Executive Intent (29 page)

“There can be no cessation of defensive air operations around Aden until the security situation is improved enough for rescue-and-recovery forces to enter the harbor and surrounding areas,” Li insisted. “I do not care about such things as insurance rates while brave Chinese sailors lie dead and injured in hostile waters. The United States will never—”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please,” Boris Tarzov said, holding up hands both to the Chinese and American representatives, his voice even more insistent this time. “Obviously something must be done to assure Chinese rescue forces can operate safely in the harbor. The
Vladimir Putin
carrier task force is just a day or two from the area, and they have a light infantry force, approximately two marine companies, I believe, embarked. May I propose that Russian marines be allowed to land ashore and secure the harbor area so Chinese rescue-and-recovery units can operate safely?”

“Exchange Russian marines for Chinese fighter-bombers?” Colby remarked. “What kind of deal is that?”

“What exactly are you implying, Mr. Ambassador?” Tarzov
asked. “Are you suggesting that our marines would form some sort of invasion force? American Marines come ashore all over the world for all sorts of humanitarian, peacekeeping, and security missions, and no one suggests they are an invasion force. This would strictly be a security operation, with no more than five hundred or so marines and a few transport helicopters involved, which I feel should be more than sufficient to suppress any more acts of violence. Russia built the airfield and most of the modern harbor facilities in Aden, so I believe we are very well familiar with the layout of the area.” Ambassadors Li and Colby glared at each other. “Then I hereby move that the Russian naval task-force commander approaching Yemen be placed in charge of an operation to provide security for Chinese rescue-and-recovery forces operating in the harbor at Aden.”

“A motion has been made,” Nascimento said. “Second?”

“And all Chinese so-called defensive operations cease immediately?” Colby asked.

“Cease upon arrival of Russian marines in the harbor,” Li said.

“My motion is amended to include the order that all Chinese defensive and offensive operations of all kind cease upon arrival of Russian marines in the Aden harbor,” Tarzov said.

“May I have a second?” Nascimento repeated.

“And China will receive assistance in conducting an investigation of the bombing of our warship?” Li asked.

“As soon as Russian marines have secured the area, Chinese forensic and military investigators may enter—”

“Multinational investigators, including U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation and Naval Criminal Investigative Service agents, may actively participate in any investigation,” Colby interjected.

“This will be a Chinese investigation, Mr. Colby!” Ambassador Li retorted.

“The fox investigating the missing chickens, Mr. Li?”

“How dare you
…
!”

“Gentlemen,
please,
” Boris Tarzov interjected, spitting out the word
please
with extra emphasis. “Lives are at stake here!” Colby and Li went back to glaring at each other. “The participation of equal numbers of multinational investigators is a reasonable request, to be led by a Chinese official,” Tarzov went on, “and I hereby amend my motion to include it, as long as all findings made by each team of investigators shall be shared by all other investigation teams, by all participating nations including Yemen, and the Security Council. Are there any other proposed amendments?”

There were none, so Nascimento asked, “May I have a second, please?” The delegate from France raised his hand. “Thank you, I have a second to the motion. As this is an emergency session of the Security Council, I ask that each delegation contact their respective ministries by secure telephone from their seats. I shall call for a vote in fifteen minutes. Thank you.”

“This is not good,” Colby whispered to his deputy as he picked up the telephone.

T
HE
W
HITE
H
OUSE

A
FEW MINUTES LATER

Despite the early hour, the residence of the president in the White House was already abuzz in activity. White House Chief of Staff Walter Kordus found President Gardner in his bedroom, throwing clothes into a suitcase. “Mr. President, I told you I'd have Mrs. Line do that for you,” he said. He held up a cordless phone. “The Security Council is meeting right now, and Marcus Colby is asking about the vote. Where's Mrs. Line?”

“The first lady is out of town, I can't find my lightweight suit for Arizona, and Mrs. Line doesn't know the difference between golf shoes and scuba flippers,” Gardner complained. “I sent her to get me some coffee. What's the deal with the Security Council?”

