The young woman that came forward was petite in size, but athletic in appearance. Her dark eyes, fair complexion, and fiery-red hair were an unusual but attractive combination, at least as far as Samant was concerned. “This is my administrative assistant, Ms. Shereen Massoud, she’ll show you to your rooms and will answer any questions you may have about the consulate’s facilities. I’ll be sure to let you know when Dr. Patterson is available.”
Olson then excused himself; he said he needed to pass Petrov’s recommendation up his chain of command. Massoud politely greeted the guests, then sat down as they finished eating. Petrov brooded silently as he mindlessly chewed on his sandwich, still struggling with the disappointing news. Samant was gloomy, but he wasn’t as affected as his Russian friend. He’d seen important tasks move slowly before. Recognizing that they were being rude, Samant politely exchanged small talk with the young woman while he finished his meal.
“How long have you been stationed in India?” he asked.
“A little over two years,” Massoud replied. “It’s been a great tour, and I’ve learned a lot, but I am looking forward to getting back home.”
“Homesick, are we?”
“Sort of, sir.” Massoud looked a little uncomfortable. “Sure, I miss my family, but, honestly, I’m not a big fan of the spicy food. And it’s hard to find a good hamburger in a country where the cow is considered sacred. However, your country has a killer lemonade.”
“Ah, so you like Panaka?” Samant chuckled as he referred to the lemon-based drink made with jaggery and pepper.
“Hell, yeah!” exclaimed Massoud. Immediately regretting her outburst, she rushed her hand to her mouth. Blushing, she apologized, “Excuse me, I mean, yes, sir.”
Samant laughed out loud, and even Petrov had to smile over the young lady’s enthusiastic response. With their meal finished, Massoud showed the two men their rooms. Samant was duly impressed with the suite; it was almost as big as his apartment in Vizag. While inspecting the bathroom he spied the shower — the very thought of hot water washing over him was seductive. He sat on the bed and slowly removed his shoes; he then lay down and stretched his weary body out fully on the mattress. I’ll just rest here for a minute, Samant thought. He didn’t make it to the shower.
Frustration, exasperation, vexation… Patterson mentally ran down the list of synonyms for her feelings as she paced impatiently around the conference table. She just couldn’t comprehend how a national leader could be so blasé about something so serious. Did he just not get it? Lloyd was sympathetic, but his explanation earlier that morning did nothing to make her feel any better.
“President Handa is making a compromise, Joanna,” argued Lloyd. “We’ll brief him today, but it will be after sunset, his time, so he can complete most of his religious obligations. The fact that he’s agreed to listen to us at all today is a major concession.”
“Potentially a very costly one, Mr. Secretary. I’m quite certain Admiral Dhankhar has made very good use of the thirty hours this delay has cost us!”
Ten minutes before noon the secure VTC links between the three locations were synchronized and the audio and video channels checked. Patterson could see Olson, Samant, and Petrov on the left-hand screen. On the right-hand screen were the deputy chief of mission and the naval attaché. Ambassador Robert Eldridge had gone to greet President Handa at the embassy’s main entrance. The ambassador had warned Secretary Lloyd that the Indian president was irritated with the “ill-timed summons,” and that only the promised presence of President Myles at the meeting had convinced the Indian to cut short his holiday.
The Indians were still grateful to the Americans for clearing them as the source of the Kashmir explosion. The ambassador had used that to his advantage to convince the Indian leadership that they really needed to come to the U.S. embassy and listen to what those “same Americans” had to say. The kindest Indian reaction had been “This better be important.” Lloyd reassured Eldridge that the information the U.S. government was going to provide would be worth the diplomatic capital expended.
Patterson looked again at her notes. She knew the content by heart, but the flow of the briefing had been modified and she wanted to make sure she stayed on script. Myles had insisted that she present the information to the Indian president. A scientist, not a diplomat, had to be the messenger. The president also wanted to keep Petrov and Samant offscreen at first. Their presence had “shock value” for President Myles, and he wanted to use that shock to drive home their difficult message to Handa. It was critical that they apply the blow at the right time; thus, Samant and Petrov would not be brought on until after the evidence had been presented.
With five minutes to go, President Myles walked into the situation room and greeted his staff. He then dismissed everyone not participating in the VTC. Only four people would be in view during the virtual meeting. Myles didn’t want to overwhelm the Indian contingent by sheer force of numbers. A couple of minutes later, the naval attaché gestured to the screen and said, “Stand by.”
Myles signaled for everyone to stand. The secretaries of defense and state flanked the president, while Joanna stood offset behind Lloyd.
“Attention on deck!” sang out the navy captain.
Joanna watched as Eldridge appeared on the screen, followed by four Indians. Handa was tall for an Indian, and easily stood out from the rest of his countrymen. His face was weathered, with deep furrows on his forehead, and while he had most of his hair, it was snowy white and cropped short. The tightly clipped white goatee complemented his sharp facial features, giving him an air of authority. He carefully positioned himself in the center of the table and gave the traditional Indian greeting of “Namaste” with a slight bow. Joanna noticed the restrained frown and pursed lips. The man was not happy.
Myles reciprocated by putting the palms of his hands together, bowing, and repeating the word “Namaste.” Then, speaking carefully, he greeted the Indian head of state.
“President Handa, I very much appreciate your presence here this evening, and I regret having to take you away from your family during this special holiday. I know it is a considerable sacrifice on your part, but I would not insist on this video conference if the matter were not of the utmost urgency and importance.”
The Indian took a deep breath, pausing to keep his emotions in check. “President Myles, I must admit that I’m not in a particularly pleasant mood. The observance of the Festival of Ram Navami challenges us to focus our attention on our family — being together, fasting and praying, is vital to our future happiness and prosperity. And to break with those sacred activities prematurely is… most annoying.
“Ambassador Eldridge has been steadfast is his urgings that I come to the U.S. embassy to hear your concerns about this so-called nuclear crisis. I’m not accustomed to being summoned by a foreign government in my own country, nor do I appreciate being instructed as to whom can accompany me.”
Joanna fought hard not to wince; the Indian president had good reason to be upset. Both his deeply held religious beliefs and his pride had been badly bruised. She wondered just what Eldridge had said to the elder statesman.
“Mr. President, I completely understand your irritation, and it is I, not Ambassador Eldridge, you need to direct your anger toward. He was just following the strict orders I gave him. And it is I who owes you a most sincere apology for my actions. As for the ‘summons,’ it was unavoidable. The information we are prepared to give you is highly classified, and our nations’ secure communications systems are not compatible. In time we could have worked this out, but we do not have the luxury of time.