The General's President (11 page)

Here the Iranian army had set up a defense zone in depth, suited to the circumstances, but apparently it too was manned mostly by second-class troops. Reportedly and apparently, when the Soviets had begun their threatening military demonstrations north of the border, the Iranians had hurried demolition squads to bridges along the sole highway, to blow them if and when the Russians invaded. Numerous other small units had already been located close below strategic ridge crests and in side valleys, from which they could either shell bridges, and the road itself where it traversed steep sideslopes, or make coordinated strikes against Soviet military columns on the highway.

However, there was no indication of major fighting. Apparently and predictably, the Soviets had dropped
spetsnaz
forces at numerous points to take bridges before they could be blown, and to destroy hardened artillery and rocket emplacements. Also, after sharp air attacks, airborne assault battalions, elites of the Red Army, had been landed to destroy or disperse Iranian counter-strike forces which the Soviet command considered important enough.

Nonetheless, the Iranians had destroyed several bridges, and the highway had been severely damaged in a number of awkward-to-repair places. Soviet engineering units, equipped with motorized, prefabricated bridge sections, giant Mi-6 and Mi-10 transport helicopters, heavy construction equipment, and specially trained and equipped demolition specialists, had moved quickly to span ravines and in general clear the highway of obstructions as the army came to them.

Despite Russian dawn airstrikes on Iranian airfields, the Iranian Air Force had managed to fly sorties on both fronts, but both their electronic countermeasures and their surviving numbers were inadequate in the face of the world's best mobile surface-to-air defenses. USAF radio monitors in Turkey reported fights between Iranian and Soviet planes, and losses by both sides.

That was the status of the Soviet-Iranian war eight hours after it began. Haugen frowned thoughtfully, reached for a house phone, then changed his mind.

"Thank you, Ernie," he said, and left the room. Walking briskly to his office suite, he paused at Martinelli's desk.

"Ms. Martinelli," he said as she looked up, "what is your first name?"

"Why, Jeanne, Mr. President."

"Good. I noticed that first day that Milstead and others called you Ms, Martinelli, so I've been following their example. But as frequently as I speak to you, I'd rather call you 'Jeanne.' If that's all right with you."

"That's fine, sir. You can call me Jeanne if you prefer. I suppose the others call me 'Ms. Martinelli' because President Donnelly did."

"Good. Jeanne, get General Cromwell on the phone for me."

"Certainly, sir. And sir, Mr. Okada asked to talk to you as soon as practical."

"Okay, I'll take him first."

He went into his office wondering what she'd say if he invited her to call him Arne. No point in breaking needlessly with tradition though. He hadn't sat down yet when she buzzed him. "Mr. Okada was across the street, sir. At the Executive Office Building. He should be here in three or four minutes."

"Thanks." Haugen's eyes moved to the clock and he sat back to wait. There was a moving-belt underground walkway from the Executive Office Building; three or four minutes was a reasonable prediction.

Actually it took three minutes and twenty seconds for his press secretary to arrive.

"Good morning, Mr. President."

"Good morning, Lester. What is it you want?"

"The White House press corps is pretty eager to find out what you've been doing; they've been after me about it, actually. And it occurred to me that it might be good public relations if I could schedule a press conference for you.

Haugen frowned. "What do you mean, they've been after you?"

"Their spokesman, their pipeline to me, is Frederick Rohmer of the AP. He called me at seven this morning and said they want to hear your reaction to the Soviet invasion of Iran."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I hadn't had a chance to talk to you about it yet." Okada paused, clearly not done yet. "You could brief me, of course, or have Mr. Milstead brief me..."

The president was frowning: The Secret Service would shit a brick if he let the press back into the White House. "Where would a press conference be held?"

"I've arranged for a room across the street to be available for presidential press conferences. When I talk to them, I go to the temporary press area in the Quaker Hotel."

"Okay. Tell them I'll talk to them across the street at—" Haugen looked at the clock. "At eight-thirty."

"This morning?" Okada was clearly startled.

"Why not?"

"Well, it's already five after eight."

"They'll just have to hustle around and get there. It's feasible for them, isn't it?"

