Ruthra walked over. They stood on the platform. Alexander Ivanovich pressed a button, and they began to descend. It was an elevator. They descended to the room below. There was another platform there. Alexander Ivanovich pressed another button, and the platform descended to the floor below.
It was dark. He took Ruthra's hand and stepped forward. Ruthra followed. They found themselves in pitch blackness. The platform rose back up.
After a second or two, the light came on. The room was completely empty; there was only plaster on the walls, no paint, no wallpaper. Alexander Ivanovich went out into the corridor; Rutra followed him.
The corridor was illuminated by a dim light. When they reached the end of the corridor, Alexander Ivanovich raised his hand and started waving, as if he was trying to show someone something. Suddenly something clicked, and the wall that was in front of them went down. A passage opened up.
Alexander Ivanovich walked ahead, Rutra followed him. They walked a few meters, and the door closed behind them.
Instead of numbers on the code lock of the next door there were hieroglyphics. Alexander Ivanovich pressed 6 of them – the door opened. It was an elevator vestibule. They went in there, the door closed, the elevator went down. Rutra became wary.
– Where are we going?
– Right in the center.
– But not to the center of the Earth, right? – Ruthra joked.
– Not to the center of the Earth, but to the center that rotates the Earth," Aleksandr Ivanovich answered and pointed his index finger upwards.
Ruthra was silent. It wasn't customary for specialists in such services to talk much, much less joke. Every word was a chain of inferences that could be used to get a lot of information. If someone said something badly or made a joke, let alone acted, it could cost him not only his career, but also his freedom and life. You could be an ex if you had your memory erased, and since there was no such technology, as far as Ruthra knew, he realized that he might share the fate of those who "went nowhere," as the experts put it among themselves.
The elevator stopped, the door opened, and they found themselves in a new corridor, exactly the same as the previous one. Ruthra thought it was a test or some kind of trick.
They walked down the corridor to a door that was disguised as a wall. Alexander Ivanovich waved his hand again, the wall slid open, and they stepped out into another corridor. Rutra thought this was a test of courage, and even began to wonder if he had thought the elevator was only going down. He also remembered that the wall in front of which Alexander Ivanovich had waved had been before the elevator, and here it was after the corridor.
When they reached the wall at the end of the corridor, Ruthra realized something was wrong. It wasn't a wall, but a solid glass door. Either it was covered with a black film or the glass itself was black. On the door was a sign that read: "You are seen, you are not." Alexander Ivanovich put his thumb nail to the device again, something rustled, and the door opened.
Ruthra was surprised at what he saw. It was a huge, two-level room, with a huge globe spinning in the middle of it. There were dozens of computers, different devices, and hundreds of screens arranged in several levels around the perimeter. Ruthra was even taken aback. What struck him most was the globe. It was a huge glowing globe that was projected as a three-dimensional image by a device from below. It showed in detail the topography not only of the land, but also of the ocean floor. And it was moving. Looking closely, Ruthra realized that it was slowly spinning on its axis. There were airplanes flying in the "sky"; tiny satellites hurtling along in their orbits. The artificial sun clearly separated day and night.
– What's up? Let's go," said Alexander Ivanovich.
– I didn't expect this. Where have we gotten to, Alexander Ivanovich?
– I already told you. Right in the center.
– And what is this center?
– Follow me. I'm an old man and my feet hurt, so don't ask too many questions.
Alexander Ivanovich was in his 85th year, he was a bit heavy, so it was hard for him. They walked to the end of the room. No one paid any attention to them, although there was no one to do so – the chairs behind the computers were empty.
They came to the door of the office, on which hung a sign with the inscription: NGTSOI. Alexander Ivanovich knocked and did not wait for an answer. They went into the room. There sat a vivacious grandfather in his sixties.
– Good afternoon, Yuri Vasilyevich!" Alexander Ivanovich greeted him.
