"Mister President, this is a very dangerous situation."
It was the Russian, Gorovsky. Someone spoke in simultaneous translation on his end as he spoke. Rice considered him a brutish man. Brutish, but smart. It wouldn't do to underestimate him.
"It has been made more so by Iran's acquisition of one of your warheads," Rice said.
He didn't want to get into a pissing match with the Russians, but the only thing they respected was force and the willingness to confront.
"We provided no such armaments. But you have armed the Jews."
"Not with nukes," Rice said. "The Israelis did that for themselves."
"With your help. Mister President, our satellites show that you have gone to your highest state of alert."
"As have you, President Gorovsky."
"We would be foolish not to."
"If you see that, you know that we have not released our bombers. They are at the fail safe points, as are all our forces. As, I might add, are yours."
"We do not wish for war." There was just a note of conciliation in the Russian's voice.
"Mister President." It was the Chinese leader's voice.
An Air Force Colonel watching the console said, "Sir, there's been a nuclear explosion in Iran."
Russia and China were tracking events with their own satellites. Excited voices crackled from the speakers. Rice watched the distinctive cloud boiling up into the Iranian sky. His stomach clenched.
"Whose was it?" he said.
"We don't know, yet. We have to wait for analysis."
"How big?"
"Hard to say, sir. Maybe a megaton. Possibly less. Not more."
"A missile warhead?"
"Yes, sir. There were no planes in the area. We picked up nothing coming in. They launched, then the nuke went off."
"We need to know where that nuke came from. How soon can we find out?"
"Working on it, sir."
"President Gorovsky. Premier Li," Rice said. "Please, let us not do anything in haste."
"The Israelis have attacked Iran with nuclear weapons," Gorovsky said. His voice was angry, agitated. "This cannot be tolerated."
"We don't know that," Rice said. "Perhaps not. We detected no incoming missiles or planes. It may be an accident. A systems failure on an Iranian missile."
"A nuclear accident in Iran? On one of their missile bases?" It was Premier Li. "Iran does not have nuclear capability. We are certain of this."
"Not yet, they don't," Rice said. "But our intelligence says they have a warhead. An old SS-13, from the days of the Soviet Union."
"Ah," Li said.
Gorovsky blustered. "We had nothing to do with this. The Russian Federation wants only peace. We are signatories on the non-proliferation treaties. We do not sell nuclear weapons to others. If a warhead was obtained by Iran, it was not Russian."
"Of course, Mister President." Rice was soothing. "We are well aware of your efforts to limit the spread of such weapons. No one suggests you are responsible in any way."
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs rolled his eyes. Everyone in the room knew that an unknown number of Russian nukes had been stolen or gone missing when the Soviet Union collapsed. The latest intelligence estimates set the number at no less than 80.
An officer entered the room and held a whispered conversation with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.
"Mister President."
"Yes, General?"
"We had a low orbit bird in the area and managed to get readings from the cloud. The radiation signature is unique. The bomb was Russian, manufactured at Mayak. It wasn't Israeli."
Every nuclear bomb or warhead manufactured anywhere in the world contained uranium or plutonium with distinctive markers that allowed accurate identification of its origin. Mayak had been Russia's major facility for nuclear weapons production for many years.
"You're certain?"
"Yes, sir."
"You heard that, President Gorovsky?" Rice said.
"We did not attack Iran!"
"No, of course not. Iran acquired a missile illegally and it failed when they tried to launch. They destroyed their own base. No one is blaming you, Mister President."
He turned to General Price.
"General, have the Israelis launched?"
"No, sir. They can see the same thing we do."
Rice decided to gamble. It was a big gamble, if he was wrong. But the news that this wasn't an Israeli strike altered things.
"President Gorovsky, Chairman Li, we must halt this before it goes any farther. I am ordering our forces to stand down one level. General Price, please go to DEFCON2."
"Sir…"
"DEFCON2, General."
Price was reluctant. "Yes, sir." He took out his phone, spoke into it. "Confirmed, sir."
"Thank you, General."
Gorovsky's voice was tense, but something had changed. "I will also stand back," he said. They heard him giving the orders.
"We shall do the same." It was Li.
"Gentlemen," Rice said. "Perhaps this time we can forge a new beginning. Let us use this terrible incident to find new ways to rein in these weapons. Now I am going to call the Prime Minister in Israel."
"I will see what I can do with Tehran," Gorovsky said.
"Perhaps a summit in Beijing might be a good idea," Li said. "Neutral ground for Tehran and Jerusalem."
"An excellent idea," Rice said. "Thank you, gentlemen." He ended the call and turned to Price.
"Keep an eye on those bastards," he said. "I don't trust either one of them. Keep our subs at DEFCON1."
Price looked relieved. "Yes, Mister President."
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
"It was a rough week," Nick said.
He was sitting in the shrink's office. Milton nodded politely.
"I can't tell you exactly what I did."
Milton waited.
"I was thinking about the last time I was here. You remember what we were talking about?"
"You said you felt helpless. About the grenade."
"Yeah. Well, more than that. It's not just that grenade. What I do…it could happen again."
"I know."
"You do?"
"You carry a gun. You're no longer in the military. I would guess you face situations like that grenade more often than you'd like."
"You saw in the papers, about Israel and Iran?"
"Pretty hard to miss."
"Something else I can't control. Wars other people start."
"How do you feel about it? That incident?"
"They teach you that phrase in shrink school? How do you feel?"
Milton smiled. "First thing. Well, almost. So, how do you feel?"
"The same as with the grenade. Only more general. There's nothing I can do about it if the idiots running the world start throwing nukes at each other."
"Idiots is a harsh word."
"I don't think so. If anything, it's too mild."
Milton was quiet. Then, "How are you doing with the dreams?"
"I've been too tired to dream."
It wasn't true.
"You do anything to relax?"
"Have a drink. Read a book, sometimes."
"You looked pretty stiff when you walked in here."
Stiff was an understatement. He had two broken ribs from the round he'd taken in Maine. His back was tight. His neck was sore.
"It's nothing."
Milton looked at him, waited.
"I'm still having the dream."
Milton nodded.
"It's screwing up my love life."
"Is that all?"
"All what?"
"All that's screwed up?"
"Maybe it's more than just the dream doing it. All I know is I'm tired. I feel like I can't connect with Selena, not like we used to anyway."
"Go back to helpless."
"What do you mean?"
"Remember, you said you felt helpless when the grenade was coming at you."
"So?"
"Helpless about what?"
Nick could feel himself tensing up. "You know what. The grenade."