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President Richard Campbell had arrived at the White House by way of the Governor's mansion in South Dakota. He'd been in office for a little less than four months. His great-great-grandfather had helped settle the state back when it was still a territory. Campbell was South Dakota born and bred, growing up near the Black Hills on the sprawling family ranch. He was tall and lean, lanky and loose jointed. Old people made folksy jokes about him being a "tall drink of water" and said he looked a lot like the actor Jimmy Stewart.
He'd used his height to advantage, playing Division I basketball for the South Dakota State Jackrabbits well enough to draw the attention of the pro scouts. Campbell loved playing ball, but he'd turned the scouts down. He knew enough about his ability to realize he wasn't quite fast enough for professional play.
He'd married a local girl a week after graduation. It was one of those Hollywood stories that played well with the public later on, the guy who married his childhood sweetheart. By the time he'd gotten a Masters degree in business administration, Amy had given him two children, a boy and a girl.
Campbell had left the family ranch in the hands of his older brother and started a service firm catering to the needs of the regional medical centers bracketing the state. Along the way he'd become friends with a surgeon who had an idea for a new device useful in open-heart surgery. Campbell backed him. They'd patented, built, and tested the device. It was now used in every operating theater in the country. All that money had come in useful later on, when he got into politics.
The honeymoon period of his presidency was over. The sharks had begun to circle, looking for vulnerabilities. At this point he was still an unknown quantity. The Washington establishment saw him as an outsider, ripe for manipulation.
Outside the bulletproof windows of the Oval Office, it was the kind of day that made you want to lay back and take it easy. No one in the room was in a mood to relax.
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Bradford "Bull" Kroger, sat on one of two couches placed in front of the Resolute desk and wondered what the man in the big chair was going to do with his first international crisis. Kroger still didn't have the measure of Campbell. How he dealt with what was happening in Turkey would fill in some of the gaps.
Rebecca Kramer, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, sat next to Kroger on the couch. She was a blade of a woman, the contours of her face hard and sharp. Everything about her said serious. She wore a severe gray business suit and steel rimmed classes. Her only jewelry was a pair of discrete gold and pearl earrings. There was no wedding ring on her finger.
Harold Kaplan sat across from General Kroger and Kramer, the point of one polished wingtip moving nervously in the air. Kaplan was Campbell's Senior Advisor for Strategic Planning and Policy. He was a small man, with an unfortunate face that looked crunched in on itself. Behind his back, the White House staff called him "the terrier," a comment both on his looks and on his relentless dedication to advising and protecting the president. Like an ill-behaved dog, he had a tendency to bite if things didn't go his way.
Kramer had just finished briefing the president. Langley had confirmed that General Sevim was positioning troops and equipment along the Turkish border with Syria, in preparation for a full-scale invasion into Kurdish controlled territory. In addition, the Russian Federation was building up forces in the region.
The analysts at Langley were concerned. When the analysts were concerned, so was Rebecca Kramer. So far the Russians hadn't made any hostile moves. They'd stayed away from the American base in Kurdish controlled territory, but everyone in the room knew that could change at any moment.
"Director Kramer, you're certain about the identification of the Russian units?"
Rebecca Kramer had an IQ of a hundred and fifty-eight. Fifty-six years old, she had spent almost all of her adult life within the agency. Campbell's appointment of an agency insider and a woman as Director of the CIA had come as a shock to the intelligence community, breaking a long string of male civilian and military appointees from outside Langley's incestuous circle.
It had been a shrewd move by Campbell, though many had criticized his choice. Promoting from within was a gamble to gain some measure of loyalty to a new president. In the cutthroat world of Washington politics, getting the CIA in your camp was a significant coup. It was debatable whether or not Langley's fidelity would last, or even if it had been given.
"I'm certain, Mister President," Kramer said. "The 22nd Special Purposes Brigade and the 12th motorized infantry, along with an engineering Battalion, the 14th. Our satellites can easily pick out the identifying insignia. We also have HUMINT confirmation."
She saw the question in Campbell's eyes.
"Human intelligence, Mister President. Information from observers on the ground. Moscow is calling it a counterterrorist operation. They're lying. It is certainly more than that. The 22nd is one of their best Spetsnaz outfits, hard core. The satellites show the Russians are in the process of transferring the whole brigade, more than four thousand men. The addition of the 12th will add another five thousand men when it's up to strength. Plus there's that battalion of engineers. They've established a base, they're building an airstrip, and they're bringing more supplies in every day. You don't do something like that unless you're going to war."
"Spetsnaz? What's that?" Campbell asked.
"Spetsnaz is what they call their special forces, sir. They are some of the best soldiers in the world. Like our Delta Force."
"General Kroger, you heard what Director Kramer said. What do you think Tarasov is doing?"