– Oh-oh, what people! Good afternoon, Alexander Ivanovich! I've been waiting for you, waiting for you," he said, coming up to him, and they embraced, shaking hands firmly. – Sit down.
On the wall of the office was a huge panel on which cells showed images from surveillance cameras, including the entire path that Rutra and Alexander Ivanovich had traveled, several guard posts with similar screens, and a wide variety of surface views, from offices and building facades to areas of forest, tundra, and space.
– Here, meet him," said Alexander Ivanovich and pointed at Rutra. – Rutra Tigrovich Paskhov, that's him.
Yuri Vasilyevich smiled, looked intently at Rutra and said:
– What, was it illegal?
– I was," Ruthra replied.
– Under what last name? Or did you like that one and decided to keep it? Same first name, middle name?
Ruthra was silent. He had learned a lot over the years, namely that the system he was in was not what ordinary citizens thought of it, nor what they thought of the intelligence services. He was in a system where you had to hide the truth even from yourself. Sometimes he was so into the role that it seemed to him that he was the man whose legend he wore. Yuri Vasilyevich was still a stranger to him. Besides, this whole incident could have been another test.
Ruthra made a surprised face as if he didn't know what he was talking about.
– I realize you're keeping your mouth shut for security reasons. I realize it's the name that doesn't match, I've got an eye for it. It's clear that it doesn't match your origins. But why take a middle name like that? – Yuri Vasilyevich either inquired or questioned.
Rutra was surprised.
– That's the first time I've ever heard that.
– I see, school. The fact that you're here says a lot, but I'm afraid to disappoint you. You think you're gonna do here what you did there?
– Clearly not.
– That task is no less important now.
– What did I do before? – Ruthra asked bravely, though he was afraid in his heart.
It was the same as saying that Yuri Vasilyevich was not in command of the situation. Yuri Vasilyevich had the rank of colonel, which was clear from the photograph hanging on the wall. On it he was standing in an embrace with the president, which spoke of his high status. Alexander Ivanovich defused the situation:
– Why don't we have tea, Yuri Vasilyevich? He's a little "stuck"… I'll tell you all about it later.
Yuri Vasilyevich stood up, opened the safe, disguised by a photograph, and took out a bottle of cognac with Churchill's picture on it. "To drink tea" in the circle of especially gifted specialists meant to drink something stronger.
In another photo, Yuri Vasilyevich was young. He was sitting at a table in the company of border guards. Rutra's experienced eye noticed that they were photographed against the background of a map of Transcaucasia.
Yuri Vasilyevich took out a plate of sliced sausage and pickles, olives, and several bottles of Silver Key mineral water from the refrigerator.
– What you like," he said and showed the bottles to Alexander Ivanovich.
– Was it a present from him? – Alexander Ivanovich asked.
– From himself!
Rutra did not understand who they meant, but judging by their meaningful look, the cognac was given either by Churchill himself or by the man in the photo. Yuri Vasilyevich uncorked the bottle, poured it into crystal shot glasses, raised his own and said:
– Well, just our way.
They clinked glasses and drank. "Cleanly our way" meant that they drank cognac like vodka – no one was going to be ceremonious with the glasses.
They talked about the various operations they had participated in, but Rutra knew only the name of the places and the names of foreign and domestic officials. He was knowledgeable enough to keep up a conversation, which was what the older generation liked. A lot of things were new to him, though.
After the third Alexander Ivanovich said with a smile that he had had enough and that now Rutra would drink for him. Rutra didn't know what secret meaning he put into these words, but he realized that the old man obviously didn't mean the feast.
Yuri Vasilyevich held out the bottle and said:
– Come on, dose up! One more and I'll tell you about your new role.
After thinking for a bit, Ruthra said:
– It's hard for me to know whether to accept or refuse. After all, I have been invited to serve.
He had been through so many different tests so many times that he had developed a reflex, and so he decided to act openly.
– I realize that you've been abroad for a long time. I can't forget myself when I was in that situation, but remember: if a man doesn't drink even a shot, he's either an alcoholic or a traitor," Yuri smirked. – So take your pick.
