The highest form of war is to break the enemy’s plans; the worst is to besiege walled cities.
I paced the office and joined two thoughts of Sun Tzu. The apple on the neighbor’s branch isn’t ripe: the stem holds. But soon it will dry and the fruit will fall into my palm. I was briefed: the old bear is restless, America got its pipeline, and in the Kremlin, rumor says, sits a double while the real tsar lies in a freezer with the sturgeons. I ordered him lured out of his den for our Olympics and tested genetically.
I brought four folders: red, blue, grey, and black. I gave the essence in one minute. “The old bear is restless. Once he just licked his paw in his bunker.”
I pressed the button, as required. I brought the folders by color. I read nothing. I closed the door.
The double has summoned all Moscow police and is restructuring prison resources. But while he believes he’s running the game, a thread is already stretching from Beijing. And his wife, they say, is doing more than painting walls.
Read the complete story in “Putin in Freezer.” This page contains only a short excerpt; the book has the rest.
Read the full book