“So, no. I’m certain that you are still clean. I don’t believe that Morozov knows that you have been working for us. Now, he might have suspicions, but that would be all. You and I both know that if he did know for certain, you would already be dead.”
Ammon looked up and shrugged his shoulders, then turned back to his food. “What about the drugs? Why did you have to drug me up? Had you decided I couldn’t be trusted?”
“No. It was nothing like that. It’s pretty simple really. We were running out of time. We knew that we had to take you fast. It had to be an extremely clean operation. No mess and no fuss. And we wanted everyone alive. But we figured Morozov to be very unpredictable. Not the type to go down without a big fight. And we didn’t have time to do a thorough examination of the tactical situation inside your hotel room. We didn’t know how many were in there. We didn’t know who. We weren’t even certain you were still with Morozov. So we made a sweeping generalization that everyone would go down the same way, then, when everything had settled down, we would sort the good guys from the bad.”
Richard Ammon nodded again, then sat back and smiled.
He was feeling as good as he ever had in his life. His nightmare was over. Jesse was safe. Even now, she was sitting out in California, protected from Morozov and his goons by a detail of FBI agents. It was over. And Morozov was had.
He sat up and squared his shoulders. “So, when can I leave?” he asked. “When can I get out to California? What else do we have to do to button this thing up? I know the debrief will take some time, so let’s get on with it.”
Tray looked uncomfortably over at Col Fullbright, who cleared his throat and said, “Well, Richard, there’s something that we need to tell you. And the truth is, you won’t like what we have to say.”
Ammon looked up with a start. His eyes clouded over and his face shaded just a hint as suspicion began to burn in his eyes. Fullbright continued, “You see, we need you now, Captain Ammon. We really need you. More than you ever could know.”
“Oh, no,” Ammon pleaded. “Please don’t say it. Don’t tell me this thing is not over!”
Tray shook his head and jumped in. “We can’t tell you that, Richard. I guess that will be up to you. We can’t promise you protection. We can’t promise you safety. But for the first time in your life, we can offer you this: a real opportunity to do the right thing.”
Ammon looked into Oliver’s face. There was no way to miss the look in his eyes. Ammon’s heart leapt into his throat and his stomach dropped to his knees. “Oh, no,” he mumbled. “What are you guys thinking? What do you want?”
Oliver lowered his voice and told him.
When he was finished, Ammon sat back and swore. He leaned against his seat and stared up at the ceiling, shaking his head. He hated them for even asking. All he wanted was to go home. He hated Morozov and all of the Russians. He hated the danger and risk of the mission. He hated his deep sense of honor. He hated the Air Force. He hated it all.
But all of these feelings didn’t change one simple fact. He had to do something. And he knew he could never say no.
Ninety minutes later, the President of the United States folded his arms across his chest and rocked back in his chair.
“So, you’re telling me that this is our only option?” he asked with suspicion. “That this is really what you think we should do?”
Milton Blake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Weber Coy, the director of the CIA, stared off into space, as if he didn’t want to answer the question.
“Sir, it isn’t our only option,” Blake replied. “There are other things we are looking at, some of which we have already discussed with you. But this is a new and radical development. The heavens just seemed to have opened and dropped this thing into our laps. Now what we do with it is left up to you.
“But sir, I urge you, in the strongest of terms, to seriously consider our recommendation. As I see it, and I think that I have considered every angle, it is our best hope, perhaps our only real hope, to eliminate the threat of a nuclear war. Fedotov is taking significant losses — much more than we ever expected. And he won’t allow the Ukrainians to wear his army down. They are his one golden asset. His ticket to the big show.
“Our satellites show him to be in the final stages of his preparations. He has already fueled and positioned his missiles.
“As it stands, we have to do something. Unless…“ Blake paused for a moment, “unless we are willing to let him start lobbing around his nuclear weapons.”
The President frowned. “Perhaps that’s exactly what we should do.” he mused. “Let the idiots fight their own battle. Ugly as it is, perhaps there’s nothing we can do.”
Blake shrugged his shoulders.
“Sir, two days ago, I might have agreed with that contention. I have never pushed for us to defend the Ukraine, nor argued that we should involve ourselves in the war. We have always drawn the line of our interest along the borders of our NATO allies.
“But everything has changed. In light of Fedotov’s recent actions, in light of what has been given to us out in Kansas… well, I think it would be cowardly to just sit on our hands. In my mind, it would be nearly an act of treason to just pretend that there’s nothing we can do. Sir, I know you have no military training, but it doesn’t take a warrior to see… ”
Blake immediately caught himself and shut his mouth. Weber Coy visibly bristled in his chair. Allen raised an eyebrow and straightened his back. Blake lowered his head in regret. He knew that he had just struck a nerve. He should have been smarter than that.
He swallowed and looked quickly around the room, hoping the moment would pass, then continued in a low and cautious tone.
“Sir, just for the sake of the argument, let’s assume that I’m wrong. Let’s say that he doesn’t go nuclear. I think that it is highly unlikely, but let’s say that it turns out that way. Now let me ask you. Where would that leave us? With a nuclear madman barking at our door. A maniac in control of all of Eastern Europe. And where will he stop? What next will he do? It’s like a global game of Russian roulette. Someone will die. We just don’t know when. We just don’t know who. But the possibility of carving out a long-term peaceful existence with Vladimir Fedotov is absolutely zero.”
The President pushed himself away from his desk. For a long time no one spoke. Then the President said, “Do you want to know what I think?” The two advisors sat forward in their chairs.
“I think it’s a stupid idea,” he said in a sarcastic tone, pointing an accusing finger toward Milton Blake. “Milt, I can’t believe you are sitting here, proposing this plan. I think that it is absolutely crazy. It fails every logic test that I know.
“Look! We were lucky to have stopped the Ukrainians in the first place. There is no doubt in my mind that, had their operation been a success, we would be facing all-out global war! The Russians would have thought we had attacked them! Fedotov would not have hesitated to respond. And how could we have blamed him? With an American bomber roaming around the heart of his country, he would do the only thing he could do.
“Now, maybe I’m not as smart as you gentlemen are, but I fail to see how your plan is so different. How does it keep us from starting a war?”
Blake was very quick to respond. “Many things are different for us, sir. First, keep in mind, the primary objective of the Ukrainians was to provoke the Russians. To force them to respond, hoping to thrust us into the war.