Rutra liked brandy. He raised his shot glass.
After "tea" Yuri Vasilyevich invited them to the hall. On the way, Alexander Ivanovich said to Rutra:
– I helped you because I have plans for you.
He said this very sadly; it was obvious that he was having a hard time. Judging by the fact that Alexander Ivanovich was already quite old, Rutra realized that he would need some help.
– Goodbye, I'll go," said Alexander Ivanovich.
They shook hands, hugged Yuri Vasilyevich, and he went to the door, but not the one they had entered. Rutra watched him until Yuri Vasilyevich called out to him:
– Rutra Tigrovich, since we have met, I will explain one rule adopted in the center: the head of the center can address his subordinates as "you". The staff – only "you". Among ourselves – as the relationship develops. We have to get used to the servant attitude, so as not to give ourselves away among civilians. Although we're supposed to be a civilian service, just like the CIA. I hope you know what I mean.
– It's clear," Ruthra replied calmly.
– Come on then, I'll show your post.
He took him to the upper tier, where there was one office, all glass, from which the entire hall was visible. It was higher than the hall, and from there everyone could be monitored. Ruthra noticed that the sparse screens were showing some sort of images. Mostly they had similar diagrams on them. Ruthra took a closer look. Most of the computers in the room did indeed have diagrams on them. There were a few similar screens in his office, with diagrams on them as well.
– What is it? – Ruthra asked.
– What's the point of the world right now, you know? The world is not the same anymore, and you know very well that nobody wants to kill anybody. Everybody wants peace, everybody wants to be rich, enjoy life. Everyone has realized that there is no point in bombing and destroying each other, because, firstly, it will be worse for yourself, secondly, there is no guarantee that you will destroy someone, and you will remain intact, and thirdly, no one wants to take risks. Even if there's solid intel. Fourth, even if you destroy someone, you destroy a potential client. Everyone wants to do business, go out, get drunk, enjoy life, so now the war is here! – And he poked at the monitor.
– What is it? – Ruthra asked.
– This, my dear, is the pulse of the planet.
– What's the pulse of the planet?
– This chart shows what is happening, where and when, and most importantly, for how much. This is one of the main parts of our center's purpose – to keep track of not only who, what and where is doing or intending to do what, but also what is being done. Really doing. Where and from where finances, raw materials, materials and, most importantly, intellectual capital flow. Our center receives information from all resources that collect data. All the intelligence agencies, all over the world. We're interested in everything. Including personal data of social network users, basic financial and economic indicators of firms, corporations, countries as a whole. Also the usual spy data, which has always been of interest to spies, information of special importance. As you know, of course, information of special importance should include information in the field of military, foreign policy, economic, scientific and technical, intelligence and operational and investigative activities. We are interested not only in hidden, secret transactions, but also in open ones, for example, stock exchange transactions. As you realized, there are stock exchange terminals here. Are you surprised? You thought this was some kind of secret center you imagined? That's the thing, insider information is that kind of secret information. Well, for example, let's say a ship carrying a highly toxic chemical material is hijacked by terrorists and is headed to, say, the UK. It's a three-stage operation. The first is an intelligence and counterintelligence operation, which means knowing about it in advance. The second is infiltrate and capture. But you'll be working on the third stage. That is to deal with the consequences of such events yourself.
– I don't get it," Ruthra said, raising his eyebrows upward.
