“Certainly not to my face, Duke.” She pulled her hand back with a smile, turned away, and left his office, aware of his eyes on her every step of the way.
18
President of the United States Jack Ryan would have normally called in his entire National Security Council to discuss a situation as important as the capture of the material for weapons of mass destruction on its way to North Korea, and he had intended to do just that. But when his chief of staff, Arnie Van Damm, contacted both Director of National Intelligence Mary Pat Foley and Director of the CIA Jay Canfield, he’d received requests from both to delay the meeting for a few hours while they worked on something that would be crucial to providing the President with a bigger and better picture of what was going on.
One does not normally tell POTUS “No” when he asks for a meeting, but Van Damm knew Ryan would have no problem allowing his top intelligence community officials more time to do necessary work, so he pushed the meeting back until nine a.m. the next day. The only problem with this from a scheduling standpoint was that the President had to fly to London for a NATO conference on Russia first thing in the morning.
They could have conducted the meeting via video conference, as Air Force One had the secure telecom necessary to keep the President in touch with Washington wherever he flew, but Mary Pat made the last-minute decision to go to Andrews early in the morning and fly along to Europe with her President so she could present her material in person. Mary Pat had known Jack for more than thirty years, and more than any public figure she had ever worked with, she knew how much he enjoyed rolling up his sleeves and putting his hands on the intelligence itself.
She had an objective with today’s meeting, and she knew she’d get a lot further with POTUS if he understood and agreed with all the intelligence she presented, and taking the flights to London and back would be a small price to pay for having his undivided attention for an hour or so.
Ryan agreed to the private conference with Mary Pat in the President’s office on Air Force One. The full National Security Council meeting could wait — for now.
As the plane taxied to the runway, Ryan sat at his desk working on some early-morning paperwork. He heard a knock at the open door next to him, and he looked up to see Arnie Van Damm.
“Aren’t you supposed to strap in for takeoff?” Ryan asked.
“Aren’t you?” Ryan’s desk chair had a seat belt, but it dangled off the side.
He said, “I’ve been doing this so long, I have it down to a science. Right when I hear us go throttle up I buckle up and clear my desk.” He snatched his coffee cup with a smile. “Then I grab my coffee so it doesn’t spill.”
Van Damm entered the room and sat in the chair across from the desk. It, too, had a seat belt. “For a guy who hates flying, I’d say you’ve got the hang of it.”
Ryan just chuckled and looked back down to his papers. He could tell they were still taxiing, and would be for another few minutes. “What’s up?”
Arnie said, “Secret Service wants to talk to you again about Mexico City.”
Ryan shook his head without looking up. “We’ve talked. I’m not canceling. They need to drop it.”
Arnie was the only member of Ryan’s staff who regularly argued with his boss. “I think you should reconsider. We’ve got some outs, don’t worry about that. Lots of problems in Asia and Ukraine that need attention. President Lopez will forgive you if you send regrets.”
Now Ryan did look up. “No, Arnie. I’m going. What’s Secret Service’s specific argument against the trip?”
“Well, I think they want to talk to you to make their case in person.”
“I’m asking you.”
“It’s the Maldonado thing.”
The President waved it away. “That was six months ago.”
“They are concerned that—”
Ryan called out to the hallway next to his office. “Andrea, can you come in here a second?”
His lead protection agent, Andrea Price O’Day, was in the room in two seconds. “Yes, sir?”
“I’d like to ask you to pistol-whip Arnie for me, but I bet you’ll give me some song and dance about you having rules against that.”
Andrea laughed and looked to Van Damm. “How about I just keep a close eye on him for now? He looks pretty harmless.”
Ryan said, “What’s this about you guys not wanting me to go to Mexico?”
Andrea replied, “That’s not me, Mr. President. I understand our threats and assessment advance division had some concerns.”
Ryan shrugged. “So as far as you’re concerned, I should go?”
“Didn’t say that, either. As far as I’m concerned, you’d never leave the White House. But it’s not my call to make, Mr. President.”
Ryan drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment. Then he said, “I’m going. I don’t duck and cover because some Mexican cartel psycho scumbag in the mountains goes on Twitter and threatens me. The office of the President is too important to show any reaction to a two-bit thug like that.”
Arnie said, “But—”
Ryan cut him off. “If Secret Service wants a meeting, I’ll give it to them, but only out of respect. I have no plans of canceling that trip. Tell them that, maybe they can save us both some time.”
He looked at Andrea. She nodded. As far as she was concerned, the matter was settled. “I’ll be right there with you.”
“Then everything will be fine.” O’Day returned to her seat, and Ryan looked back to Arnie. “We’re about five seconds from throttle up. You’d better fasten your seat belt.” Both men reached for their seat belts just as the massive 747 began to vibrate.
Right after takeoff at seven-fifteen a.m. Ryan sent down for his intelligence chief, who was just finishing an apple bran muffin and a cup of coffee in the senior staff meeting room while she worked on her iPad. She climbed the steps to the President’s office and found Ryan sitting behind his desk. He wore a dress shirt and a tie, but over that he wore his dark blue Air Force One flight jacket. He beckoned her over to a small rectangular conference table and grabbed a stack of papers from his desk. When he started to a chair opposite her, she reached out and pulled the chair around to her side of the table.
“Mind if we sit next to each other? I have to show you some things on my tablet.”
“As long as it doesn’t get back to Ed,” he joked.
Mary Pat laughed and they both sat down. More coffee was poured for them while they got settled.
Ryan asked, “Have you seen the reaction from the North Koreans about the interdiction of the Emerald Endeavor?”
Foley shook her head. “I missed it. I haven’t had a chance to turn on the TV.”
Ryan said, “Any guesses as to the wording?”
“I don’t know, something like ‘This illegal interdiction is an act of war perpetrated by America.’”
Ryan looked down at this morning’s Presidential Daily Brief, which contained an abbreviated transcript of the North Korean ambassador’s remarks from the evening before. He read it silently, then said, “Pretty good, Mary Pat.” He read from the transcript. “‘We regard this unlawful interception by the U.S. as an act of war.’”
Mary Pat waved away Ryan’s compliment. “Easy guess. It’s always the same with these guys.”
“So, what do we know about the material found? Definitely components to a missile?”
“Definitely. These tubes are the exact specs of a Dongfeng-3A. It is a Chinese single-stage medium-range nuclear ballistic missile.”
Ryan was confused. “Chinese? That doesn’t make sense. The Chinese could truck them over the border. Why would they sail them out into international waters where they could be interdicted?”