“Ma’am, I’m paid to give my professional opinion, based on the information I have and my knowledge and experience.” Freeman sighed. “The President can take my advice, adopt it, reject it, fire me, or hire someone else. If he tells me to jump, I’ll salute and ask ‘How high?’ but I’ll also give him my thoughts and opinions on the way up and on the way down.”
“I think you need to step back and reevaluate your priorities here, General,” she replied coldly, glaring at her husband as if to say, We’ve got to get rid of him.
“I didn’t start this conflict, ma’am, and I didn’t set the limits. But we’ve got two dead U.S. airmen now, and an important ally that, I feel, is going to get nailed any minute now. We need to formulate a plan.” He turned to the President and concluded earnestly, “I’ll do whatever you want, sir. I’m on your team. Just tell me what you want to do.”
The phone rang again and the President shook his head. The Chief of Staff answered it, then put the caller on hold. “Sir, it’s Valentin Sen’kov, calling from Moscow.”
“Tell him to call back later.”
“He says it’s urgent.”
The President was going to refuse again, but this time the First Lady reached over and took the phone. “Dobriy vyechyeer, Valentin. Kak dyela?” She listened for a moment, then turned on the speakerphone and set the receiver back on its cradle. “I’ve got you on speaker-phone with the President and some members of his staff, Valentin. Go ahead and repeat what you just told me.”
“Dear,” the President said irritably, “what in hell do you think you’re doing?” Along with feeling as if he were being pulled apart by the flurry of voices and activity around him, adding the pompous Sen’kov’s voice to the soup wasn’t going to help. He also didn’t like his wife’s growing proficiency in Russian, especially when Sen’kov was involved.
“I am very sorry to disturb you, Mr. President,” Sen’kov said on the speakerphone, “but I feel this is very urgent. I know you just called President Velichko. I must inform you that Velichko is no longer in Moscow. He is on the underground railway to the alternate military command center at Domodedovo.”
“What?”
“Why is he doing that, Valentin?” the First Lady asked. “We’re not doing anything here. We don’t have any operations planned against Russia.”
“Ma’am, please,” Freeman admonished her. “That’s an open line!” She ignored him.
“I do not have precise information, sir,” Sen’kov continued, “but I believe he has evacuated the Kremlin. He is very disturbed about the attacks over the Black Sea, and I fear he might retaliate immediately.”
“Retaliate? How? When?”
“I do not know,” Sen’kov said. “I cannot talk longer, sir. But I must say this: Velichko is unstable. The military will follow him, but they are ambivalent and are simply looking for leadership. They will follow Velichko into Hell … or they will follow me into true reform and progress. Mr. President, I am asking for your assistance. I know precisely where Velichko will be thirty minutes from now. I am sure your CIA has detailed information on Domodedovo. You have bombers in Turkey, cruise missile submarines in the Aegean and Mediterranean, and intercontinental ballistic missiles. Destroy Domodedovo. Kill Velichko before he starts World War Three.”
“Sen’kov, are you insane?” the President retorted. “I’m not about to use nuclear weapons to kill the leader of a nation.”
“I am sorry, Mr. President, I can speak no more,” Sen’kov said. “I will be in contact with you later,” and the line went dead.
The President and his advisers looked at the telephone with stunned expressions, as if the device had just come alive and was squirming on the desk. Finally, after a long silence, the President’s advisers began to speak. Harlan Grimm said, “He’s totally out of line, Mr. President.”
“I don’t think that’s a viable option, sir,” Scheer said. “It’s totally out of character for an American president to specifically target a national leader.”
“I think it’s the first good suggestion I’ve heard in days,” Philip Freeman said.
“General Freeman, are you insane or just having some kind of a nervous breakdown?” the First Lady asked. “Are you trying to be funny? The man just suggested that we try to assassinate Velichko with a nuclear bomb.”
“I can’t think of a better thing to do, a better weapon to use, and a more rotten person to use it on,” Freeman said. To the President he said, “Sir, we had a great victory in Desert Storm, but we suffered one major defeat — we missed Saddam Hussein. That decision, although it seemed appropriate and right and moral then, we now regard as a major mistake. Saddam cost this country a lot when he rose up again two years ago.
“Vitaly Velichko will do the same thing. I truly believe that Velichko will not stop until he precipitates a third world war, or until NATO knuckles under and allows him to take the Ukraine, the Baltic States, and Georgia back under Russian rule. He has used nuclear weapons, and I truly believe he will continue to do so. If we target Velichko now in his bunker in Domodedovo, we’ll get him and kill perhaps a few thousand more.”
“And risk a massive nuclear retaliation by the Russians,” the First Lady declared, her eyes burning on Freeman.
“Not in my opinion, ma’am,” Freeman said. “If we get Velichko and members of his cabinet and the military command, and get the codes, no attack will take place. If Sen’kov really can take control of the government and the military — and I think he can — he might be able to head off any kind of nuclear retaliation. But if we don’t do it, Velichko will continue to escalate the conflict, hoping we’ll back down. Ultimately we’ll be forced into a corner and have to resort to a massive nuclear attack on Russia to make the conflict stop. Instead of stopping the conflict after killing only a few thousand — far less than the Ukraine has already suffered — hundreds of millions might die in an all-out nuclear exchange.”
The President rubbed his eyes wearily as the First Lady and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff shot glares at each other. After several long moments, the President opened a red-covered folder on his desk — it was the Pentagon’s joint analysis of the progression of the conflict and a list of recommended military options. “Tell us what you’re thinking, Mr. President,” Secretary of State Harlan Grimm said.
“I want …” the President began, swallowed, took a deep breath, and wondered how in the hell history would judge him for what he was about to do. This was the most critical event of his Administration so far. The people of the country had short memories, but history did not. He had gotten into politics and run for office because he’d wanted to put his stamp on America. He had run for President and won against all odds because he’d wanted to shake things up after the complacent four years of George Bush and the eight years of Ronald Reagan’s Armageddon view of reality concerning what the American military really needed. But he had never, never been pushed to the wall like this. And history was waiting, calling him to respond as so many presidents had been forced to do before him … from Truman to Kennedy to Reagan to Bush. “I want this fucking war to stop, right now,” the President continued. “I want Russia to immediately cease all overflights and patrols threatening our allies. I want Russia to immediately begin a pullback of all ground forces out of the Ukraine and Moldova. I want Russia to immediately withdraw their Black Sea warships to Russian ports—”
“And if they don’t, Mr. President?”