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For decades, America had been known in Russia as the Main Enemy. The phrase had gone out of style for a while, but memories in Russia were long. Old habits died hard. News of the firefight between Russian and American troops sent a shockwave through the country. No one considered the possibility Russian troops might have fired first. Within hours of the news going public, a large, angry crowd had gathered in front of the American Embassy in Moscow to protest the U.S. presence in Syria.
President Tarasov and General Kerensky watched the crowd on a monitor in Tarasov's office.
"We could not have planned anything more effective than this," Tarasov said. "I want pictures of the men who were killed on the front page of every newspaper."
"I agree, Mister President, it's an excellent opportunity. Perhaps you could visit the families. Or bring them here to the Kremlin for a presentation of medals and the gratitude of the nation."
"I sometimes wonder which of us is the more cynical, General."
"I prefer to think of it as utilizing opportunity," Kerensky said.
"Was it really an accident?"
"Yes, sir, it was. The commander in the field believed he was firing on Kurdish vehicles."
"We fired first?"
"Yes, sir."
"Perhaps we should give him a medal as well. It's either that, or a posting to Siberia."
"Major Gorky screwed up, but a medal would be better. After all, he did take out the American units, even if his mistake got his men killed. A medal ceremony would be a popular move."
"Very well. Set it up."
"Yes, sir."
"I understand that Colonel Volkova's brother was killed, heroically."
"Yes, sir. Captain Volkov was part of Major Gorky's unit. He died from wounds sustained when he rescued two of his crewmen from their burning vehicle."
"Let's award Gorky the Medal of Suvarov for heroism in combat. At the same time we'll give the Gold Star to Captain Volkov. Colonel Volkova can accept it for him. We'll televise the ceremony. The public will like it."
The official name of the Gold Star medal was Hero of the Russian Federation. It was Russia's highest military award.
"May I suggest that we also include Captain Volkov's mother at the ceremony? Perhaps even present the medal to her, while Colonel Volkova stands at her side?"
Tarasov nodded. "An excellent idea."
"Have you heard from the Americans yet?" Kerensky said.
"Not yet. I'm sure I won't have long to wait."
"What do you think they'll do?"
"I don't expect them to do anything. At least not anything important. They'll complain and threaten some sort of retaliation, but nothing will come of it. Their President doesn't have the balls, and even if he did, the American Congress would cut them off. What's the situation in Syria?"
"Except for isolated pockets of resistance, we've established control of most major distribution points and about two thirds of the oil fields. The Kurdish forces have consolidated and are retreating into the Northeast quadrant. They're battered, but hold good defensive positions."
"How long till it's done?"
"Hard to say, Mister President. A month, perhaps. They are very stubborn fighters."
A knock sounded. One of the tall double doors opened and an aide stepped into the room.
"What is it?" Tarasov said.
"Mister President, the American president is calling."
"Send in the translator. Then put him through."
"Yes, sir."
The man withdrew.
"This should be interesting," Tarasov said.
The translator came in, a captain in uniform. He came to attention and saluted.
"Mister President. Where do you want me?"
"Right there, by the desk."
Tarasov picked up the phone. He activated the speaker and recorder.
"Mister President."
"President Tarasov. I'm calling about the event in Syria."
"Which event would that be, Mister President? Are you talking about the unprovoked attack on our forces by your so-called advisors?"
Kerensky nodded his approval.
In Washington, President Campbell covered the mouthpiece of the phone. He'd asked General Kroger to be present during the call.
"The son of a bitch wants to play hardball."
"He's trying to intimidate you," Kroger said. "He needs to know you won't put up with it."
Campbell uncovered the mouthpiece. "I'm not going to play games, President Tarasov. Regardless of who fired first, the fact that American lives have been lost forces me to tell you that the United States will not tolerate further aggression."
"Is that a threat, Mister President?"
"Not at all. Merely a bit of advice. You and I are not friends, President Tarasov. I regret that is the case. I hope we may have an opportunity to remedy that in the future. You do not know me well. Please do not underestimate my resolve in this matter. Things have gone far enough in Syria. I suggest that you withdraw your troops back across the Euphrates, in the interests of better relations between our two nations. Acknowledgment of responsibility and an expression of regret for the deaths of our soldiers would go a long way toward improving those relations."
In Moscow, Kerensky raised his eyebrows.
"President Campbell, it is true we do not know each other. You tell me not to underestimate your resolve. I tell you, do not make that mistake with me. We are in Syria as the legitimate ally of the regime, carrying out actions against bandits who have been stealing resources from the Syrian people. Stealing those resources, I might add, with your assistance. We will not change our decision to remove these bandits once and for all. You offer advice. Let me do the same for you. Do not interfere with our operations in the region. The results might not be to your liking."
"That is your final word on the matter, Mister President?"
"It is the United States which should apologize. Stay out of Syria, Mister President. It is no longer in your interest to remain there. If you wish better relations between our countries, you will cease your provocations against us."
Tarasov disconnected.
"You may leave," Tarasov said to the translator.
"Sir."
Kerensky waited until the man had left the room.
"That was well done, Mister President."
"There's nothing he can do," Tarasov said. "The United States has become a paper tiger. If he leaves his advisors in place, they will be a small island surrounded by a sea of Russian strength. He has no option but to pull them out. We will graciously allow them to withdraw."
Tarasov got up and went to a sideboard. He filled two glasses from a bottle of vodka and brought one over to Kerensky.
"A toast, General. To a new era, one where we have regained our rightful place in the world."
"It has been a long time coming," Tarasov said.
The two men drank.
On the other side of the world, President Campbell was angry.
"General Kroger."
"Sir?"
"That arrogant bastard hung up on me. He needs to understand that I will not be intimidated. I've considered your suggestion regarding blockading the Dardanelles. You've discussed this with the other chiefs? Admiral Stone?"
"Yes, sir. At length."
"Their opinion?"
"The chiefs are united. In our judgment, a blockade is the most effective way to pressure the Russians without putting our troops in harm's way."
"What do you think the Russians will do, General?"
"They'll bluster, sir. They'll probably go to the UN and accuse us of warmongering. But they're not going to do anything foolish like trying to run the blockade with one of their warships."
"What will happen if they try?"
"We'll warn them not to proceed. If necessary, fire warning shots to discourage them. If they continue, we will disable their vessel."
"This could escalate," Campbell said.
"There may be some limited incidents. Tarasov isn't going to risk a major war with us, Mister President. He'll negotiate."
"What about our Rangers? Should we leave them in place or bring them home?"
"With all due respect, sir, if you pull them out now, Tarasov will see that as a sign of weakness. I recommend leaving them in place."
"Very well, but I want extraction ready if things heat up."
"Yes, sir."
"Prepare to institute the blockade if we can't resolve this in any other way. I'm going to request an emergency meeting of the UN Security Council. We'll try diplomacy first. If that fails, we'll put the blockade in place. In the meantime, go to DEFCON 3. That will show Tarasov we're taking this seriously."
"Yes, Mister President."
He's coming around, Kroger thought. Kramer will like this.