Prost stared straight at the chief executive. “In addition, Mr. President, we need to increase your Secret Service protection, and we should place additional SAMs on the roof.”
“Wait — slow down a minute,” Macklin said in a low-key voice as he raised a hand. “I’m not going anywhere, Hartwell. If I run for cover every time some nut threatens me, the terrorist groups would be falling over each other to get here.”
The president shook his head. “No,” he said emphatically, “I’m not going anywhere. Take whatever measures you feel are necessary to increase our security, but we’re not going to abandon the White House.”
Prost paused to steel himself. “Sir, with all due respect, one of the most feared men in the world is flying around this country in an A-4 Skyhawk. With that in mind, Bassam Shakhar has publicly declared that you’re his primary target.”
A long silence followed.
“Mr. President,” Prost said impatiently, “I have no doubt that Farkas has orders to assassinate you.”
“Goddammit, Hartwell, I’m not going into hiding.” They locked eyes. “That’s final — end of discussion.”
“Yes, sir,” he said politely, refusing to be intimidated. “New subject?”
“New subject,” the president said without any visible emotion.
Prost swept Macklin with cold eyes. “Iran’s nuclear weapons are a real and immediate threat. I think we need to neutralize them first, then deal with the terrorist issue.”
Inclined to be dubious, the president stared over the top of his spectacles and spoke to his national security adviser. “Hartwell, we know Iran has the capability to smuggle biological, chemical, or nuclear weapons into our country. Hell, the terrorists could as easily turn Fords and Buicks into low-budget stealth bombers. If we take it on ourselves to single handedly deal a major blow to Iran, it could create so much regional instability that everyone would turn against us — including our spineless allies.”
“Do you think the Iranian-controlled nuclear weapons are creating stability in the Middle East?”
Macklin’s eyes flashed with anger.
With his rebellion announced, Prost continued. “Tehran and their terrorist groups are a strategic threat to Israel, to everyone in the Arab world, and now to the West. We have to neutralize their nuclear capability, before our worst fears become a reality.”
“We don’t have to do a damn thing,” the president retorted, trying to conceal his growing irritation.
“Look at Qaddafi,” Prost demanded. “We know he still keeps his hand in the terrorist game, but since Reagan thumped him on the head, we haven’t heard much out of him.”
“Qaddafi retaliated against us,” the president suddenly blurted. “Remember Pan Am 103? If we ‘thump’ Iran, we could trigger a whole series of Pan Am 103s, or worse. Think about TWA 800,” Macklin said curtly. “Although we can’t disclose the truth to the public, we know the attack was retaliation for shooting down Iran Air Flight 655. Hell, hundreds of eyewitnesses, including professional pilots, saw a missile strike TWA 800. We may not be able to cover up the next act of retribution.”
Prost ignored the remarks. “Sir, the people of this country, and the free world, are looking to the United States for leadership. It’s time to show our resolve — time to set a precedent. Obviously, we need to confer with our allies, but it’s up to us to take swift and decisive action against Iran.”
Prost waited while the president’s political handicapping process computed the various odds of increasing or decreasing his popularity rating.
General Chalmers covered his mouth and quietly coughed.
“Les,” the president said with open irritation, “I recognize that cough. Tell me what you think.”
“Well,” Chalmers began slowly, “I’ve been informed by luminous minds that war planning is much too serious a thing to be left to military men, especially generals. With that in mind, it’s my opinion that peace is much too important to be left to diplomats.”
“Excellent point,” Prost declared.
Chalmers continued as if Prost had said nothing. ‘Together, we must solve our predicament — if we want to avoid a nuclear holocaust in the Middle East. Once someone tosses a nuke or two across the pond, we won’t be able to quarantine the hysteria. There’ll be a global anxiety attack that’ll create political and military chaos beyond anyone’s comprehension.”
The air crackled with tension while the president rubbed the bridge of his nose, then made eye contact with Chalmers. “You’re telling me that I don’t have any other choice — is that it?”
“Sir, I wish I could provide a half-dozen options, but we’re dealing with Iran.” Chalmers spoke with a hint of frustration. “This is more sensitive and potentially more catastrophic than dealing with Saddam Hussein. We have to intervene to maintain stability in the Gulf region, and to ensure that Iran doesn’t close the Strait of Hormuz.”
Macklin quirked an eyebrow. “Les, we’re a nation built on democracy. We can’t go around inter—”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with democracy,” Chalmers interrupted. “It has to do with oil — with the economic well-being of the industrialized world. And,” he said more softly, “it has to do with power. If we ignore this blatant threat, the credibility of the U.S. forces in the region will go straight to hell.”
“And my credibility with it…” The president trailed off.
“That’s right.” Chalmers looked him straight in the eye. “You’re the commander in chief, the most powerful man on this earth. You have to look at the big picture — what’s best for the entire planet.”
Macklin showed no emotion. “What about radiation contamination?”
“Negligible to nonexistent,” Chalmers said firmly. “The nukes aren’t armed to detonate until they’re airborne.”
Finally, the president swiveled to face his advisers. Their obvious unity was infectious and had the clear markings of an emerging policy change.
Macklin took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. “I’ll stand by your recommendation,” he said in a quiet voice, “but we better be prepared for the consequences.”
Chalmers gave the president a forced smile. “You made the right decision, sir.”
Macklin shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “Like you pointed out, I don’t have a choice. Now, what’s your next step?”
“I plan to reposition two more mine countermeasures ships to the Gulf, just in case the Iranians attempt to blockade the Strait of Hormuz. I’m also going to assign another five ships to Destroyer Squadron 50 and station an additional attack submarine in the Gulf and one in the Gulf of Oman.”
The president nodded in silent approval.
“We’ll make the operation appear to be routine, then go on alert just before our submarines initiate their attack on the missile sites. The skippers have their orders, and they’re en route to the Gulf of Oman.”
Macklin gave him a questioning look. “Do you think it’s wise to commit to this plan with just one battle group in the Gulf?”
“Yes, sir. Roosevelt and her battle group are en route to the northern Arabian Sea if we need additional firepower. We’ll be able to counter any retaliation from Iran — against our forces stationed in the area, or our allies.”
“With just two battle groups?” the president asked with a look of skepticism in his eyes.
“We’ll have more than two carrier air wings and their escorts. I intend to use F-15s and 16s from Turkey and Saudi Arabia to assist in providing air cover for the carrier groups.”
The president worked hard to keep his concerns from showing. “Realistically, what kind of resistance can we expect?”