"I don't like it, Mister President. Putting the 22nd down in Syria is disturbing, but it's deploying the motorized brigade that really worries me. The brigade is heavily armed. It adds significant assault strength and firepower. You only bring in that kind of support when you want serious offensive capability. It's much more than you'd need to go after a few terrorists. Not to mention the fact that they've built a full operations base in a matter of weeks, complete with airstrip. When that is complete, it can handle those big Antonovs. I strongly recommend beefing up our presence there. At the moment the Russians have us at a severe disadvantage."
Campbell looked at Kaplan.
"Harold?"
"Sending American troops to Syria will not go down well with the public," Kaplan said. "Our current polling data shows seventy-six percent of the public is in favor of bringing back all of our people in the Middle East. Sending more would be politically unwise."
"Letting the Russians take over Syria would be politically unwise," Kroger said.
"Mister President, our analysis is in line with what General Kroger recommends," Kramer said. "I don't think it's an accident that Tarasov has increased his capabilities in the region at the same time Sevim is planning to attack the Kurds."
"What's his objective?"
"We think Tarasov has his eye on the oil fields in the Kurdish autonomous region."
"You think he's after the oil? They've already got plenty."
Naïve, Kroger thought. He's got a lot to learn.
"Sir, it's not about how much they have," Kroger said. "It's about denying control of the fields to us. Right now we and the Kurds determine what happens to that oil. Those fields are a large part of Syria's total reserves. The Kurds have prevented Damascus from taking control of them, with our help. I believe Director Kramer is right. Tarasov is getting ready to make a move on the fields. All the more reason for us to upgrade our capabilities."
"Congress will resist sending in more troops and equipment," Kaplan said.
"Congress resists anything that might cause them problems when it's time to be reelected," Kroger said. "Letting Tarasov take control of that oil would be a huge strategic mistake. We'd lose Syria for good."
"Mister President, it's possible Tarasov is testing your resolve," Kramer said. "You're unknown at this point, new in the job. He has elections coming up and he needs a public success. The Russians suffer from a collective inferiority complex. If he makes you look bad, it will help his reelection."
General Kroger's opinion of Kramer went up a notch.
She just made it personal. She's good at this.
"I met Tarasov briefly in Paris," Campbell said. "He strikes me as an arrogant man. I don't trust him and I don't like him."
Kaplan spoke up.
"Mister President, perhaps it would be best to wait and see if the Russians really are going after the oil before you consider sending in more forces. An increase in our military presence at this time could be seen as a provocation."
"If we wait until they go into the fields, it will be too late to do anything about it," Kroger said.
"You'd risk a confrontation with Moscow over this?" Kaplan asked.
"There won't be a confrontation if we're wrong about their intentions. But if they're planning to grab that oil, we have to be ready to stop them."
Campbell watched the exchange, held up his hand.
"All right, I've heard enough. Harold, I agree we need more hard evidence the Russians are going to make trouble, before we do anything that could be viewed as provocative. At the same time, General Kroger has a point. We can't let them do whatever they want. General, prepare a military option in response if Tarasov makes a move on those fields. I want something ready to go on a moment's notice."
"Yes, sir. May I make a suggestion?"
"Of course."
"The Russians will roll over the SDF with their tanks. The Kurds are tough fighters, but they need weapons to fight with. I'd like to give them what they need, with your authorization. I'm talking about small arms, antitank weapons, vehicles, antiaircraft missiles. Not major offensive weapons like planes. You don't need congressional permission to do that."
"That seems sensible. Go ahead, General. Make sure the press doesn't get wind of it. Director Kramer, increase your surveillance of the area. I want more information."
"Yes, Mister president."
"Harold, talk to Margaret. Sooner or later, word will get out about the Russian buildup. We have to control the narrative on this."
Margaret Whitcomb was Campbell's Press Secretary.
"Yes, Mister President."
Campbell stood. The others rose automatically.
The meeting was over.
Kramer and General Kroger walked together toward the entrance where their cars waited outside the entrance to the West Wing.
"He's making a mistake," Kroger said. "Typical damn politician. Prepare something, but don't do anything until something happens. If something happens it will be too late to do anything."
"At least he gave you authorization to send weapons."
"You and I both know those weapons won't be enough."
"When Sevim goes into Syria, the Kurds will have their hands full," Kramer said. "If we're right about Tarasov, he'll wait until they're busy beating off the Turks to make his move."
"I'm calling a meeting of the Chiefs for later today. We'll discuss options."
"General, we both know this could escalate. I want you to know you can count on Langley for whatever you need."
"I appreciate that, Director. It would help if I had eyes-on intel from the ground."
"I'll see what I can do."
Kroger nodded. "Nice work with Campbell in there."
"He'll be all right. He just needs time to learn his job. Fortunately, he has us to advise him."
"Kaplan is a problem," Kroger said.
"Yes. His main concern is the president's popularity. National security isn't his strong point. He shouldn't be in his position, but Campbell feels comfortable with him. If it comes down to it, he can be persuaded to take a more realistic position."
"You seem certain of that."
"I am. Let's hope he doesn't have to find that out the hard way."