[Six Hours Earlier]
On the afternoon of August 17, 1991, in the corridors of the Kremlin that had carried more than 100 years of history, were filled with the hurried steps of senior officials. Their polished shoes struck the marble floor as they made their way to the highest chamber. Everyone's face looked gloomy, as unpredictable as the skies above Red Square.
But those who just came from Crimea looked a bit lost, they felt flabagusted how things has changed in Moscow.
Most of them accepted the reality pretty quickly , after all the 40,000 soldiers of the Moskow military district left little room for illusions.
Once the heavy mahogany doors, carved with imperial patterns, were shut, the Emergency Committee assembled: Yanayev, Pavlov, Baklanov, Yazov, Pugo, Kryuchkov, Starodubtsev, and Tizyakov. Eight men, eight pens, about to sign away the fate of the Soviet Union.
( I need to obtain an official order from this council, or it'll be hard for me to justify the power grab.)
Although what Andrei was doing is blatantly counterrevolutionary , he at least needed a veneer of legitimacy from the party establishment.
This is especially needed if we wants to put up United front against the Color revolution.
Andrei spoke first.
"Comrade Yazov, call the military commanders and issue this order: maintain order, secure all key facilities, monitor the media, and be ready to use troops against any disturbances."
Yazov hesitated. "T...That doesn't sounds good. Do we really need to suppress our own people?"
"Comrade , keep your eyes open and see clearly. These guys who gather on the streets and try to deny the legitimacy of a regime through street politics can only be called thugs!" Anderi sneered disdainfully.
He turned sharply toward the head of the KGB. "Comrade Kryuchkov, it's time you share the intelligence your men have gathered. Or shall I?"
The KGB chairman cleared his throat. "We have information about a planned uprising in Moscow. Strategic sites like the television station, train stations, and residences of officials are targets. A blacklist has also been found many of us and our families are marked for execution."
The room went silent. This is way more what they bargained for.
Andrei continued firmly. "We must declare martial law. Three mechanized infantry regiments, one tank regiment, and a reconnaissance battalion from the Tamanskaya Division will secure the city."
Anderi spoke with authority as if he seems to have become the supreme leader of the Soviet Union at this time.
He issued an order to his colleagues in an orderly manner, " Grandfather your Interior Ministry troops will guard Red Square, the Kremlin, and the White House. Arm them with live rounds. If anyone disobeys, they are to be shot."
Pugo looked uneasy. "That would make us enemies of the people."
Yanayev interrupted coldly. "Other governments have used force to protect themselves. Why should we hesitate? Mercy will destroy us."
"In this way, will we betray our comrades?" Pugo worried that doing so would push the State of Emergency Committee into being the enemy of the people.
Yanayev said coldly, "What? Could it be that MacArthur of the United States can bloodily suppress the veterans of World War I, and the Gwangju incident in democratic South Korea but we are not allowed to take up arms to protect the motherland? Comrade Pugo, if you are too soft-hearted, others will simply take advantage of you."
Interior Minister Pugo was refuted speechless, while Defense Minister Yazov expressed support for Anderi's approach. Indicating it was already decided. The end decision can only be unanimous.
Andrei knew Yeltsin had little protection left. His loyal officers had been reassigned or removed. The Guards were now in the hands of men loyal to the committee.
He looked around the table.
"Comrades now the most important task is to assassinate the Soviet traitor, Boris Nikolayevich Yeltsin."
"Assassinate Yeltsin, did I hear you right? Comrade Anderi, I absolutely do not agree with your recklessness." Baklanov, vice chairman of the National Defense Committee, was the first to oppose.
"This is reckless. We don't need to kill him. Restrict his movement, strip his power, force him to resign. This is simply bring violence into politics."
"It will be too late " Andrei said, "Yeltsin could move more than 100,000 supporters from Moscow's Science City to the stud field and it's just to protest the "Pravda" report about his drinking behavior in the United States.
Imagine what he could do if he claims we've kidnapped him. I am afraid Yeltsin has already gathered armed fascist insurgents to support him."
The room fell into uneasy silence.
