Vadim bade them sit, and they did.
He had always struck Bennett as a rather gentle man, particularly in contrast to Zyuganov’s fierce intensity, but today all of that kindness had evaporated.
Vadim’s dark blue eyes were icy, his pale Russian face brooding. He was about Bennett’s height and weight, though fifteen years his senior, with close-cropped blond hair and a swimmer’s build. He had, in fact, competed on the Soviet men’s swim team during the 1976 Olympics and won a medal in one of the relays — though Bennett couldn’t remember which — and he still swam at least an hour every morning before attending to his official duties.
Highly decorated as a major general in the Red Army, Vadim got out of the military in the early 1990s and went into politics not long after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Twice elected the mayor of St. Petersburg — first in a squeaker, then in a landslide — he was later handpicked by Vladimir Putin to be the Russian interior minister, then energy minister, then foreign minister, and eventually vice premier. Finally Putin appointed Vadim head of his party and heir to his political throne, and he had essentially been unchallenged ever since.
Foreign Minister Golitsyn nodded at them but did not smile. Zyuganov took out a fountain pen and opened a leather binder to take notes. No comments. No warmth. Nothing but silence and hard stares.
Bennett took the hint and began. “Mr. President, gentlemen, thank you for inviting Erin and me here tonight.”
When Vadim said nothing, Bennett cleared his throat and continued.
“Let me begin by repeating what President MacPherson said during his televised address on Wednesday. He and the first lady would like to express their personal condolences to you, to the Russian people, and particularly to the families and friends of the innocent people who lost their lives in Tuesday’s tragedy.
“Second, the president remains committed to the rapid return of all the bodies we are able to recover, as well as all personal effects and, of course, in time, the wreckage of the jet itself.
“Third, the president would like to work with your government to open a joint investigation into how this hijacking happened, who was responsible, what their intentions were — and may still be — and how further steps can be taken to prevent the future hijacking of Russian aircraft and to ensure the safety of Russians and all people entering the United States by air travel.
“Finally, President MacPherson would like to discuss with you whether an economic aid package of some kind might be helpful to assist the Russian people through a very difficult time. Of course, such packages are not the sole discretion of the president. They must be approved by our Congress. But I think you will find the American government and the American people very understanding of the challenges you and your country face at this difficult time.”
This was where he was most likely to blow off his own foot, Bennett knew. He had argued strenuously in the NSC against raising the notion of an aid package. It was true that the Russian economy — overly dependent on oil and gas revenue and thus far resistant to diversification — was sinking fast. And it was also true that the U.S. had no interest in seeing a partner for peace such as Russia remain in such economic trouble for long. Still, the notion of offering economic aid amid such bilateral tensions struck Bennett as, at best, sending a mixed message, and at worst, downright impolitic. Nevertheless, the NSC — led by the president — had unanimously overruled him.
MacPherson wanted no ambiguity: the U.S. desired to work with Moscow toward peace and prosperity and would let nothing stand in its way.
Bennett wasn’t so sure it would be read that way. And for a moment, the room was silent. McCoy shifted in her seat. Bennett tried to make eye contact with Golitsyn, but the man seemed determined not to return his gaze until his boss broke the ice.
There was almost palpable discomfort in these men. But it was more than that that made Bennett uneasy. Bennett couldn’t put his finger on it, but a sense of foreboding seemed to be overtaking him.
“I must say,” Vadim began, “that the offer of an American economic package to my country is so out of the question, so unhelpful at this moment, as to be curious why it would even be raised.”
Bennett leaned forward to speak. Vadim held up his hand and continued. “Please — do not interrupt me, Mr. Bennett. You have stated your case. I will respond, briefly, candidly, and then allow you to return to your embassy.”
Allow? thought Bennett. How chivalrous. He shook it off. He couldn’t let himself get defensive. This wasn’t personal; it was politics.
“The Russian people,” Vadim continued, “are not in need of patronizing handouts. They are in need of compensation for a wrong that has been done to them. And frankly, I must confess that I am curious why no mention was made of American compensation to victims of this crime.”
Crime? Compensation? The words hit Bennett like a punch in the stomach. Was Vadim suggesting that self-defense was now a crime? Perhaps he was simply referring to the hijacking itself as a crime, which of course it was. But how would that make the U.S. government liable for compensation? Was this whole thing about money after all?
Bennett had no idea how to respond. Not only hadn’t the NSC given him any guidance on the issue of compensation, the subject hadn’t even come up.
Bennett’s mandate was crystal clear: keep relations between the U.S. and Russia from derailing. To do so he had to stick with his talking points.
“President Vadim, I will certainly relay the question to my government, but I believe a discussion of compensation is premature. What is needed immediately is a joint investigation, with full cooperation between U.S. and Russian security and intelligence services. We need to know who the hijackers were, what they wanted, and how they were able to seize the plane,” Bennett stressed.
“What evidence does the U.S. have that the plane was hijacked?” Vadim asked.
Bennett was floored. “Mr. President, I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at.”
“It is a simple question. Have you, for example, recovered the black box?”
“Not yet,” Bennett admitted.
“Any of the flight-data recorders?”
“We’re still looking.”
“It has been almost four days.”
“The wreckage stretches for miles.”
“Have you recovered the bodies of the so-called hijackers or their weapons?”
So-called? Was this some kind of negotiating tactic, or was Vadim serious?
“We have recovered pieces of six handguns so far, all believed to have been carried by the various security details on the flight,” said Bennett.
“But none that have been identified as belonging to these so-called hijackers?”
“The investigation is ongoing.”
“I noticed a new story on the Associated Press wire, indicating that the Aeroflot flight crew was a last-minute substitution for the regular flight crew, and that this new crew regularly flew a direct route from Moscow to Washington Dulles, rather than to JFK,” Vadim said. “The story seemed to suggest there is a bit of confusion over whether the pilot may have thought he was supposed to fly to Dulles, since that was his normal habit. Does your government believe this has any relevance?”
Bennett had no idea what he was talking about. He’d neither seen the story nor been briefed on it. But the whole notion was ludicrous. Flight plans were logged and programmed long before takeoff. Flight crews rarely made a mistake like this, and there was no way any pilot could have missed the message of the two F-16s.
Bennett felt his skin crawl. He had the sudden urge to cancel the meeting and get McCoy out of here, but protocol made him stay.