down the drawing. "Just a stupid soul who can't really stomach a child's death, or telling them their art is rubbish."
"Are you a mother, General?" Laswell asked, making a sympathetic look.
The General made no emotion as she looked up to her, saying nothing before leading the American to the back of the office.
"Please sit," the General told her as she walked up to the window, setting down the drawing on the table.
Laswell eyed one of the seats before the desk. "I'll stand, if that's alright."
"As you wish." The General kept her stare against the outside world as she unbuttoned her jacket.
The two said nothing for a moment, instead the ambient noise of soldiers and vehicles outside playing a muffled tune.
"I can tell you the time it is in Langley," the General commented. She looked over her shoulder, glancing at the younger woman. She then looked back out. "But not the weather." She turned around completely and walked by her desk. "How was it, when you left?"
Laswell felt her heart skip a beat. "I, uh, I don't know what yo–"
The General reached into her jacket and pulled out a weapon – an old looking revolver – cocked the hammer, and aimed it at her.
Laswell quickly raised her hands, backing up. "Jesus Christ. What the hell are you doing?" She breathed.
"Lie to your Ambassador to your heart's content," the General boasted. "Lie to the world, lie to your loved ones." She took another step, her arctic blue eyes glinting from the overhead lights. "But do not lie to me," she hissed.
Laswell forced her mouth to keep closed, her hands still raised.
"I will ask you only once: are you CIA?"
Laswell knew she was made and she was dead either way. The Russian just wanted a confession. Reluctantly, she slowly nodded her head.
The General's expression loosened and she quickly de-cocked her revolver before lowering it. "I appreciate your honesty." She walked back to her desk, setting down her weapon on Farah's drawing. "Now we can talk business." She took off her dress jacket before pouring herself tea. "Please, Miss Laswell, we have much to go over."
Laswell simply stood there, her hands still raised and heart still beating rapidly. What the hell just happened, she didn't ask out loud.
The General shook her head. "Forgive my theatrics, Miss Laswell." She sipped a bit. "But I wanted to make clear on my disdain of spies."
Laswell felt a frightened laugh come out of mouth. "D-disdain, huh." Her legs barely got her to the nearest chair. "That's what you call it?"
The General smirked. "Smert shpionam." She finished her tea. "Death to Spies."
Laswell felt cold sweat forming on her forehead.
The General poured tea for the other cup. "Please, my treat."
Laswell quickly took the cup and drank half in an instant. "I'm an officer, not a spy."
The General poured herself another cup. "Oh I'm well aware of the semantics, Miss Laswell."
"If you hate spies so much, why did you bring me here if not kill me?"
The General laughed. "In your case, it'd be a waste of a good bullet as well as an unnecessary international incident." She took another sip. "You will suit a better purpose."
Laswell forced a smile that came out broken. "You want me to spy on my own people."
The General's expression suddenly dimmed just before sipping. "One thing I despise more than spies are traitors." She set down her cup. "If I ever catch you betraying your own people, especially for my country, I will spare your government the headache, and shoot you myself."
Laswell's hand trembled as she tried to take a sip of her drink.
"Steel yourself, CIA, you have a long career ahead of you," the General continued. She opened a drawer to her desk and pulled out a stack of papers in a manila folder. She slid it across the table. "This information, I was barely able to get cleared for release. Known terrorist cells and their formations as well as after-action reports from my soldiers that were made after combat encounters." She leaned forward, fingers interlaced. "I think Langley will be quite pleased with this and give them a better understanding of the situation my men face."
Laswell took the stack, skepticism taking control of her. "Why are you doing this?"
"Make no mistake, Miss Laswell," the General stated, shaking her head, "this is not out of the kindness of my heart. I expect a return."
Laswell frowned. "What do you want then?"
"Cooperation."
"I have no authority to do –"
"Then I suggest talk to the ones that do," the General interrupted. "I am here to fight terrorists on the behalf of both Russian and Urzik governments. I do not want another Afghanistan and I most certainly do not want another Mujahedeen."
Laswell didn't respond, only looking at this newfound information just simply given to her.
"Your country needs the truth, to make better judgments than some stupid analyst who has read too many thriller books."
