His mother looked at the name. “Does that mean anything to you?”
He grasped the paper tightly and gave her a kiss. “Mom you did well. This is all I need in order to help Carol.”
“You really think that you can help her then?”
“Yes I can help her. I need to think for a minute about what I need to do.” I could call Deshano and Bumgardner and we probably could figure out where she is and then work with Dimochka to muster up a mission to rescue her. He was pacing around the kitchen table while his mother attempted to thread a needle. Or I could call Dimochka directly and skip an entire step. In the end Dimochka is the key to this and Carol knew it. That’s why she had Mom write down his name. I should hop down to Somalia, hunt him up and get a mission underway to save her. He saw her trembling hands with the needle. “Let me do that for you.” He threaded the needle and handed it back to her.
He needed to weigh his options. He was a few minutes away from BWI-Marshall and his Citation CJ3 was parked there. He could be off for Somalia in ten minutes. The president had the entire Cabinet that would be there for Operation OMAN. Whether he was there or not made little difference. Every minute could be critical for Carol.
This was a person he had not seen or talked to in twenty-three years but he could very well be the only one who cared enough to help her. She kept in touch all these years through his mother and he never gave it a thought. Now suddenly when she was in trouble she became important to him. He probably would not recognize her when he saw her. Was she frumpy looking? It was difficult to imagine her not being anything but pretty, perhaps beautiful. It did not matter. He was “Uncle Houston” to her, the little girl who swung on the gate and always welcomed him with kisses.
He could make a phone call to the general and then leave it up to him. It was unlikely that she had ever met him. The Russian invasion involved tens of thousands of military Red Cross and NATO multinationals. He doubted that most of his militia had ever met him — the Red Cross workers even less so. If he made a phone call to the general it could amount to little more than placing a report into a database and then lost forever — one of thousands of reports that became lost in the system.
He imagined himself calling everyday and being stiff-armed by a low level clerk.
“Hello. Oh it is you again. Sorry we haven’t any news for you. Goodbye.”
I have weighed my options. I must go and personally take care of this. He called his pilot and told him to get to BWI immediately. I should call Dimochka now. It could be that he has already taken care of this. He called Deshano as he could obtain a phone number in half a minute.
“Robinson here. I need a phone number of a General Dimochka the commander of the Somali Russian operation.”
Pause.
“I’ll have that for you shortly. Is there anything going on I should know about?”
A Red Cross worker was kidnapped and I am following it up. I’m thinking about flying over there and take care of it myself.”
“Is she a friend of yours?”
“I knew her many years ago and she called my number for help. I’m simply going to make a few phone calls and see what is happening.”
“Here is that number. 444–185 922-2954. Use an encrypted satellite uplink.”
“I’ve got it. Could you try and patch me through right now?”
“Dialing right now.”
He listened to the dial up. There was nothing but static. “We’ve got nothing right now.”
“Thanks. There is a good chance I won’t be around for the fireworks tonight. If I’m not there, tell Landenberger I’m doing PR with the Russians in Somalia.”
“No problem and good luck.”
That was it for now. He could fiddle around making phone calls or get on his jet and make calls from there. With any luck he would have Russian troops at his disposal the moment he landed. If the general took any interest at all he would be armed with information as to the whereabouts of Carol.
“Mom — I’m going to find Carol and see that she is safe.”
“You are a good son. Say ‘hi’ to Carol for me when you see her.”
He gave her a kiss on the cheek and was off to Somalia.
Chapter Twenty-six
Landenberger took the biggest risk of his presidency.
Operation OMAN would launch him into the history books as one of the greatest presidents of all time or write down the day as another Bay of Pigs, better forgotten by all.
The OC was abuzz with activity.
Five-star generals communicated with the commanders of the submarines and aircraft carriers that would carry out the mission. Nearly two hundred technicians transmitted satellite uplinked data from CENTCOM to the screens in the Pentagon OC. It was an overwhelming force meant to take back the supertankers that had been hijacked by Somali pirates the month before.
Never in American history had such an immense maritime operation ever been attempted. Virtually every nuclear sub became a part of the mission: the USS Virginia, the USS Texas, the USS Hawaii, the USS North Carolina, the USS New Hampshire, the New Mexico, and the Missouri. The aircraft carriers would follow up the initial battle with the evacuation of the hostages with dozens of Apaches and Super Cobras. In all, nearly twenty thousand Navy, and Marines were engaged in the largest single operation since D-Day. Deshano, Bumgardner, Costanzo, and Vice President Prottenger were on hand and lent support to President Landenberger.
Deshano sat at the back overlooking the operation with the president. “Robinson said he had to do some PR work with the Russians in Somalia. He wanted to be here, but a Red Cross worker, a personal friend, had been taken hostage and he felt he was needed there. It was a matter of life and death.”
“He knew there would be many others here and his talents would be better used elsewhere.” Landenberger reached for a cup of coffee. “I would not want to be on the other end of his wrath. His dossier with the CIA reads like a James Bond novel.”
Bumgardner ran over to the pair and he handed a computer printout to Landenberger. “These are details on the drop-off procedure. Each sub had been dropping off SEALS teams on a schedule. Ideally there would be a sub for each team. When destinations are around a hundred miles apart and there are a limited number of subs, we needed to generate a computer program to figure out the schedule. I only mention this as a point of interest. When the USS Virginia makes the final drop on schedule we will be ready to deploy the entire operation on your order. We have set 8:00 p.m. as the moment to deploy our forces. It will be 4 a.m. in the Gulf of Oman of course.”
“It sounds like the generals have it all well in hand.” He studied the printout. “I must admit that much of this is beyond my expertise.”
“No one would ever expect you to have direct knowledge of all the intricacies, Mr. President. This is a bold initiative on your part and all the men and women are behind you on this and are going to do everything in their power to make Operation OMAN a success.”
Prottenger cleaned his spectacles with a white handkerchief. “When this is over I would hope that this is the last of Somali pirating. No one would ever believe a year ago that it would come to this.” He held the spectacles up to the light and rubbed at a piece of dust
Deshano added, “I think this is the last of it. The Russians made Somalia too hot for Mahdi. He is slipperier than a Cajun catfish. One day we will discover where he is hiding and fry him in a skillet.”