It just wasn’t possible. Yet the messenger had been most certain it had happened. Smitrov had been yanked from his grasp. The scheme that had been proceeding so well was now in severe jeopardy.

Durov paced around his office, massaging his aching chest as he marched from one wall to the other. Everything was at risk. Smitrov was an important piece of the plan. Now he was out there somewhere, unaccounted for.

There was much planning to do, contingencies to take into account.

He half heard a phone faintly ringing in the next room. Vasiliy Zhurkov stuck his head in the door.

“Excuse me, Admiral. Boris Medikov is on the phone. He demands to speak with you at once.”

That was interesting. Durov’s suspicions soared. Perhaps the Mafioso was somehow involved in the attack at Polyarnyy. Durov had no illusions. Medikov would have no qualms about turning against the plot if there was profit in it for him. The man was only interested in the money, not the glory of his country’s return to greatness.

“Put him through, Vasiliy. And get my medication. The man gives me heartburn.”

Durov picked up the phone and greeted the Russian crime kingpin with a verve he did not feel. Medikov ignored his greeting. He started right in, going straight to the point of his call.

“Admiral, we have been attacking the American stock market all day. It is in panic. Another day or two like this and it will collapse in total turmoil.”

“Good! That will deflect the American attention away from us, just as we have planned. It will teach them a much-needed lesson in humility.”

Medikov’s tone changed. He was speaking like someone trying to explain a simple point to a slow child.

“Admiral, keeping them concerned and off guard is one thing. Destroying the world economy is something else. If the American stock market collapses, it will devastate the rest of the world economy in no time. We must now retreat.”

Durov took the bottle of pills his aide offered him and downed two of them with a quick swallow of vodka. “What do we care about the world economy? Why should I care if the British or the French can’t afford to buy yet another fancy automobile? We are freeing Russia. That is the purpose of our attack on the United States stock market.”

“Admiral, we have billions of rubles invested in the West. We will lose it all. I am ordering our people to back off the attack.”

Durov was livid. This underling dared counter his orders! He would ignore the wishes of the next great ruler of Mother Russia. This was insubordination of the worst kind.

“You will do as ordered!” he roared, ignoring the searing-hot poker that jabbed him in the breastbone. “You will press the attack! You will not back off now that victory is so near! I don’t care about your filthy rubles!”