Durov flushed crimson and slammed his fist onto the desktop. The formerly quiet eyes of the old admiral now blazed as intensely as the setting sun. “Do you not understand, you fool? The few baubles we might liberate from the American markets are meaningless. This is all for the Rodina.”

A quick sip of the wine seemed to calm him, but Medikov noticed Durov’s hands still shook with anger as he lifted the glass. The old admiral used his free hand to knead a spot in the middle of his chest. Medikov started to speak, but Durov stopped him.

“Now listen as I try to explain to you one more time what we are doing.” Admiral Durov’s voice took the tone of an exasperated schoolmaster tutoring a dull pupil. “For Russia to be a mighty and prosperous nation, the Rodina must be respected and feared throughout the world as it once was. Our people must be united, all with a common goal. Peter the Great understood that, and therein lay his power.”

Durov removed a book from the shelf and thumbed through its pages. “He tried to build Russia into a Western country. The idiotic nobility tossed the idea as soon as they could for their own selfish purposes.” He flipped a few more pages. “Lenin understood, too. So did Stalin. Then the political animals took over once again. Still, we almost made it. Do you understand that in a few more years we would have built an impregnable fortress for the Rodina?”

“Don’t tell me you’re an unrepentant communist,” Medikov scoffed. “I know better.”

“No, we are patriots, not ideologues. We were working on this plan when you were still rolling babushkas in Gorky Park for a few rubles.” Durov took a sip of wine, allowing the insult to lie there in the room for a moment. Medikov seemed not to take notice. “Those fools in Moscow are bent on allowing our country to continue to disintegrate until we are no more than a mass of weak, feuding states, destined to suck and poke at each other until we are all bloodless. Those weak bastards must be removed. Now we have the tools to do it. The plan is under way. We should hear from Serebnitskiv soon. If he did his job correctly, we will be able to blame the unsuspecting Americans for the loss of our new submarine, K-475. We must be ready to move quickly in the ensuing international crisis. Now do you see why your timing is so important to the glorious future of the Rodina? To the restoration and eventual triumph of the most powerful union on the planet?”

Medikov nodded and sipped at his American wine.