“They're discussing Yemen and China,” Kordus said. “The motion before them right now is about letting Russian marines set up security around Aden so China can get their men and ship out of the harbor.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Gardner swore. “Russian marines in Yemen? How many?”

“A few hundred.”

“Doesn't sound too bad to me,” the president said distractedly, throwing clothes into the suitcase, then throwing them back on the bed. “What does Stacy say?”

“Her secure phone isn't working in Beijing. We're working on an alternate hookup. She might have to go to the embassy.”

“Great. Perfect.” Gardner was about to pick up another rolled-up pair of socks, then gave up and motioned for the phone.

“Marcus?” He glared at the phone. “It's dead. Great. All the phones are on the fritz.” Kordus took the phone back, hit the “HOLD” button, and gave it back to Gardner. The president scowled at him before speaking: “Marcus?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“What's going on?”

“The motion offered by the Russians is to allow Russian marines into the port of Aden to secure it,” the United Nations ambassador responded. “China is to stop all offensive and defensive operations as soon as the Russians arrive. Russia suggests a force of five hundred marines, about half of what they bring in their carrier battle group. The U.S., Russia, China, and Yemen can send an equal number of investigators to find out who attacked the Chinese destroyer, to be led by a Chinese official, and everyone has to share information with the others and with the council. France seconded.”

“What do you think?”

“It'll stop the Chinese from bombarding the city,” Colby said. “That's a start.”

Gardner looked over to Kordus, who was on the house line, motioning to him. “Hold on, Marcus.” He covered the mouthpiece and nodded at Kordus. “What?”

“The vice president is in the Situation Room and wants to know if you want him to come up.”

“Doesn't that guy ever sleep?” the president asked. He thought hard for a moment; then: “Tell him I'll talk with him in the Oval Office before I leave.” On his phone he said, “Marcus, I'm getting ready to leave for a campaign swing out west. What's the bottom line here?”

“Five hundred Russians on the ground in Yemen backed up by a carrier task force, together with a Chinese carrier task force, all within a few miles of each other in one of the world's most strategic sea choke points,” Colby said. “Our closest carrier battle group is about five hundred miles east; we have components of an amphibious ready group in Djibouti, just a hundred miles away or so. The upside: China stops bombing Yemen.”

“That's it?”

“They took us by surprise, sir.”

“That seems to be the norm around here these days,” the president muttered, directing his remark sideways at Kordus. “What's the council looking like?”

“China is definitely the victim here so far, sir,” Colby said. “Everyone believes it was Islamist retaliation for the Chinese attacks against the pirates in Somalia. They're surprised and maybe dismayed at the Chinese air attacks in the city, but I think everyone will give China the benefit of the doubt as long as the attacks cease right away. The Russian ambassador is popular and seen as a neutral arbiter.”

“What's the bottom line, Marcus?” the president asked impatiently.

“You'll have to veto to defeat the measure, sir,” Colby said. “Everyone else except Great Britain will vote in favor, and I don't think they will veto. You can abstain or vote no, but if it passes it'll look bad that the measure passed without the United States' concurrence.”

“Swell.” The president caught Kordus looking at his watch—he had to leave right away to keep to the campaign schedule. “Okay, Marcus, go ahead and vote in favor. I'll be airborne in thirty minutes—you can update me then.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

Gardner tossed the phone back to Kordus. “I told Marcus to vote in favor. As long as China stops their little hissy fit, I don't care if a few Russian marines look tough in Yemen.”

“Yes, sir. I'll brief Secretary Barbeau and Conrad on the way to Andrews. The vice president is in the Oval Office.”

“Let's go.” The president made sure his golf clothes were in the suitcase, closed it up, and strode out—the staff would bring anything else he needed for the other events, but as long as he was ready for a half round of golf with the Arizona candidates and the photo ops that followed, he was satisfied.

