Beslan Incident (3)

After a tense six-hour standoff, the robbers finally released a hostage — a teacher. The poor woman, trembling, held a videotape and a note in her hands as she walked toward the guarded soldiers. Under sniper cover, members of the Alpha unit quickly escorted her to a secure area at the rear and called a doctor to check her for injuries.

Apart from some dehydration, the hostages were unharmed. The teacher informed Alpha and the negotiation expert about the situation inside the school. The terrorists had gathered everyone in the sports center and rigged the building's beams with high explosives. A black widow, dressed in a black robe, controlled the detonator. The other terrorists were scattered in the corners, watching the hostages and the troops outside through windows.

"The terrorists told me to warn you not to rush in. If even one of their men is injured, they will kill ten hostages. If one terrorist dies, they'll kill fifty hostages. Should more than five terrorists be killed, they will detonate the explosives and blow up the school. If the government cuts off power or water, they will kill ten hostages every hour."

Still shaken, the teacher pointed to a series of numbers on the note. "At the end is a mobile number to contact the terrorists. They want you to communicate with them through this line."

Once calmer, she described what had happened in the gym. It was midsummer, and over 300 people were crammed into the small 250-square-meter gym like sardines in a can. The robbers had only opened a narrow crack at the top window. The gym was unbearably hot, like a steam room. One by one, the hostages removed their outer clothes to endure the suffocating heat.

Several little girls sobbed quietly from the overcrowding. An elderly black widow grew annoyed and threatened one child with a gun to silence her. A gray-haired old man tried to plead for mercy for the children, but was met with a fatal bullet. A terrified six-year-old girl kept calling for her mother until a robber raised his hand and shot her as well. When a mobile phone rang, a robber found the owner hiding it and killed him on the spot.

"So far, they've executed three hostages. After killing, the robbers threatened us, saying, 'If anyone uses a phone again, we will kill 20 to 40 people.' Under this threat, some men who had hidden phones threw them to the gym floor. They were then taken upstairs and severely beaten."

Hearing this, Putin's brows furrowed. Casualties confirmed the situation was worsening. "The robbers haven't made any political demands yet. They aren't killing indiscriminately for no reason."

The teacher timidly pointed to the videotape. "The robbers said their political demands are in that tape."

Putin and the commander on site played the DVD. Over thirty robbers stood in a row, introducing themselves one by one. The leader, Colonel Yevloyev, proclaimed loudly, "We will not leave alive. We are here to carry out terrorist acts unless you release Dudayev, imprisoned in Vorkuta. After this demand, we will execute 30 hostages every six hours. If you want them alive, release Dudayev immediately!"

Putin exhaled quietly. At least the terrorists had political demands — meaning there was room for negotiation. The challenge was how to resolve the conflict.

"By the way, do the terrorists wear gas masks?" Putin asked. When he visited North Ossetia, Yanaev had told him that if the enemy's protection wasn't complete, anesthetic gas could be pumped in through ventilation ducts to incapacitate them.

"They don't seem to," the teacher recalled. "Except for a few armed men wearing masks, most showed their faces to the hostages."

The tragic death of 129 hostages from anesthetic gas in the Bolshoi Theatre crisis had been due to army mishandling — unconscious victims left unattended, choking on their tongues. It was a tragedy that must not repeat. Using anesthetic gas carefully was a good option.

"We could use this safe and effective weapon, but there is no anesthetic gas available here like you mentioned in Beslan," the commander said, embarrassed.

"Even if we fly it in from Tbilisi, it will take four to five hours," Putin mused. Then he turned to the negotiator, "Can you stall these terrorists? Any method, just buy time for the gas to arrive."

"Okay," the negotiation expert hesitated, "but I can't guarantee the robbers won't shoot randomly. We can only try to keep casualties as low as possible through negotiation."

"Then it's your responsibility. I'll arrange air transport for the anesthetic," Putin said, stepping out of the command tent. Using a satellite phone, he called General Rogionov of the Caucasus Military District — the only one authorized to mobilize transport planes nearby on short notice.

Once connected, Putin skipped formalities. "General Rogionov, this is Comrade Putin. You've likely heard about the Beslan incident. We need a shipment of anesthetic gas urgently for the terrorists."

Rogionov responded firmly, "Understood, Comrade Putin. I'll dispatch a plane to Tbilisi immediately. We'll keep the transport time under four hours."

After hanging up, Rogionov ordered the operator, "Prepare a transport plane for Tbilisi immediately. We need emergency medication delivered to Beslan Airport within four hours. Don't tell me four hours is too urgent — which is more important, your rank or civilian lives? If you're late, I'll personally ensure you lose your uniform!"

To buy time and assess conditions inside, the negotiation expert planned to enter the gym alone. Putin initially opposed but eventually agreed after the negotiator's heartfelt plea.

"Comrade Putin, I joined the Communist Party not to ask for favors but to sacrifice when needed. Negotiating with terrorists is my job. If I don't act, more innocent children will die, and more families will lose loved ones."

Finally, the commander consented, instructing them to wear bulletproof vests against possible attacks. But Yanayevich didn't care much for armor. Before entering, he called his six-year-old daughter at home, unable to tell his wife the full truth.