– Nobody knows how they do it. I mean, some homegrown terrorists could not, for example, organize serious terrorist attacks. You understand that for the average person they can bypass our service, but only a highly organized special service can really stand up to us. And so people live, work, rest, plan something and at some point they learn that a ship has been seized and is carrying chemical weapons. Let's say the ship arrived in port today. What will start happening there when people learn that there is a threat of explosion and contamination? Fuss, panic, flight of capital, flight of people. What happens to the stock market in this country? It will start to fall, the economy will collapse. What are the consequences? The country will become poorer, will not be able, for example, to finance scientific research and, as a consequence, in ten years it will fall hopelessly behind. And if someone prepared in advance, i.e. organized to make the shares get cheaper, then he can buy up half of the country. I'm exaggerating a little bit. But you know what I mean, don't you? There used to be total opposition. If a country's power was undermined, it was by direct "undermining." Simply put, it used to be a real bomb, now it's an information bomb. Of course, I am exaggerating a bit, but the general mechanism is as follows. But the most interesting and the most secret is not this information, not how it is obtained, not even the center itself and its existence at all!
Yuri Vasilyevich fell silent and looked at Rutra carefully.
– Why? – Ruthra asked, running through a hundred options in his head.
Yuri Vasilyevich took Rutra by the edge of his collar and quietly, as if it were an incantation, said:
– All this information comes here officially, openly. We don't spy on anyone, we don't infiltrate anywhere, we don't bribe anyone, we don't break ciphers and codes, we don't steal anything. Everything is handed over to us voluntarily. This is a center for tracking those who are tracking everyone according to their structural purpose. In this center, all intelligence and intelligence agencies are united. Only they don't know it themselves. They don't know that the information they gather comes here. They do not know that there is a center where information from all the world's services is processed, whether they are secret spy services or official civilian services. As our German colleague likes to say, "from the maternity hospital to the funeral parlor." Everything, everything, everything. You see why no one can know about us? And I'll tell you something else. This will come as a surprise to you.
The colonel fell silent again.
– What?" Ruthra asked quietly.
– We are supranational. We are not subordinate to the Russian government. We are not subordinate to anyone at all and could be in any country. Everyone is subordinate to us. Our center is the control center of all significant intelligence services, globally, and through them all governments. All the top leaders of intelligence agencies and secret governments are one group. The center has many branches and representative offices. The main ones are the official secret agencies of the countries themselves. That, my friend, is how our glorious world works now. Information no longer has to be mined and stolen. You can just negotiate. And someone's already done it.
– And who is this "someone"?
– You will learn a lot more. You'll realize what kind of world we live in," Vasilyevich answered, shaking his head. – Now tell me, whose family are you going to be?
– From who?
– The information about your appointment came a long time ago, but your background is vague. I can't check it, there's no authorization. If I did it myself, it would raise suspicion. Here you have access to the deepest secrets – even the control codes of enemy satellites, or the trust accounts of the secret services, or the DNA of the president's children. But if you pry unnecessarily, the system will flag you as "suspicious. If you don't justify yourself, you're dead. No one's gonna take any chances. The latest technology, with which you will become very familiar, will make it clear that it is impossible to hide anything. Besides, everything here is mixed up. Those you thought were enemies are comrades and friends, well, or partners. Fighting, feuding, it's a contract, a performance. If everything you find out, tell anyone, they won't believe you, and if they do, the world will turn upside down. We have to live as a family here, to trust each other, otherwise – you can go crazy. The family that's out there becomes something mundane…
Vasilievich jabbed his index finger upward.
– You can't and have no right to even stutter about what you do. Forget everything you know. It's a world of its own, its own culture, its own concepts. Although your spouse has a clearance level, she's being considered for administrator. In that, you may be lucky.
Ruthra was silent, listening.
– You and your wife must have met in the system?
– Why would you say that?
– Here, as in many intelligence agencies, most marry by decree, to a "local". I got married that way the first time too, and my current wife has no idea where I go. Your spouse has been served papers on you too, which is why I'm wondering whose you're from. It's rare for that to happen.
– Whose? I don't know, I got her involved somehow. The system approved it, even though she still only has administrative clearance.
– Our service is a service of control over everything and anything, as well as planning and forecasting. That's why you don't get here by blat, by acquaintance, or for the merits of your parents.
– What are you talking about?
– I'm trying to figure out which mafia.
– Mafia?
Ruthra even smiled.
– Just kidding.
