The CNO nodded. “The Intelligence wienies agree with you. It makes no senseyet they’ve opened a Pandora’s box of tactical nuclear weapons as a first strike. That seems to indicate that everything we know or think we know about Turkey misses the mark. Quite frankly, my immediate inclination is to order a devastating counterforce strike against them. But that’s going to meet with some resistance from both State Department and the president.”
Tombstone leaned back in his chair and stared at the world map dominating the wall behind the CNO. The intricate politics, the ebb and flow of loyalties and alliances, all driven by the vast machine of religious fervor in that part of the worldhow were a couple of pilots supposed to make sense of it?
The State Department sure as hell didn’t have the answers.
But there’d been an attack on American forces at sea. Aside from any other political considerations, that matter had to be dealt with.
Decisively and immediately. To do less would simply open the flood-gates, encourage every tin-pot dictator anywhere in the world to take his best shot at American forces, lulled into security by the United States’ failure to retaliate against Turkey. He shook his head. No, that would never do.
Many more would make similar attempts in the years to come if America demonstrated any lack of resolve or inability to avenge herself. That must not be allowed to occur.
“Any word from State?” Tombstone asked, knowing he was not going to like the answer.
The CNO sighed. “Assholes have got a better intelligence network than we do,” he said bitterly. “I’ve already had two calls from them urging restraint, moderation, some sort of nonsense that sounds like healing the wounded bastard child of Turkey’s psyche.”
Fury rose in the admiral’s face, transforming his normally impassive expression into a mask of anger.
“Those assholes shot at my ship! And they’re going to pay for it.”
“As they ought to,” Tombstone said crisply, uncomfortable immediately with the strong ebb and flow of emotion in the room. “How can I help?”
“Tombstone, what I’m about to tell youyou can decline if you want to, son. I’m hoping you won’t, but I’ll leave you that option. I’ve got to have somebody on the scene whom I trust absolutely, an officer in command whose view of the situation mirrors mine exactly. If Turkey is committed to using tactical nuclear weapons, we could lose communications with our forces there at any point. At the very least, we’re going to lose ground-support capabilities from our base in Turkey.”
He shook his head. “I can’t risk putting an unknown quantity on the front line. Hell, if I could get away from this desk, I’d go myself. But I can’t. Unless you have some objection, as of this second, you’re Sixth Fleet.” The CNO fell silent and waited for his nephew’s response.
“Sixth Fleet? Admiral, I’m flattered at your confidence, but-“
“Don’t give me any crap, Stoney,” the CNO said quietly. “I want you there, partially for reasons I can’t even tell you about. The only question is, how fast and for how long? I know you’re due to turn over with Southcom in a couple of weeks, and you’ve got a full can wait. There’s no other admiral in this Navy with as much actual combat experience as you’ve got, and nobody I trust more. So cut the modesty and give me a simple yes or no, will you?”
“Yes. Of course I’ll go. Did you really have any doubt?”
“No.” A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of the admiral’s mouth. “But I thought I’d give you an out if you wanted one. You and that young lady of yours. Hell, Stoney, we’ve got to start producing Magruders for the next century sometime, don’t you think? I thought maybe-“
It was Tombstone’s turn to interrupt. “With all due respect, you thought wrong, Admiral,” he shot back quickly. “My young lady, as you put it, is a combat-blooded Naval aviator. If she thought I’d turned down this assignment just to stay with her, she’d kick my ass from here to Honolulu.”
A silence settled over the room, not an uncomfortable one. It was the feeling between two men who trust each other absolutely, who were related not only by blood, but by the even more binding ties of honor, loyalty, and duty. “You’ll leave immediately,” the CNO said finally. He stared at Tombstone as if trying to memorize his features. “Old stomping grounds for you, Stoney. Since La Salle is completely non-mission-capable, you’ll have to park your flag on Jefferson. Any problem with that?”
A sudden fierce joy shook Tombstone, surprising in its intensity. To be back at sea, just when he thought he was going to be deskbound at Southcom for a two-year tour. Not in command of the carrier, of coursethat honor would remain with his old wingman, Rear Admiral Edward Everett “Batman” Wayne, the man who’d relieved him only a year earlier as Commander, Carrier Battle Group 14.
Tombstone stood. “If there’s nothing else, Admiral, I need to make some preparations to get underway.”
The CNO stood and extended his right hand. Tombstone grasped it, the warm configurations so like the flesh of his own hand, a pulse that was more than a physiological function beating in unison in the two hands.
Tombstone held the handshake a moment longer than was necessary, then released his uncle’s hand reluctantly. “I’d best get going.”
“The Chief of Staff will type up your orders.” The CNO regarded him gravely. “I don’t have to tell you how important this is, Admiral.”
“I know, Admiral.”
Bradley Tiltfelt glared at the man fidgeting before his desk. “Whose side are you on?”
As Deputy Assistant Director for Eastern European Affairs, he had every right to ask the question. Ask it, and expect the appropriate answer from his subordinates. If the man standing in front of him didn’t understand that, it was time Bradley knew that now.
The Section Chief for Turkey appeared to be giving the matter some thought, which Bradley deemed entirely inappropriate. The answer was obvious, or should be. That there might be other concerns than the political standing of his officeand more importantly, of himselfnever even entered Tiltfelt’s mind.
“I’m in favor of peaceful resolution of this matter before the military knee-jerk reaction escalates it into a full-scale war,” the man offered tentatively.
Bradley leaned back in his chair, caressed the leather arm, and stared pointedly at the Chief. “What manual did you plagiarize that from? When I want politically correct jargon out of you, I’ll tell you. Now answer the question.”
The Chief’s face reddened, and his fidgeting stopped. Bradley could see the anger rising in the man’s eyes, felt the tension in the room build.
It was unfortunate that he had to rely on individuals such as this in conducting foreign policyextremely unfortunate. Where were the cadres of loyal subordinates that he saw staffing the offices of the other Assistant Deputies?
He shook his head, feeling vaguely bitter. The State Department was supposed to be a haven for a better sort of human being, the ones that understood the intricacies of world affairs and that such matters could not be entrusted to men whose only idea of an appropriate response to turmoil was an explosive device.
His Chief started to speak, choked back a few words, and then remained silent.
“Well?” Bradley demanded. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, of course, sir,” the Chief finally muttered. He looked down at the carpet, finding something incredibly intriguing just in front of his feet.