Vice President Ken Phoenix met him in the hallway outside the Oval Office. “Good morning, Mr. President,” he said, looking far
too chipper for Gardner's mood. He followed the president into the Oval Office. “The Security Council meeting…?”

“The Council moved to allow Russian marines to set up security in the city to allow China to get their ship and casualties out,” Gardner said, checking messages on his PDA, leaving a few messages for his secretary, then straightening his tie in preparation for greeting onlookers before heading for the South Lawn to board Marine One. “I told Colby to vote in favor.”

“In favor of allowing armed Russian marines in Yemen?” Phoenix asked incredulously.

“In favor of getting China to stop bombing the city, getting their sailors out, and putting everything back to normal,” the president said impatiently. “The council was pretty solid for the measure.”

“The Russian marines are from that
Putin
carrier task force in the Gulf of Aden?”

“I guess.”

“So the Russians and Chinese will have carriers in the Gulf of Aden, with troops on the ground in both Somalia and Yemen, and the closest counterforce we have is in the Arabian Sea?”

“The chopper's waiting, Ken. What's the problem?”

“We could have stalled the vote until we moved the
Reagan
carrier group closer,” Phoenix said.

“Why would we do that? There's already too many freakin' carriers in the Gulf of Aden already.”

“The United States controls the world's oceans, sir—you've said that a thousand times,” Phoenix argued. “But right now there are two foreign aircraft-carrier battle groups in a very strategic location, and we have
none
. We've lost the advantage out there.”

“We haven't lost anything, Ken. What we did was stop China from bombing Aden.”

“China was running out of legitimate targets with their fighter-bombers anyway—they were going to have to stop on their own,” Phoenix said. “We could have vetoed—”

“I don't like overusing the veto, Ken. You know that.”

“At the very least we could have voted no and registered our disapproval.”

“But I don't disapprove,” the president said. “It's a couple hundred Russians—hell, they were probably going to be in Aden anyway on shore leave.”

“Except now they'll have guns and a mandate from the United Nations Security Council!”

“I don't see a problem, Ken,” Gardner insisted. “We'll keep an eye on them, and if they step out of line, we'll slam them.”

“Perhaps sending some other forces out there would show everyone we're watching,” Phoenix said. “Maybe an Air Force bomber to overfly the Russian and Chinese fleets, take a few pictures, show the flag?”

“Like that mysterious B-1 bomber squadron that attacked that base in Turkey?”

“Mysterious? I understood you ordered the attack on Diyarbakir; I briefed you on the mission myself. Next thing I knew, it was over.”

The president didn't want to tell Phoenix that he ended up taking responsibility for the mission, even though he did not order it—another end run around the law and the chain of command performed by none other than Patrick McLanahan, with help by his secret mentor, former president Kevin Martindale. “Never mind. Yes, that squadron. I'll ask Conrad and Miller to make some suggestions. What else is going on?”

“We'll have a draft of the new space policy drawn up by the end of the day,” the vice president replied. “I'm still not for a unilateral ban on antisatellite weapons, but all the other provisions you were looking for are in there.”

“Excellent. Fast work,” the president said. “I'm willing to discuss the unilateral ban, but I think it'll send the right message to other space-faring nations—America is not out to control space.” He noticed Kordus nodding at him, motioning toward the door.
“I've got to go, Ken. I'll talk to you on the staff conference call.” He shook hands with Phoenix, turned on a heel, and departed without another word.

On board Marine One, the helicopter that would take him from the White House South Lawn to Andrews Air Force Base, the president fastened his seat belt, then checked his secure PDA again for any messages. As they lifted off, Chief of Staff Kordus held up a note. “We found something.”

“On what or whom?”

“McLanahan,” Kordus said. “We knew that McLanahan was a director for a nonprofit think tank and education foundation called Progress for Space and Military Future Policy. McLanahan has given several unpaid speeches around the country to industry and civil-military advocacy groups on behalf of this group, touting increased awareness and funding for military space programs, acceleration of military space development, blah blah.”