Laswell shot up her head, a determined look on her face. "As one of my mentors told me: 'Truth is only the interpretation of evidence'," she pointed her finger at the General in a matter-of-factly way, "and that's only of what we can get our hands on."
"Then take what I am giving you, Miss Laswell." The General sighed. "I am aware of the ambiguity of 'truth', as it has been a dangerous word in my country for decades." She took another sip. "I did not bring my men, my children, all the way to this god forsaken land to commit mass murder and that is the truth. Interpret it how you will."
The two said nothing more for another few minutes. As they could hear the clock ticking through the sounds of the broken world outside, the two drank their tea in silence.
"If nothing else," the General continued, "with the whole world watching me and my men, it allows for your people to act on my information with anonymity."
Laswell made another cracked smile. "You mean we'll be doing your dirty work for you."
The General smirked and shrugged. "I would prefer to have things done 'in-house', as you Westerners say. I'd also prefer asking the British, but you will have to do." She sipped her tea. "We both stand to gain much with this newfound partnership. An expedient end to this 'war' will be good for everyone." She pushed aside her weapon to look at the drawing again. "Just remember that enough lives were ruined already."
Laswell nodded before standing up. "I'll see what I can do, General Alexeyeva."
"Please, it's Natasha," the General replied.
The two shook hands.
"Only Natalia if the situation is terrible." She then cocked her head. "Or if you are my mother."
Laswell couldn't help but laugh a little. As she began to walk away, she stopped and looked back once more. "How'd you know I was with Langley?"
The General smiled. "You have that look," she answered as she sat down. "The wide-eyed fear-fueled enthusiasm most young intelligence officers have." She sat back in her seat. "I remember when I had that, first joining KGB."
Laswell raised an eyebrow. "Your profile said GRU."
Alexeyeva nodded. "I was seventeen when I was with KGB, lasted a year before I was discharged and went back to school. All buried, of course."
Laswell raised an eyebrow. "S-seventeen?!"
The General nodded again. She spun her chair to look out the window. "I decided to become a chemistry teacher after graduating." She made a quiet laugh. "I only taught for about two or so months in my first semester before the war in Afghanistan broke out. I was given a position in GRU, and then was accepted into their Spetsnaz program." She spun again. "Duty calls."
Laswell said nothing, only trying to read her Russian adversary, to swallow all of this new information. Assuming any of it was true.
The General stood up again, loosening her tie before picking up her sidearm. "I do hope we can cooperate in this country," she stated with a frown. She examined her weapon before holstering it. "Otherwise, I could not begin to give an estimate as to how long my people will be here."
Laswell slowly nodded, unsure of what to say. With that, she made her hasty departure from the office, refusing to look back again.
Outside was the Russian colonel who escorted her.
"So," Colonel Balashov asked as he led her back, "what are your thoughts?"
Laswell took the deepest breath she ever had. "Well, she's not like most generals."
Balashov made a friendly smile. "Actually, I don't think she's like most people."
Laswell looked at him funny. "Is that so?"
Balashov shrugged, opening another door for the CIA officer. "There was supposed to be another general spearheading the invasion." Balashov stopped, taking a quick look around. Seeing that no one was near by, he continued. "General Alexeyeva went to great lengths to see to it that she would be the one invading."
Laswell raised an eyebrow. "Can't be any worse than someone who allowed civilian killings."
Balashov frowned. "She didn't allow anything of the sort and punished the soldiers that did it, and is trying to make amends." His frown deepened. "But you don't know the man she replaced."
As the Colonel led Laswell back out, she couldn't help but think things over. She looked at the stack again, realizing that a General of a foreign army, with a deep background in intelligence herself, had just handed her a treasure trove of information. A cardinal sin in the intelligence community.
Then again, this was an exchange. The Russians give them intel and the Americans stayed out of the way. Hell, they'd do a little bit of terrorist hunting themselves, and give the General a reason to leave sooner.
Laswell then remembered the little girl, Farah, and how her life was ripped apart. Many more people are going to be destroyed if she can't help bring a quick end to this nightmare.
The General was right, Laswell realized. She was in for a long career.
