“Stand by. I am unable to maintain heading or altitude. I can see a range of hills ahead of me.”
“You’re just about forty-two kilometers away. You are cleared to land runway ten left. Surface wind easterly at five meters per second.”
“Four zero nine, number one engine failure,” said the captain, trying not to sound desperate. “Unable to reignite either engine. I am now gliding.”
“You’re now thirty kilometers from the field. Once you’ve cleared those hills, there’s nothing but flat grassland ahead of you. Emergency services are on standby.”
“Roger. I can see a gap in the hills. If I can’t reach the runway, I’ll make an emergency landing.” He pressed a button to lower the landing gear, but the wheels didn’t respond. He hit the button again, but they remained stubbornly in place. He flicked another switch as the plane continued to descend.
“Attention, this is the captain speaking. We are about to make an emergency landing. Fasten your seatbelts and assume the brace position now.”
Alexander turned to look at his family, and felt guilty that he’d allowed his ambition to override their safety. But even he hadn’t realized just how far Vladimir would go to ensure he had no serious rivals for the presidency.
The plane was now spinning out of control, down, down, down, in ever decreasing circles, until it finally smashed into the side of the hill, and burst into flames, killing the crew and all its passengers.
An elite team of Russian paratroopers were on the scene within minutes, but then they’d been on standby for several hours. Once they had located the black box, they disappeared back into the forest.
Another aircraft continued on its flight to Saint Petersburg, unaware of the tragedy.
* * *
When the plane touched down at Pulkovo airport, Alexander peered out of the cabin window to see acres of flat grassland. In the distance, tall gray concrete blocks dominated the skyline.
The plane swung around and came to a halt in front of the terminal, but it wasn’t until the engines had been turned off that he heard the chanting, “Kar-pen-ko! Kar-pen-ko! Kar-pen-ko!”
He looked back at his family, and gave them a reassuring smile which Elena didn’t return. The cabin door was opened, and the steps lowered into place. Alexander emerged into the pale fading sunlight. Nothing could have prepared him for what was about to happen.
He was greeted by a mass of people, stretching as far as the eye could see, all chanting, “Kar-pen-ko! Kar-pen-ko!” He instinctively raised an arm in acknowledgment, and a sea of hands waved back.
At the bottom of the steps stood a reception party, led by the mayor and his senior staff. As Alexander began to walk down the steps, the noise reached a crescendo, and he wasn’t sure how to react to such unbridled enthusiasm. He looked back to see his family following him down the steps, his mother apprehensive, his wife bemused, while his only child seemed to be enjoying every moment.
As he set foot on the tarmac, a roar went up that no Russian president had ever experienced. The mayor stepped forward and shook hands warmly with the prodigal son.
“Welcome back to Saint Petersburg, Alexander. Even in our wildest dreams, we didn’t anticipate this. The chief of police estimates that over a hundred thousand of your fellow countrymen have come out to welcome you back to your homeland. This show of support should leave you in no doubt how many people want you to be our next presid
ent.”
“Thank you,” said Alexander, unable to find the words to express how he felt at that moment.
“Perhaps you would like to say a few words to your loyal supporters,” suggested the mayor. “Most of whom have been waiting for several hours.”
“I wasn’t prepared for such a welcome,” admitted Alexander, but his words couldn’t be heard above the chants of “Kar-pen-ko! Kar-pen-ko!”
The mayor led him toward a small rostrum that had been erected on the edge of the runway. Although he was surrounded by a hundred thousand people all chanting his name, Alexander had never felt more alone in his life. He had to wait several minutes before the crowd had settled enough to make it possible for him to address them, which at least allowed him a little time to gather his thoughts.
“My fellow countrymen,” he began, “how do I begin to thank you for such an overwhelming welcome? A welcome that has inspired me to dream on your behalf. But for that dream to become a reality, I will need every one of you to also work on my behalf.”
Once again, the chanting and cries erupted, confirming their willingness to do so. He made no attempt to continue until the crowd had fallen silent again.
“I have long believed that Russia is capable of taking its rightful place among the leading nations of the world, but to achieve this, we must finally remove the shackles of dictatorship, and ensure that the nation’s great wealth is shared among the many, rather than being allowed to line the pockets of the few. Let us at last release our latent genius so the world is no longer fearful of our military might, but instead is in awe of our peacetime achievements. Why are the British described as world leaders when they are smaller than our smallest state? Because they box above their weight. Why is America always described as the leader of the free world? Because we are not free. That freedom is now within our grasp, so let us embrace it together.” He raised his arms high in the air, and once again it was several minutes before he was able to continue.
As he looked down at the expectant faces gazing up at him, he tried not to let their adulation sway his judgment, although he knew that an opportunity like this might never happen again, and that he needed to take advantage of it. He leaned forward until his lips were almost touching the microphone, and there followed a stillness he realized could only last for a few moments before the spell would be broken.
“It is my father, not I, who should be standing here receiving your acclamation. He risked his life defending this city against our common enemy, for which a grateful nation awarded him the Defence of Leningrad. But now we face a more insidious enemy, who has no morals, no scruples, and whose only interest is self-interest. These were the men who murdered my father because he wanted to set up a union to protect the rights of his fellow workers. Greedy, selfish men who represent no one other than themselves.”
The hush that had fallen over the crowd was almost palpable.
“My fellow countrymen, I have not returned to the land of my birth to seek revenge, but to follow in my father’s footsteps. Inspired by your belief in me, my only wish is to serve you. I will therefore allow my name to go forward for the highest office in the land, and seek to become your president.”