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Admiral Stone sat on one of the couches in the Oval Office, making a conscious effort to sit still. When he was stressed and angry, he had a tendency to make erratic movements with his feet. He was stressed today. The Russians had shot down one of his boys. Lieutenant JG Terrel Williams had taken off from the USS Ronald Reagan on a routine surveillance mission off the Syrian coast. Yes, he'd strayed a couple of miles into Syrian airspace. Damn it, that was no reason to blow him out of the sky.
Kaplan sat in his usual place on one of the couches, looking preoccupied. Secretary of Defense Arnold Dixon sat next to Kramer, across from Admiral Stone. Secretary of State Demarest sat next to him, polishing his glasses.
Rebecca Kramer cast an occasional glance at Kaplan, waiting to see if he'd gotten the message to cooperate. When she'd learned an American plane had been shot down, she'd known Kaplan would try to convince the president that the best response was diplomacy and patience. Rebecca Kramer was done with diplomacy and patience. She was sick of appeasement. The Russians needed to know the time for games was past.
The mandate of the CIA didn't include setting national policy, but that had never kept Langley's directors from doing whatever was necessary to make things go in the right direction. It was an article of faith at Langley that politicians couldn't be trusted to make the kinds of hard decisions needed to ensure America's safety. She regarded President Campbell as naïve when it came to Russia. He didn't understand Tarasov's hatred of America, but Kramer did. She'd studied the Russian president and his history.
She didn't have the power to decide what the response would be to Russia's actions, but she was damned if she was going to let someone like Kaplan steer the president away from what had to be done. She'd had a plan ready for a moment like this.
That morning, Kaplan had found a sealed manila envelope on his desk, addressed to him and marked eyes only. There was no postage on the envelope, or return address.
When Kaplan looked at the contents, adrenaline shot through his body and froze him to his chair. An 8 X 10 photograph showed him naked in circumstances that would bring instant disgrace if it became public. A single sentence was typed under the picture.
Don't advocate compromise or everyone sees this.
If that picture got out, he was ruined. A minute later an aide had knocked on the door of his office.
"What is it?"
"Sir, the president wants you. There's been an incident in Syria."
"On my way," Kaplan had said.
He'd put the picture and envelope through the shredder before he left. Now he sat with the others in the Oval Office, wondering if he would still have his job tomorrow.
Kaplan loved his job. He loved the trappings of power. As a senior advisor to the president, he had a lot of status in Washington. He got the best tables, the best invitations, the inside tips that had already made him a millionaire. He wasn't about to give all that up, not for anything.
It was probably Kramer who had sent the picture, but he couldn't be certain. It didn't matter who'd sent it. He had no doubt the sender would follow through on the threat if he didn't do as he was told.
General Kroger and Walter Covington came into the room.
"I'm sorry we're late, Mister President. There was an accident. Traffic was backed up."
"You're here now, that's what matters," Campbell said. "Let's get started."
Kroger and Covington sat down on either side of Admiral Stone. As usual, Covington was perfectly dressed, the creases in his pants and brilliant shine on his shoes a civilian match to the military uniforms.
"As you are all aware, this morning the Russians shot down one of our planes while it was conducting routine reconnaissance off the Syrian coast," Campbell said. "I need to decide on a response."
"Mister President, Tarasov has gone too far," General Kroger said.
"I agree, Mister President," Admiral Stone said. "Frankly, I'm beginning to wonder about Tarasov's mental state. His actions seem irrational to me. He's escalated the potential for conflict without any obvious advantage. I don't see what he hopes to gain by this. He's challenging us, and the world is watching. We must take firm action, and quickly."
"The Russians deny responsibility," Campbell said. "They claim the Syrians shot the plane down after it violated Syrian airspace."
"Excuse me, Mister President, but that's like saying the dog ate my homework," Kroger said. "It was an SS400 that took out our plane. The Russians maintain rigid control of those missiles. Everyone knows the Syrians aren't in charge."
"Admiral, you said you don't see what Tarasov hopes to gain," Kramer said. "It may be a distraction."
