War with Russia

“We’ve got a puzzling case here and I need some help from the Brits. I know you’re here to advise our Special Tasks Unit, but you have access to other agencies in the UK, and time is short. The police found the bodies of the two leaders of the Latvian Russian Union, Petrov and Zadonov, by the Monument of Freedom in the early hours this morning. It seemed that there’d been in a drunken fight; there were smashed beer and vodka bottles lying around and their throats had been slashed. But on closer inspection, both their necks had been broken. And, I have to say, most professionally. But what is really interesting is that when they were examined properly in the mortuary, they found the insignia of the Latvian Legion—those were the two SS divisions recruited in Latvia by the Nazis to fight the Russians during the last war—cut into their chests above their hearts.”

“OK…” said Morland, not yet sure what was required from him. For an infantry recce platoon commander, he was way out of his comfort zone.

“It’s pretty clear the Russians are behind this. We’ve been watching them applying the usual propaganda and disinformation operations to undermine and discredit Latvia for some time now. And my colleagues in Lithuania and Estonia report the same. So far, so normal. Or at least, our version of normal. But in the last week, the leaders of the Latvian Russian Union have stepped up their activity in advance of tomorrow’s demonstration. We know they’ve been talking to a Russian who’s recently arrived in country. He’s new and we’ve been watching him, of course. However, we could do with your team’s support in monitoring tomorrow’s demonstration. All indications are that it will get out of control. I’m appointing a liaison officer from my service to work with you. She’s outside waiting. I’ll introduce you now and you can get to work straight away.”

Bērziņš pressed a switch on his intercom. “Please ask Marina to come in.”

The door opened and a stunning woman walked in.

Morland looked her in the eye as coolly as he could. She was a couple of inches short of six foot, long ash-blonde hair, high cheekbones and radiating physical fitness. He’d have put money on her being a distance runner or a cross-country skier. Or both.

Her eyes held his gaze in turn; greeny blue, steady and appraising him without any hint of embarrassment.

Morland looked away and caught the humor in Bērziņš’s eyes. The old fox knew full well the effect Marina would have. But Morland was not going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Marina Krauja, meet Captain Tom Morland. Tom, I’ve told the Service to give you all the support you need. Miss Krauja is your point of contact and will work with you while you are in Latvia.”

She extended her hand. “Delighted to meet you,” she said, in perfect English.

“Tom Morland. How do you do.” He shook hands with her before turning back to Bērziņš. “Sir, we’ll head back to Ādaži now. I’ll brief the Permanent Joint Headquarters from there and we’ll put together a plan.” He turned to Krauja. “Shall we get going?”

“Captain, can I suggest we take my car?” said Krauja. “That way we can talk. And we’ll need to be independent.”

“Good call,” agreed Morland, aware that honors were currently even and that neither of them had acceded command to the other. If Bērziņš was enjoying the duel, he kept his face impassive as he turned back to the pile of paperwork on his desk.

Morland quizzed Krauja on the way back to Ādaži. If they were to work together, he wanted to know something about her. He quickly discovered that her English was the result of a degree in English Literature at Durham, where she’d won a scholarship. She’d then worked for Goldman Sachs in London for a couple of years, before tiring of the City and heading back to Riga to serve her country.

Morland asked her about Ukraine, Russia and the threat to the Baltic states. Again, he got the same line. “There’s no question,” she replied. “The President is working up to something. All the indicators are there.”

Morland was surprised by how emphatic she was, but after only three weeks in country, he was also developing an uneasy feeling that when highly intelligent and cosmopolitan Latvians like Bērziņš and Krauja were so convinced of the President’s bad faith, then they might just be right.

“Our history has made us deeply suspicious of Russian intentions,” she continued. “Another time you should visit the Museum of Occupation in Riga. Then you’ll understand that there’s not a family in Latvia which wasn’t affected in some way by the Russian occupation of Latvia during World War Two, or the Soviet occupation that followed. My mother was born in a Siberian labor camp after my grandparents were deported in the 1950s. They were eventually released, but my grandparents never recovered… and tens of thousands never came back.”

Morland was humbled into silence as he realized that as a Brit, he could not begin to understand what the Latvians had been through in the not-so-distant past.