Packmeyer was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. They sagged, threatening to snap shut at any second. He took another swig of coffee, trying to concentrate on what the men were saying. It was starting to make sense, such as it was.
What startled him more than anything was not the facts of the situation. He could understand Ukraine’s motivation, and while not sympathizing, could view things from their perspective. The five Turks gathered around the table in front of him would no doubt disagree, but Packmeyer had to admit a grudging admiration for both their technology and their tactics. It might have workedalmost had.
“So where are we now?” he asked again, all too aware of how thick his tongue felt in his mouth, of the slight slurring at the edge of his words.
God, he was tired. After running on adrenaline and coffee for forty-eight hours, he had absolutely no resources left. There was nothing, short of an incoming missile raid on his position, that could get him excited now. Or so he thought. Seconds later, it turned out he was wrong.
“We have sourcesand we know you have contact with the American carrier.” The senior military officer shrugged. “However, given our political climate right now, it is not possible for us to contact the carrier directly. You understand.” He spread his hands in a gesture of requesting understanding.
“The carrier’s not likely to want to talk to you anyway,” Packmeyer said, aware that the words were blunt and unpolitical, but beyond caring. “Your mines damned near took out one of their ships, and the carrier has sustained damage as well. They’ve lost men, aircrafthell, they’re not likely to talk to you at all.”
“We know that. That is why we wish to enlist your assistance,” a second man said.
Mike assessed him carefully. A moderate, he knew from the man’s reputation, one who’d been gaining political power for the last five years.
Some had even mentioned him for the presidency of Turkey, but that had vanished about six months ago as Muslim radicals gained ascendancy. Now, all bets were off.
“You want me to call the carrier for you?” Mike asked.
“Exactly,” the second man said. “From the Naval base.”
“Huh?”
“We are taking you to the mine-control facility,” the second man continued. “There, we will allow you to observe all operations as we stand down the field from tactical activation. You will thus be able to assure the carrier that we have corrected the mistakes made by our predecessors and have assumed a neutral posture. They will not believe it from usperhaps they may from you.”
“Don’t tell me that Izmir is the only facility you have,” Mike said accusingly, now feeling a slight trickle of anger. How could they think he was so ignorant after all these years in Turkey?
He was a reporter, by God. He knew what went on in this country.
“The other facilities are standing down as well,” the man continued. “There is not time to take you to each one of them immediately, but we will if you require it. Indeed, we would invite a team from the American carrier to inspect each one individually. We will even offer our own vessels as escorts for the Americans as they leave the Black Sea. You see, mistakes have been madenot only by Ukraine, but by our former government as well. We wish to rectify those immediately and return to a civil, supportive relationship with the United States.”
Mike shook his head wearily. In the last forty-eight hours he had gone from being a bureau chief and producer for one of ACN’s main overseas stations to resuming a long-forgotten position as a field reporter. And now thisdamn, he was practically an ambassador.
Oddly enough, he felt some of the weariness start to seep out of his bones. It was a responsibilityone that he had to try his best to fulfill. He stood up from the table, feeling his knees and hips creak as he stretched. “Let’s go,” he said simply. “The sooner the better for both countries.”
“If we can believe it, then it represents a major change in our tactical situation,” Lab Rat said. “And I’m inclined to believe that the Turks are sincere about this.”
“Especially if they provide escort,” Batman added. “Frankly, I agree with Commander Busby. If Ukraine was behind this from the start, and Turkey was undergoing a coup d’etat at the same time, it’s easy to see how the political scenario could get totally cluster-fucked. It sounds like they’re on the right track for straightening things out. I wouldn’t mind giving them a hand if we can.”
Tombstone grimaced. “Twenty-four hours ago, I was ready to bomb Izmir to Hell and back. Now you’re telling me to trust the Turks?”
He shook his head. “It’s like Reagan used to saytrust, but verify.”
He turned to Batman. “Get together a team of intelligence officers and specialiststake some engineers if you want. I want a team ready to board a CH-46 within the next thirty minutes to fly to Izmir. We’ll verify for ourselves that the minefields are deactivated, and then accept Turkey’s gracious offer of an escort back through them. How does that sound?”
“Just fine.”
Batman turned to his Chief of Staff and began rapping out a series of orders.
Lab Rat said, “Admiral, how much of this information do you want to release to the press? If I could, I’d suggest we be circumspect about this until we’ve actually verified the status of those minefields. Besides, Mike Packmeyer appears to be an excellent source in place. If we put the media on this right now, we’ll have blown himand we may need him later.”
Tombstone looked thoughtful. “I’m inclined to agree with you. For now, no details. If anybody asks, the CH-46 is en route to Izmir to render humanitarian assistance. Will that do?”
Lab Rat nodded. “Packmeyer may think he’s become a diplomatand I guess he has. But there’s nothing to say that he can’t do just as much for his country by remaining exactly what he isa damned fine reporter.”
An image of Pamela Drake appeared in Tombstone’s mind. Pamela, the one first to every story, the one who had to be there, on scene. She was cooling her heels in the outer waiting room, still in the dark about the latest scenario. She would be furious, he knew, if she knew how much influence Mike Packmeyer was having on the course of eventsfurious, and first on the air with it, trying to take as much credit as she could for being his initial point of contact on board the carrier. Tombstone shook his head, a grim expression crossing his face.
Well, not this time. Pamela might have been on station on the carrier, but this story wasn’t hersit was Packmeyer’s. And Tombstone was determined to see that Packmeyer got every bit of credit he was entitled to.
He turned back to Lab Rat. “Slight change in planstell Packmeyer that I’ll give him an exclusive. Tell the team to bring him back on board Jefferson on the CH-46 when they return from their inspection tour. I’ll make all the facilities he needs available to himsatellite communications, cell phoneswhatever. Tell him he’s got my word on it.”
Lab Rat turned to go. Tombstone stopped him with a gesture.
“One other thing. Tell him he rendered his nation an important service. And it won’t be forgotten. On my word.”
Tombstone turned back to Batman. “We’ve got one other little matter to resolvethe State Department.”
Batman looked grim. “What the hell do we do with Tiltfelt?”
“My problem, not yours, my friend.”
Tombstone clapped him on the shoulder with one hand. “Why don’t you just have your Chief of Staff escort Mr. Bradley Tiltfelt up here? And have him bring Pamela Drake along with him. I think they’ll both be interested in seeing how this plays out.”
Twenty minutes later, Bradley Tiltfelt and Pamela Drake were seated alone in the admiral’s conference room. Pamela reached out, shook the coffeepot, and grimaced. The least they could do was keep it full.