"It would be calling it pretty closely sir, for the television coverage. But what I meant, sir, is—That doesn't give you any time to prepare. Briefings and so forth."

"Lester, I've been getting briefed for the last several days. I'll tell you something. I'm going to be communicating with the public more than any president in history, and if I have to spend a lot of time getting ready, each time I decide to talk, I'll never get anything else done.

"Tell them ten o'clock then. That'll give me time to look at the daily intelligence summary. That'll have to be preparation enough." He grinned. "If they try to eat me alive, it may get pretty interesting."

Okada nodded, clearly worried. "Yes sir." It seemed as if he was going to say something further, then decided to let it go at that.

"Is that all, Lester?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Fine. Let 'em know. Now I've got things to do."

He reached to his phone as Okada left, and buzzed Martinelli. "Jeanne, call General Cromwell for me now."

He waited. After a few moments, Cromwell's face appeared on the screen. "Jumper," Haugen said, "I want a briefing on the Kremlin. I've already read a written brief provided by State, but I'd like an outside viewpoint. And I remember hearing about some deputy Soviet ambassador who defected about three years ago. You mentioned him when we were in Canada—said he was the most interesting source you ever heard. How do I get in touch with him? Without going through State?"

"Mr. President, if we're going to talk about that, let's run this conversation through a scrambler. Have you been shown how?"

"Hammaker showed me."

"Good. And it's probably best if you take it on your privacy receiver. Okay?"

"Be my guest."

The line and screen both cleared. Haugen rapped keys and picked up the old-style receiver from its cradle. After about ten seconds, Cromwell's voice spoke to him from it. "His name is Nikita Bulavin, sir. Naturally he's been sentenced to death by the Kremlin, for treason, and the KGB would love to assassinate him. So he's under careful security. Even the CIA doesn't know where he is; I can practically guarantee it. And not more than three people in the FBI. State doesn't have the foggiest where he is.

"But it so happens that I can get in touch with him personally. When would you like to see him?"

"Is this afternoon feasible?"

"I'm pretty sure it is. How about 1400 hours? If he can't make it then, I'll let you know."

"Good. Where?"

"How about your office?" Cromwell asked.

"That's fine with me. Give me a rundown on him."

"He's ex-GRU—Soviet Military Intelligence—a major general. But earlier he was what the Sovs call an illegal—that is, he ran a GRU spy ring in California, He's about as experienced and cool as anyone you'll ever meet. His English is excellent and we've had his face altered. Even his mannerisms are American. He'll walk in there as if he paid taxes. Which he does these days."

"At 1400 hours, you say?"

"If that's all right with you, Mr. President. He'll arrive there as military—a bird colonel. Colonel Schubert."

"Huh! I look forward to it."

"One thing more sir. Have you decided about the Saudi request yet? For fighter squadrons?"

The president frowned. "What's that about?" There was a lag in Cromwell's response, as if in reaction to the president's not having heard. "We got it by the grapevine that the Saudi ambassador got in touch with State last night. They've asked for a couple of USAF fighter squadrons; they're worried about the Soviets."

"What time did he call?"

"About 3 A.M. our time. About 10 A.M. there."

"I may have something about it on my desk. What problems would that make for the Air Force?"

"Trenary says none. He says we could have them there in thirty-six hours. Their support unit would take a little longer, but they could use Saudi support people to begin with."

"I'll let you know," Haugen said. "And thanks for bringing it up.

"I'm going to hang up now, Jumper. I've having a press conference across the street at 1000 hours, my first. I don't know when they'll telecast it. Maybe live. Watch if you have a chance. You can critique my performance."

***

As usual at a presidential press conference, the room was filled. Haugen stepped up and looked around.

"Ladies, gentlemen, I don't know the protocol here, but I'm going to set my own ground rules. When you've been picked to ask a question, give your name and affiliation before you ask it. I like to know who I'm talking to, and TV viewers may also want to know.

"All right, let's start." He pointed. "Yes."

"Betsy Mitchum,
Omaha World Herald
. What is the government's formal position on the Soviet invasion of Iran?"

