"Yes," Dogin agreed. "By our inactivity." The room was growing stuffy and he dabbed the moisture on his upper lip with a tissue. "The people have thrown off their mistrust of foreigners for the promise of wealth. But we'll show them that isn't the way." He looked out at the men in the room. "The fact that you or your candidates lost the election shows how confused our people have become. But the fact that you are here this morning indicates that you want to do something about it."

"We do," General Mavik said, running a finger inside his collar. "And we trust your abilities. You were a strong mayor in Moscow and a loyal Communist in the Politburo. But in our first meeting you told us very little of what you planned if the old guard failed to retake the Kremlin. Well, the old guard has failed. Now I would like some details."

"So would I," said Air Force General Dhaka. His gray eyes glared from beneath a heavy brow. "Any one of us would make a formidable opposition leader. Why should we back you? You promised us a cooperative action with Ukraine. So far, we've only seen a few Russian infantry maneuvers near the border which Zhanin himself quickly approved. Even if joint maneuvers take place, what does that accomplish? Old Soviet brothers are reunited, and the West trembles a little. How will that help us to rebuild Russia? If we're to join you we must have specifics."

Dogin looked at the General. Dhaka's full cheeks were flushed, his pendulous chin raw where it met his tightly knotted tie. The Minister knew that the specifics would send most of them rallying behind Mavik or even running to Zhanin.

He looked at each of the men in turn. In most faces he saw conviction and strength, while in others-- Mavik and Grovlev in particular-- he saw interest but wariness. Their hesitation angered him because he was the only one who offered Russia salvation. Yet he remained calm.

"You want specifics?" Dogin asked. He typed a command on the computer keyboard then swung the monitor so it faced the seven men. As the hard disk hummed, the Interior Minister looked at his father's picture. The elder Dogin had been a decorated soldier during the War, and one of Stalin's most trusted bodyguards afterward. He once told his son that during the War he had learned to carry only one thing with him: the country's flag. Wherever he was, in any circumstance, in any danger, it would always find him a friend or ally.

When the disk drive fell silent, Dogin and five men rose at once. Mavik and Grovlev exchanged suspicious looks, then slowly got to their feet. Both men saluted.