"Everyone, everyone, listen to me." Andrei took the videotape that he was hiding this all the time, and said ,
"This was given to me by Comrade Genolanov . It shows Gorbachev's assassination by a man who openly declared himself Yeltsin's supporter. We haven't announced the General Secretary's death yet. But what if Yeltsin claims we killed him? His support will multiply overnight, and we will be crushed before we even move."
Faces paled around the table. Everyone understood: hesitation meant death.
After a few more back and forth the the emergency council finally gave him the warrant to assassinate Yeltsin.
Andrei came out of the meeting with a big smile.
"Sir, there's a midnight gathering in the Kremlin. Will you attend?" In the corridor, Elena was waiting. The blonde lawyer-turned-secretary walked beside him, notes already in hand.
"Of course, it's very important. Tell me about Lukasheko."
" Mr. Lukasheko has already secured most of the targets already, till now there has been minimal resistance though he is hesitant to find 14th number."
"Who is he ?"
Natalia immediately took out the list .
"Oh.. it's General Negan Agayev from KGB, no wonder he couldn't find the courage. But he needs to be dealt with."
He turned to the other beauty beside him and said, " Yor take out this guy, he's from KGB so be careful."
"I know." She took the list and walked away coldly without a word.
Andrei couldn't help sneaking a glance . (Nice thighs... Ah no.. this is not the time.. come on Andrei focus..)
"So that's the 'Thorn Princess of the East'? You must have spent dearly to bring her here. Even your father was never that extravagant." Pugo spoke Anderi turned to face him.
"Oh, come on, grandpa. I hired her for her skills. She's worth it. More reliable than half the generals in this city."
"Mm. Yes. Of course. I believe you," Pugo replied, his lips twitching with a hint of mockery.
Andrei suppressed his irritation. As Interior Minister, and his own maternal grandfather, Pugo was both his strongest supporter in the party but also the man who had never forgiven his daughter's marriage. That bitterness still hung between them, even in moments like this.
"Well," Pugo went on, voice edged with sarcasm, "isn't this our little Andrei, big moment. So it's now or never for you, hm? Whatever. I'll never understand you young men. Tell me what's the plan?"
Andrei drew in a breath. "The army will mobilize under martial law. A state of war will be declared. Tanks will surround the White House as quickly as possible. Political commissars will enforce discipline. Any soldier who disobeys is to be shot on the spot."
"Surround but not fight, why?" Pugo asked suspiciously.
"Killing people is not what tanks do. Tanks are responsible for maintaining order and stability. We need to show the public how Yeltsin tried to assassinate the General secratary."
Pugo leaned back, tapping his cane against the floor. "And why kill him at all? He's just a drunk. He'll bury himself in a bottle sooner or later."
"You underestimate him. He has the people. He has the West. And most importantly…" Andrei paused, his tone darkening.
"…for my rise, Yeltsin must die."
_______________________
After the meeting they all came out of the venue with bloodless faces. Everyone knew that tonight would be a calm night before the storm, and tomorrow, the political situation in the Soviet Union would undergo an earth-shaking change.
Meanwhile, across the ocean.
At this time on the opposite side of the globe the United States was still in the dark afternoon of the setting sun.
At the Bush family's retreat in Kennebunkport, Maine. President George H. W. Bush sat stiffly before the television, Barbara's hand on his shoulder, her calm words doing little to ease him.
National Security Advisor Brent Scowcroft stood at his side, reporting the latest.
"Mr. President, the CIA confirmed that elements of the Soviet leadership have staged a coup. The situation is volatile."
Bush exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Volatile? Damn it, Brent, this is not what we planned. "
"Rest assured Mr . President CIA has mobilized all the resources to support the democratic movements. A few moments ago Boris Yeltsin contacted us for support and recognition. The situation will soon be in our favour."
"It seems that the intelligence department is having another sleepless night tonight." Bush laughed dryly, and blurted out his inner thoughts, "If we're caught.."
"Don't worry," Scowcroft interrupted smoothly. "Our British friends have already sent their man. And our own… specialists are in play. Between them, the democratic forces will have what they need."
Bush glanced at the television again, the screen filled with Soviet tanks rolling into Moscow. His jaw tightened.
"Then God help us. The Red Empire may be dying… but Satan saves his toughest warriors for the end."