"What do you mean, Director?"
"We have reliable intelligence indicating Tarasov and his generals are planning something big. We don't know the details, but our analysis is that they're planning a major response to the blockade. This incident with the plane could be an attempt to draw our attention away from something else they're doing. While we're watching their right hand, the left is doing something else."
"You may be giving Tarasov too much credit," Demarest said.
"It would be unwise to underestimate him," the Defense Secretary said.
Arnold Dixon was almost the exact opposite of Demarest in looks and political philosophy. He was a big man who had played football at Auburn until an injury knocked him off the team during his junior year. It wasn't serious enough to cause permanent damage or to keep him out of the Army after graduation. He'd volunteered for the Rangers and served with distinction. The Russian bomb in Syria had killed American soldiers. Dixon took it personally.
"The generals backed him in winning the presidency, but he's not a puppet. He's where he is because he agrees with the philosophy of the ultra-nationalists who currently make up the Russian general staff."
He paused and sneezed into his elbow.
"Sorry," he sniffed. "My allergies are acting up. Tarasov has spent the last few years modernizing the Russian military. His generals want to play with their new toys. We're seeing that in Syria. I'm worried about them, and I'm worried about this latest incident. General Kerensky sees us as the fascist enemy. So do Minister Fedorov and the rest. All of them have made public comments favoring confrontation with the West."
"What are you saying, Arnie?" Demarest said.
"It's possible they're getting ready to go to war. Our blockade may have pushed them to the brink."
"That would be consistent with our intelligence," Kramer said. "Our Russian source told us exactly that."
"You think they're planning a first strike?" Kroger said.
"I certainly hope not, but it's possible. That would also be consistent with what our sources are telling us."
"I wouldn't put anything past that madman," Stone said.
"Harold," President Campbell said. "You've been unusually quiet. What do you think?"
"I agree with General Kroger, Mister President. Tarasov has gone too far. We have to send a strong message to the Russians."
Good boy, Kramer thought.
"You don't think we should take this to the UN?" Campbell said. "I would prefer a diplomatic solution."
"That hasn't done any good in the past, Mister President. Something stronger is needed this time."
Campbell looked at Kaplan as if he'd grown three heads.
"You think a military response is required?"
"All I'm saying is that the UN has not helped us before, when it comes to dealing with the Russians."
"For once I agree with Harold," Kroger said. "Mister President, I think we need to make a measured military response to this outrageous provocation."
"I concur," Admiral Stone said. "We could take out the missile site that brought down our plane. That would be a limited and appropriate response."
"There will be Russians at that site," Demarest said.
"Tough," Dixon said. "They can't have it both ways. Either the Syrians are responsible, or the Russians are. If they maintain the fiction that it was the Syrians, then they can't make a public stink if some of their personnel are killed when we retaliate."
"Walter? What do you think?" Campbell asked.
Covington cleared his throat before answering.
"I don't like it, but I don't think we have a choice. Harold makes a good point. We could go to the UN and try the diplomatic route, but we all know it's a waste of time. In the end nothing will come of it. I'm concerned about Director Kramer's comment, that this incident may be a strategic distraction orchestrated by Tarasov's generals. Perhaps if we show resolve now, we can avert war later."
"Well put," Admiral Stone said.
"I agree," Kramer said.
"A limited response would be an effective message," Kaplan said.
"I can prepare a diplomatic statement justifying our actions," Demarest said.
"We have to draw a line," Dixon said.
Campbell looked around the room and sighed. They were all agreed. He'd asked for their advice. He hoped he wasn't about to make things worse.
"Admiral Stone."
"Yes, Mister President?"
"Order your people to take out that missile site. I don't want to hear about civilian collateral damage. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir, very clear. It will be a surgical strike."
A presidential aide came into the room.
"Sir, the British ambassador is about to arrive."
"I'll be right there," Campbell said.
Campbell stood. The others got to their feet.
"Admiral Stone, keep me informed. And God help us if this goes wrong."