"Our position is that it's a criminal invasion of a sovereign nation. The Kremlin's claim that it attacked to save Iraq from genocide is not believable. First, the Iranians were not carrying out genocide; genocide has become a buzz word. What Hitler carried out against European Jews and Gypsies was genocide. Secondly, in the past, the Kremlin didn't hesitate to kill large numbers of people, millions of them, within its own boundaries. And even given that Stalin is long dead, it's hard to credit the Kremlin with that much concern over human rights and lives. I think we can say they have other purposes that we haven't identified yet.

"Next." He pointed. "The slender man in the plaid jacket. Yes."

"Have you divested yourself of your financial holdings in Duluth Technologies, and if not, why not?" The words per se were not offensive, but the tone they were delivered in was accusatory, hostile.

The room became abruptly still, almost breathless. This president operated under extraordinary powers, and the country was under martial law.

"I'm sorry," said Haugen, "but you didn't identify yourself. Start over again."

"I don't see why I should identify myself!" The voice was defiant now. "You're just trying to intimidate us! If we announce our names, you can put anyone on your hit list if you don't like their question."

Haugen looked quizzically at the man. "You're right," he said, "I could. But I wouldn't." He scanned around. "Next?"

The reporters didn't react with their usual alacrity. Then one hand went up, another, and another.

"The tall man in the blue shirt. Yes."

"I'm Roger Brent.
U.S.A. Today
. I found the last question interesting.
Have
you divested yourself of your Duluth Technologies stocks? And if not, why not?"

"No, Roger, I haven't. For one thing, I don't consider them an investment; they constitute control, of a company I've spent most of my life developing. It's my creation—the child of my mind, you might say. And I don't know how long I'll hold the presidency, but presumably not long. Hopefully not more than two years and very possibly not even one. Duluth Technologies is where I'll return when I'm done in Washington.

"And beyond that, there's a technical reason. It's not an open corporation, it's a family corporation. I can't offer the stock on the market; in fact, I'm closely limited in who I can sell it to. But the main reason is the one I gave before.

"Next. The lady in the russet suit. Yes."

"Elaine Guttierez,
L.A. Times
. Mr. President, I realize you've only been in office for a few days, but when can we expect to see some further economic measures to improve the condition of the public?"

"Most of my time in office has been spent in briefings, finding out what goes on behind the scenes and how the machinery works. President Donnelly took the immediate, and most obvious, coping-type steps. The necessary first aid measures. The military has authorization to follow up with other measures of the same general kind, as needed. They're the people with organization, who are out there on a day after day basis, seeing what's happening. The next stage, the stage that's just getting started, is a diagnosis of what the root problems are. Treatments will follow that. Expect to hear some specifics in under three weeks." Once more he looked and pointed. "The man in the plaid jacket again."

This time he identified himself. "Robert Mantes, the
American Daily Flag
." The man's eyes were bright. "Are you not, in fact, a dictator instead of a president?"

Haugen didn't blink. "First of all,
president
is a term applied to someone who presides. Right now I'm presiding over the government of the United States, so the title fits. As for dictator, in the sense of the authority I hold, I suppose that fits too. But for obvious reasons, the word carries a lot of heavy emotional luggage, dating from the days of Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin, to name familiar examples. Or Papa Doc Duvalier. So I would hope people will think of me as the president and not as a dictator.

"Meanwhile I understand your concern, which I'm sure that more than a few people share. But I haven't exactly been throwing my weight around. I will throw it around later, to a degree, as I decide on what changes need to be made. I'll have to, to make things move. But I don't expect to throw it around against the public. I'll be throwing it against parts of the system, as lightly as feasible, as heavily as necessary, in order to get the system moving. Like pushing a car stuck in the snow.

"This government will be installing some rather basic changes, in the direction of making the entire country more effective while protecting individual liberties. And things won't always run smoothly. But then, when have they? Read the history of the 1780s and 90s to get a picture of a nation adjusting, and at times flapping around. "First aid won't keep the patient alive for long, let alone get him healthy again. So we'll complete our diagnosis and apply some systemic prescriptions.