Evil Conspiracy

"Everyone in this room is the elite of the Republic," President Bush said, voice low but sharp. "Some of you are among the world's top intelligence analysts and masters of the global political game. Yet, how did none of you see through the Soviets' not-so-clever conspiracy? Was it all because of the false intelligence fed to us deliberately by the Soviets?"

Bush emphasized each word carefully, his gaze sweeping the room. The question hit hard—so hard that even Dick Cheney, the nation's intelligence guru, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Brent, the president's political adviser, and Chief of Staff Skinner had already fallen silent, their faces clouded with a mix of shame and frustration.

The truth was humiliating. The Soviets had fooled almost everyone in the U.S. intelligence community with their small tactical nuclear weapon masquerading as "red mercury"—a mythical superweapon supposedly capable of destroying the U.S. economy. Even senior CIA officials and top government decision-makers had fallen for it, convinced the Soviets wielded a devastating new weapon.

"And that so-called 'Rod of God' project?" Bush continued, voice dripping with sarcasm. "President Yanaev just casually mentioned it. The rocket launched from Baikonur last May was nothing more than an experimental reconnaissance satellite. But our intelligence officers? They insisted it was an experimental version of 'Rod of God'—as if they were working on the development team themselves. No, they're even better at fooling themselves than the Soviets."

Bush shook his head, a bitter smile crossing his face. "Maybe I should clean house at the CIA, lay off all the agents who passed us false intelligence. Maybe then they'll finally learn what's worth reporting—and what isn't. For example, trying to deceive the President of the United States—something nobody should even consider."

The room remained silent. No one dared interrupt the President in his fury.

Bush's anger was justified. Without NATO intelligence confirming the Soviets did not possess the so-called red mercury or Rod of God experimental weaponry, he would still be in the dark—and still have kept the country at the highest security alert for months. He nursed this grudge deeply, resolved to outsmart Yanaev in the next round.

"Mr. President," Skinner finally spoke, cautious and diplomatic, "you can't blame the entire intelligence community for a single failure. Our recent Soviet intelligence gathering has been remarkably successful. Replacing senior officials now could cause serious... turbulence."

Bush sighed, the fire in his eyes dimming just a little. "I understand, Chief of Staff. But our recent skirmishes with the Soviets have ended badly. This time, we cannot lose. We need to hit back hard—tactically and strategically."

Dick Cheney adjusted his glasses, flipping open a report on the desk. "Speaking of tactics, Mr. President, we should focus on Chechnya."

Bush nodded. "What's the situation there?"

Cheney leaned forward. "Someone recently contacted our CIA agents operating in the Caucasus, requesting another shipment of arms. Guess who it was."

"Chechen leader Maskhadov?" Bush asked immediately.

"No, Basayev—the one who supposedly died in the Dagestan bombing but actually escaped." Cheney's voice carried a hint of grim excitement. "He's planning another attack inside Soviet territory. This aligns with Soviet interests: destabilize the region and force the release of Dudayev. We can use this to our advantage."

Bush's eyes narrowed. "Can we reach Basayev directly?"

Cheney nodded. "Covertly. We'll use a third party—our agents in Chechnya—to facilitate the arms deal. The weapons will come from Africa, routed through Europe, then delivered to the Chechens. Even if the KGB traces them, they'll only find dead ends in Europe and Africa."

Cheney paused, lowering his voice. "It's a complicated operation, Mr. President. Your role is to ensure no strategic missteps. The CIA agents will handle the tactical details."

Bush asked, "Did Basayev send a weapons list?"

"Yes. From revolvers to Kalashnikovs, RPGs to mines and grenades. The Chechen fighters who survived the bombing are in desperate shape, but still dangerous." Cheney's tone grew serious. "Though Chechnya seems stable now, terrorists in the mountains remain a constant threat to the Soviets. We need to support them while there's still a chance. Eventually, the Soviets—and more specifically, the ruthless KGB agents—will crush them."

Bush frowned. "The Soviet army or the KGB?"

Cheney placed a pile of graphic photos on the desk. Bush's stomach churned as he glimpsed the images—some horrifying, some merely grim. Cheney had divided them carefully into two piles: the 'acceptable' and the 'bloody.'

"The ones on the left show a Russian prisoner captured by Chechens," Cheney said quietly. "They slit his scalp, drained his blood until dry, then hung him from a tree as a warning."

Bush swallowed hard.

"The ones on the right," Cheney said grimly, "are Chechen terrorists captured by the KGB. Their fate was far more brutal than that of the Russian prisoners."

He paused, voice lowering as he continued: "The KGB slashed open their stomachs and bled them out slowly. They cut off their tongues, eyes, noses, and ears one by one. Fingers were sawed off with cold precision. Then, to send a message to the rebels, the KGB sent the mutilated bodies back—proof of what happens to those who betray the Soviet Union."

Bush's face hardened at the description, but Cheney was far from finished.

"Even more horrifying was the practice of kidnapping the families of these Wahhabis—women and children. They were tortured mercilessly in front of the captives until the terrorists spoke. Then came the most barbaric punishment. The Chechens were wrapped in cloth soaked with lard, chained with iron, and burned alive. After death, pig manure was poured into their graves."

Cheney's voice was heavy with disgust. "In the eyes of the religious extremists, this was hell incarnate—unclean and humiliating. The Wahhabis call the KGB 'demons' because of these acts. There's a saying in Chechnya: it's better to shoot yourself than to fall into the hands of a KGB agent. That fate is worse than death."

At that moment, Cheney removed his glasses, rubbing his weary eyes.

"This is why we're so cautious in supporting the Chechens," he admitted. "We fear the KGB discovering our involvement. That's also why we brought MI6 into this operation. The British handle direct contact with the Chechens while we provide intelligence support across multiple fronts. If the Soviets try to retaliate, their first targets will be our British allies—not CIA agents."

Cheney's expression grew serious. "Our agents are scattered throughout the Caucasus. We cannot risk them being exposed or eliminated. So, we let the British, eager for revenge, take the lead—protecting our people's identities and securing America's national interests."

He exhaled deeply, then looked to President Bush.

"The decision is yours, Mr. President. Do we support the Chechen insurgency, or do we let this chance for strategic leverage slip away?"

Bush's eyes gleamed with resolve. "We support the Chechens—no question. I want to see the fury it ignites in Yanayev."

Unaware of the full consequences, Bush had just opened Pandora's box.