Divide & Conquer by Murray McDonald

twenties maybe early thirties when the shot had been taken. He could see from the summary that James Fox was already a rising star in the American Military - three tours in Vietnam and Congressional Medal of Honor winner, the American military’s highest honor. A full Colonel, one of the youngest ever, he was singled out as a future military chief and thanks to his aristocratic background, a potential political career beyond that. James Fox was a man going places and had been identified by the Washington GRU station chief at that time as a man of interest.
    As he turned the page, his phone rang. Borodin grabbed at it.
    “I’m very sorry General…” started the records chief.
    “We all need to take a shit!” boomed Borodin, laughing. “I’ve sent Vasiliy down to get a file for me, make sure he gets it.”
    “Of course, General,” replied the records chief. “I wasn’t on the toilet,” he tried to explain but the General had already gone.
    Borodin read on. It seemed that James Fox’s career had gone exactly as the GRU had anticipated right up until the accident that claimed him and his wife. Not even fifty thought, Borodin, what a waste.
    Borodin got up and poured himself a vodka from his drinks cabinet. It had been a long morning and was going to be an even longer day. He wondered where Vasiliy had got to, just as the phone rang.
    “Yes!” he barked.
    “General, I’m very sorry.” It was the records chief, his mousey voice more pathetic than normal. “The records you requested cannot be brought to you, Sir.”
    “Rubbish! Send them up with Vasiliy!” he barked before replacing the handset firmly enough to ensure the records chief knew he had been hung up on.
    Borodin’s phone rang again. “I’m sorry…” started the records chief.
    “Now!” demanded Borodin, losing his patience and slamming the phone into its cradle.
    The phone rang again. Borodin looked at it with fury. He lifted it and was relieved to hear Vasiliy’s voice. Had the records chief spoken, Borodin could not have controlled his actions.
    “General, I’m sorry,” began Vasiliy.
    “Do not tell me you can’t get the file!” warned Borodin sternly.
    “General, you don’t understand, it’s not that we won’t, we physically can’t.” explained Vasiliy.
    “Sorry?” replied Borodin beginning to understand this was not about defiance or his lack of authority.
    “If you could just come down please, General. You will understand.”
    Borodin got up from his desk and stomped along the corridor to his own private elevator. His was only one of two elevators that offered the option to every floor within the massive and ultra modern GRU headquarters. This was no relic of the Soviet empire. This was a symbol of modern Russia’s power and ambition. Borodin hit B6 and waited as the elevator rushed him down to the very bowels of the structure, available to only a handful of staff members.
    Vasiliy met him at the elevator’s door, the records chief standing a good ten yards further away. Borodin noted he looked exactly as he had envisaged, small and somewhat mole like, perfect for his underground environment.
    “Well, show me what all this fuss is about.”
    The records chief led the way, quickly followed by Vasiliy and then Borodin. A number of blast proof doors separated the vast rooms of paperwork they passed through. It was only after the third door that Borodin actually realized they were walking in a slight curve and ever so slightly downhill.
    “How far is it?” he asked as doors led off into the distance.
    “Not much further,” promised Vasiliy.
    After a couple of minutes, they reached another elevator. Borodin looked at Vasiliy and the records chief.
    “Where does this go?” he asked with some consternation, stopping himself from asking why doesn’t mine go there?
    “All three got into what turned out to be a very small space and rode another thirty feet towards the earth’s core. As the door opened, Borodin began to