51
Marcus said nothing.
He just stared at the TV as batter after batter struck out, stranding two runners on base.
“The senator called me a few hours ago—he said you told him no,” Pete continued. “I said I’d take another run at you. So here I am. Come on, Marcus. You know Brussels and Berlin better than anyone. You’ve certainly been there with the president and VP enough times over the years.”
It was true. Marcus thought about the last time he’d done an advance for a G7 summit in London but then stopped as abruptly as he’d started. He looked at Pete. “Us?”
“Sorry?” Pete asked.
“You said come with us,” Marcus repeated. “The senator didn’t say anything about you going.”
“He only asked me after you said no,” Pete admitted, setting down his beer and sitting forward on the couch. “Come on, man, what do you say?”
Marcus looked back at the television. Now the Rangers were rallying. The first batter up hit a double. The second hit a triple on a high fastball.
“All right, I’ll go,” he said finally, turning the television completely off and facing Pete directly. “On three conditions.”
“Who are you? Aladdin?”
“You gonna hear me out or not?”
“Fine—name your price.”
“First, skip London, Brussels, and Berlin—been there, done that. It doesn’t get you anything. Go to Kiev, Tallinn, Riga, and Vilnius instead.”
“Why?” asked a bewildered Pete. “Most Americans can’t even locate those cities on a map.”
“That’s precisely why,” Marcus said. “If the senator’s real concern is the threat posed by Russia, then go talk to people who actually feel threatened by Russia. The British don’t. Neither do the Belgians or the Germans. They ought to, but they don’t.”
“Go on. I’m listening.”
“Every politician with national ambitions goes to 10 Downing Street, especially if you’re on the Intelligence Committee. But who ever talks to our most exposed and vulnerable allies? I worked on the PPD for years. We never once went to the Baltics. Yet I hear Luganov just ordered exercises in the Western Military District. And the Ukrainians? After the whole thing in Crimea, everyone’s forgotten about them. But the Russians have massed something like fifty thousand troops on the Ukrainian border, maybe more. They’re saying it’s only an exercise, but what if it really is the prelude to an invasion? So get ahead of the story. Meet with the leaders in Kiev. Go see the Ukrainian troops on the front. Take your buddies from CNN and the rest and go make some news.”
“Interesting,” Pete conceded. “Keep going.”
“Second, go to Moscow.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Ask for a meeting with Luganov, in the Kremlin, one-on-one.”
“Marcus, have you lost your mind? Luganov and Dayton hate each other. Everyone knows that.”
“All the more reason to meet with him, mano a mano.”
“Are you going to be the food taster?”
“If I need to be.”
“Marcus, this guy once ordered his people to slip radioactive poison in the tea of one of his political enemies.”
Unfortunately, Marcus knew, that was true. “You want your man to make headlines, right, to show himself a leader?”
“Right.”
“Then lead,” Marcus insisted. “No one else has the guts to confront Luganov. So Dayton should get in his face and tell him he’s leading his country down the path of ruin unless he changes course. Then fly to Brussels and meet with the leaders of NATO and tell them that unless they get serious about increasing their defense budgets, they’re inviting more Russian aggression in Europe. Then come back to Washington and introduce a bill that imposes sweeping new economic sanctions on Moscow and that adds another $100 billion to the Pentagon’s budget.”
“Uh, Marcus, you seem to forget one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“My guy is a Democrat.”
“All the more reason for him to set himself apart from the appeasement wing of his party. You want to make news, my friend? That’ll make news.”
Pete sat back, trying to process it all. “Why would Luganov ever say yes to such a meeting?” he asked after a moment.
“To look tough.”
“What do you mean?”
“To squash your guy like a bug.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I’m serious,” Marcus said. “Who is a bigger Russia hawk in the United States Senate than Bob Dayton? The man constantly sounds like he’s ready to start a war with Luganov. Never misses a chance to denounce the Kremlin when they deserve it and arguably even when they don’t. No one would expect him to ask for a meeting with Luganov, and no one would ever expect Luganov to say yes, which is probably why he will—either to woo him and charm him or to intimidate him and make him look like a deer in the headlights or to try to make your guy look like a hotheaded blowhard prone to hyperbole and overreaction.”
“Then again, if Dayton walks away looking like a serious statesman…”
“Now you’re getting the picture,” Marcus said.
Pete finished his beer and looked at his friend. “So that’s what you’ve been doing, all holed up in this apartment.”
“What?”
“Everyone’s worried about you, myself included. But maybe you’re not in here grieving. Maybe you’re plotting political strategy.”
“I have been grieving, Pete,” Marcus said quietly. “Doesn’t mean I’m depressed.”
“I’m not so sure,” Pete replied. “But whatever you’ve been up to, you’ve given me better ideas in the last five minutes—and for free, mind you—than I’ve given him over the last two months for… well, let’s just say not for free. So what’s your third condition? I’m pretty sure the senator’s going to jump at the first two.”
Marcus smiled for the first time.
“Promise me that when we get to Moscow, you and I go see Nick and grab a beer.”
52
WASHINGTON, D.C.—19 SEPTEMBER
The group took off from Washington Dulles on Friday afternoon.
They did not fly commercial but rather on a Learjet leased through the political action committee. Joining the senator were his chief of staff, his press secretary, Annie Stewart, Pete Hwang, Marcus, and four former Secret Service members whom Marcus had personally recruited and retained on behalf of the PAC to provide security. Two additional former agents were already on the ground in Kiev, arranging hotel rooms and transportation.
Marcus knew full well that he and the other former agents would hardly be able to guarantee the thorough and airtight protection package they all used to provide heads of state. But no American leader as outspoken as the senator on the grave threat posed by Russia could afford not to take at least basic precautions.
Pete had also convinced Dayton to switch out his bow ties for a good old-fashioned Windsor knot, another small but noteworthy sign to Marcus that Dayton wasn’t simply “exploring” a run for president. He was already flat-out running.
They arrived in Kiev just after 9 a.m. Saturday, local time.
The senator and his team were picked up in two armored Chevy Suburbans, driven by the former agents Marcus had sent on ahead, and taken to the Hilton on Tarasa Shevchenka Boulevard. After checking in, showering, and changing, the team drove past several lovely parks along the Dnieper River before passing through security gates, continuing up a hill, and arriving at the enormous and historic Mariyinsky Palace. There, they were taken immediately to the green reception room, as elegant as it was ornate, where they were received by Ukrainian president Dmitri Dovzhenko under a large crystal chandelier.