“We have to recognize, Vladimir Vladimirovich,” continued Gareyev, “that after the events at Ligatne, our propaganda line that we are in full control of the Baltics is faltering. Even the Russian speakers are coming out against us and many are joining the insurgents in the forest, so it’s hardly surprising that our adversaries are able to tell a more compelling story. We need a two-pronged strategy in the Baltic states. While imposing the strictest security, we also need to apply economic and social effects to persuade the majority of the population that they will be better off in the Russian Federation. I believe . . .”

The President held up his hand for Gareyev to stop; he clearly needed to dominate the discussion, not let the general take control as he was beginning to. “Before you go any further, Mikhail Nikolayevich, any more news on the names of who was responsible for the attacks against me and my soldiers last week?”

“Vladimir Vladimirovich,” replied Gareyev, slipping back into his role of tough but utterly loyal supporter. “This was almost certainly a detachment of the Latvian Special Operations Forces supported, as you well know, by a small British military team. Our sources in UK are still working on their names, but it is getting ever more difficult for them to operate there. We know these terrorists are in the forests from a number of intercepts. But they’re only using data-burst transmissions very sparingly and they change location immediately. There’s one hell of a lot of forest out there to hide in.”

Komarov saw the President’s neck flush and knew, from the way in which he held his right hand down on the desk with his left, that it was only with the greatest difficulty that the President was able to restrain himself from shouting at the irritatingly confident general, who was now making excuses for his failure to find the perpetrators.

“I want them captured. Is that clear, Mikhail Nikolayevich,” he said, his voice furious. “I am not prepared to be made a fool of by the British, let alone British Special Forces. Is that clear?”

“We no longer believe these are Special Forces, Vladimir Vladimirovich,” continued Gareyev in a measured tone. “We are informed it is a five-man team of infantry under a captain. They were the only British trainers in Latvia at the time of the liberation and we now know they went into the forest with Latvian Special Forces.”

It would have been bad enough, but just about explainable, if the Presidential humiliation had been at the hands of Britain’s elite Special Forces. But for this to have been the work of ordinary soldiers was doubly embarrassing. Komarov noted the other faces on the screen remained totally neutral, for fear of drawing the President’s wrath.

“If they’re not Special Forces they’ll be easy to pick up. I want that captain, preferably alive. In fact—”