"My dear daughter, Daddy has an important job now. I might not see you again soon, so don't cry."

"Then don't go, Dad. Stay with me," she pleaded timidly, making even Putin look away, unable to watch this painful farewell.

"No, if I don't go, more children your age won't reunite with their parents. I have to do this."

"Be careful, Dad. I love you," she said solemnly.

Wiping away tears, Yanayevich donned his negotiator's calm mask. "I'm ready to go in now."

"Think carefully. You won't regret your choice," Putin warned once more.

"I never have," Yanayevich replied firmly.

He walked alone into the lion's den, hands raised with a white flag, signaling his peaceful intent. As he reached the door, masked gangsters rushed him, putting a black hood over his head and dragging him inside. Pressed into a chair by strong arms, the hood was finally removed.

The gym was packed. The heat forced everyone to shed clothes, sitting nearly naked on the floor. The terrorists prowled, eyes sharp and hostile.

Yanayevich was searched thoroughly and cleared. A small communicator discreetly embedded in his ear allowed him to relay information back to command.

A pistol was pressed to his head. Standing before him was the furious Chechen warlord, Colonel Yevloyev. Yanayevich glimpsed three corpses in a corner, taking a deep breath — one wrong word could mean death.

"I'm Yevloyev. If you dissatisfy me, don't blame me for turning you into another corpse," the colonel snarled, loading a bullet.

"What can I say to satisfy you, Colonel? Dudayev will be freed from Vorkuta prison within four hours. Your political goal will be met. Please spare these innocent children," Yanayevich said, neither submissive nor arrogant.

"You planned this well — explosives on the beams, armed men mixed with hostages. A direct attack means mutual destruction. You are a clever commander," Yanayevich praised, feeding tactical info through the communicator.

"I hate noise. Silence means survival," Yevloyev growled, moving the gun to threaten a nearby child. "Speak only the point or I kill."

"Calm down. I will tell you what you want, but no harm to children," Yanayevich raised his hands.

"How do we know Dudayev will be safe after release?" Yevloyev pressed. Ensuring Dudayev's safe exit was key.

"We will personally escort him back to Chechnya by plane, then release your hostages," Yanayevich assured.

"You have three hours to prepare armored vehicles and a helicopter to evacuate us within two hours of Dudayev's release. Fail, and I kill a child every minute," Yevloyev threatened.

"No problem. We'll try to arrange it quickly. Just keep the children safe," Yanayevich said, trying to impress the importance of hostages to the government.

"I've agreed to many demands. Can you meet one of mine? There are over 300 children here — release some of the youngest first?"

"Fine," Yevloyev agreed, "But only after we see armored vehicles. Bring them here, then we release the young hostages."

"Give me a phone to contact your commanders and arrange the vehicles," Yanayevich requested.

The robbers quickly handed him a phone. He called Putin. "Prepare armored vehicles that can enter Beslan smoothly. Don't worry about gasoline — children come first."

Yanayevich's hint was clear: don't supply militants with full fuel, or all efforts would fail. Putin understood, pretending to stall, then ordered two-thirds of fuel drained from an armored vehicle, leaving only a third — not enough for a quick escape.

The vehicle approached the gym entrance as ordered, blocking the way and providing cover for militants to escape.

Yevloyev was pleased with Yanayevich's efficiency, cutting his ropes and moving him to a guarded second-floor room. There, ten young hostages lay beaten, bleeding, crying in pain.

Yanayevich averted his eyes, unwilling to witness the cruelty. Yevloyev knew violence was his bargaining tool.

"I was going to kill these ten, but since you keep promises, I'll spare them. If the government wants to redeem them, pay five hundred thousand dollars each. That's fair, right?" he threatened, raising ransom demands unexpectedly.

"Five hundred thousand is too high. The Soviet government can't raise that fast. Can we negotiate a lower amount or more time? Four hours isn't enough," Yanayevich explained.

"Fifteen thousand," Yevloyev replied, a figure he hadn't initially planned to ask.

"I'll find a way to pay 150,000, but you must fulfill your promise to release those children," Yanayevich pressed, anxious to free at least a third before the assault.

"Forty children," Yevloyev agreed, "the rest stay until Dudayev leaves. If you betray me, I'll kill them one by one."

"Forty-one," Yanayevich bargained, "Let me be a hostage in exchange for another child."

Yevloyev hesitated, then nodded. Forty-one terrified children were selected and released through a door, protected by Ministry of Internal Affairs soldiers and Alpha.

Only Yanayevich and Yevloyev remained in the room, awaiting the deadline.

With one hour left, Yevloyev grew impatient, grabbing Yanayevich's collar. "Why no word on Dudayev's release? You jest?"

He pointed the gun again. "Half an hour left. If no news, I start killing hostages one by one."

At that moment, Putin's voice crackled in Yanayevich's ear, "The anesthetic gas has arrived in Beslan. Hold on ten more minutes, Comrade."

Yanayevich glanced at the gun muzzle and smiled bitterly. Ten minutes felt like an eternity, fighting