"Ssottokkodd Ballall?"

"Yes. How may I help you?"

"State Security. We'd like to ask you some questions."

"Fine. Shoot away."

The interview went well, and the two were able to glean vital information from Ballall. He had been a veteran of the recent Liberian Civil War, and he apparently felt a little unappreciated after being a supposed war hero. But there was no real way to tell, since they didn't have his records (which wouldn't have mattered anyway, since the said records would have already been destroyed by said war).

In any case, getting a few drinks in had loosened his tongue. Soon, Ballall was already boasting of his wartime deeds.

"I was the only train driver to serve in the war, I was! I drove Liberia's only railgun! And now, this guy comes and asks me if I wanted a job transporting Chechen railguns."

That got the attention of the two. "Did you just say, 'Chechen railguns'?"

"Yes. There are maybe five of them."

"Do you know who the man who offered you the job was?"

"Yes. Although I don't know him personally, I know his name. He is Diya Sorky, a Russian national. He lives near the Apartments."

"Did he say anything about what you should do with the railguns?"

"Nothing, except that I wait for his instructions if I accept his offer."

"How much is he going to pay you?"

"As much as a million rubles if I can get all five guns to where he wants them."

"Well, any opinions on the matter?"

"Ballall's case could go either way," replied Rosie. "He is a foreign national collaborating with the Chechen insurrection, or he is a train driver that is about to become an unwitting pawn in a huge game of politics and global affairs."

"Meaning?"

"He is in this or he is not."

"Well, he's now a part of it, whether he likes it or not," said Carter. "A simple, one-time contact is enough to implicate him on a trial. Even if he doesn't accept this Sorky guy's offer, he's too deep in this mess to escape cleanly."

The two stopped at a railroad crossing, where a freight train was passing. They took the time to discuss the matter further. "Diya Sorky," muttered Carter. "I haven't heard that name before."

"It would not be surprising," replied Rosie, "although I am willing to bet that either Arigov or Klimov has heard of him. I will admit, there are few Chechens who have made their names famous. So far, only Governor Tarenin has been able to cast Chechnya in a positive light. The rest were rebels and terrorists."

"Who are the Chechens that you know?"

"Excluding Tarenin, there is Dudayev and Barayev."

"Dudayev, I know a little. But who's Barayev?"

"Movsar Barayev was the Chechen terrorist responsible for beginning the Moscow Theater Siege."

"But he wasn't responsible for most of the deaths there, right?"

"Yes. It was mostly by the hands of the Spetsnaz that those civilians died."

"Is there any chance that could happen here too?"

"I doubt that. The Chechens do not want to harm their fellow countrymen. If a terrorist were to attack Chechnya, they are most likely to attack the government."

The freight train finally passed the crossing, and Carter and Rosie resumed their walk. "Why the government?" asked Carter.

"The insurrection views the current Chechen government as mere Russian puppets and collaborators. And for them, those two are the lowest forms of life."

"Even if they did rebuild the country?"

"Yes. It may look like progress to you and me, but the rebels see only Russian decadence and—"

A sudden explosion ripped through the sleeping city of Groznyy. A brilliant orange fireball burst out of the Capitol. The shockwave was so powerful that it knocked down the two women, a full two meters away. Stunned, it took time for them to recover.

"What were you saying about a terrorist attack on the Chechen government?" asked Carter.

"I cannot help it if I am a clairvoyant."

The scene that greeted them inside the Capitol was of utter chaos. People were running around aimlessly, without any direction. They wouldn't have gotten through had they not shouted the words, "State Security!" Apparently, the KGB still held a little power in this part of the world.

"Where did it blow up?"

"It was on the third floor. The Governor, the Vice Governor, high-ranking ministers, their offices are all located there. Anybody could have been a target."

The third floor of the Capitol could have sufficed for hell on earth. The heat emanating from the burning room was like that of a furnace. The paint from across the hallway was already peeling off. But a glance at the sign above the doorway told them everything.

"It's the Central Committee Room!" shouted Carter. "If the bomb didn't get anyone inside, the flames will!"

And then, an astounding sight: two men burst from the adjacent office and began attacking the flames with extinguishers. They recognized them as Governor Tarenin and General Yevin's aides.

"Who's inside?"

"Nobody!" replied Tarkovsky. "The Central Committee meeting was delayed because the press conference didn't end in time, and most of the ministers didn't want to start without the Governor."

"Where is he now?"

"Inside his office, with General Yevin and the Vice Governor."

They went inside and found Tarenin on the ground, kneeling beside a Red Army soldier, whom he tried to keep still while Lieutenant Arigov mended his broken leg. Yevin, who was still dumbstruck by the events, was telling Klimov what he saw, although the lieutenant could barely understand his commanding officer's words.

All of them had no way of knowing it, but they had just participated in the climax of a play that would change the face of Chechnya forever.