MOSCOW, 2025
In the 15th underground level of a Central Moscow government building, a Russian secret committee convenes under dim lights. Cigarette smoke drifts over a massive oval table as men in dark suits murmur over glasses of dark liquid. Among them is
Mironow — officially “retired,” unofficially indispensable. He is tasked with keeping the Alaska meeting under control, whatever it takes.
I am Special Agent Mironow, former General KGB Markow.
Both my names are fictional.