Moscow Machination

Ian Maxwell Moscow Machination

To the nukes that keep us safe

Chapter 1

Shenzhen, Southern China

The sleek, black train rushed out of Shenzhen Station just like any other CSR train. The train, the CRH400A was on its third voyage from Shenzhen to Beijing via other speed worthy clusters. Six days ago on its maiden voyage, there had been a bevy of party officials and media types doing their thing. But today was different. Today was all about routine. All about that vaunted Chinese efficiency.

However the CRH400A, unlike the other trains, was indigenously built, using indigenous corporations, indigenous labor, indigenous materials and critically, indigenous technologies.

Ever since the inception of its high speed rail program, Beijing had been at the mercy of its international partners — Germany and Japan. Initially, the program had had inputs from several European nations as well as Japan. However, over time, the Japanese and Germans — duh, through sheer innovation had snuffed out the competition. Technical aspects of this innovation had come down to Macau, Politburo Members and some skanky Audis.

Miffed at the turn of events, the other nations had come up with sweeteners and concessions of their own. But despite their best efforts, only the Canadians had got the nod.

“Mais pourquoi??” the French Ambassador had wailed, “But why??”

“Monsieur, the Canadians, they understand us better. They gave us what we really want…” the Chinese Minister had replied.

“Qu’Est-ce que c’est… what is it?”

“Vancouver.”

“What?”

“Yeah, they gave us the entire City of Vancouver… and we looove Vancouver. We really do…”

Thus the Germans, Japanese and Canadians had ended up as the ‘preferred tech partners’ of the Chinese high speed rail effort.

But unlike the trains based on foreign technology, this, the CRH400A was China’s baby. With a cruising speed of 400Km/hr the homegrown CRH400A was four percent faster than the French TGV, three percent lighter than the Japanese Shinkansen and five percent cheaper than anything out of Bavaria. This transformational leap in performance had been achieved by adding a super-secret sauce. Beijing called it legal experimentation with partner technologies.

The Germans and Japanese called it theft. The duo even hired historians to prove that this theft of IP was the largest heist in history — bigger than the Amber Room, better than the great train robbery, slicker than a Ponzi scheme. In the end, only the fear of getting shut out of the burgeoning Chinese economy had forced the partners to let it slide.

Of course all that had changed, once Beijing began pitching its train sets against the Shinkansen for international contracts. The twin losses of Mexico and Indonesia to the CRH400A had been the final straw.

After thinking long over Sake and hard under an Ethiopian beauty, the Japanese Foreign Minister, Yoshi Yamazaki had decided to go kamikaze. It was time to put an end to this Chinese adventurism. Time to end the decades of Japanese slumber. Time to go kamikaze again. The Japanese Foreign Minister had then drunk texted his German counterpart, “Let’s get even.”

* * *

At 6.15AM, Viktor Volokov pulled the black Audi A6 to the road’s shoulder. He double checked his odometer and looked out for the markings on the chain link fence protecting the high speed track. Volokov hit the boot release button as his partner Marko jumped out and headed to the trunk. Volokov killed the engine.

Driving a Made in China automobile, Volokov and Marko were dressed in black suits, ties and shoes — again, all Made in China. Their aim was to impart to the causal Chinese observer that they were Party people. Probably provincial, but still bad Party people.

Pyotr Primakov their mission planner, up in Moscow, had surmised that no one would have the rank to question a black Audi A6 squat in the middle of Guangdong’s industrial belt.

The Shenzhen — Guangzhou high speed line sliced through gigantic manufacturing facilities on either side. On the west were the automakers while the east was filled with undergarment makers.

Primakov, during his research, had become enamored with a certain factory that was about to produce the world’s first smart-underwear. Apparently it made everything fly-by-wire down under. No moving parts. Airbus vs Boeing all over again. Primakov had wondered if it would carry a ‘Designed in California. Assembled in China’ tag at the crack.

Presently, the roads were largely deserted as the midnight shift was still due for a few more hours.