The Prodigal Daughter (64 page)

Florentyna tried
not to show her anger when the President offered Janet Brown the position of
Under Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services.

Janet didn’t
hesitate over the new opportunity: and in a handwri”en letter to the President
she accepted the great compliment he had paid her but explained in detail why
she felt unable to consider any government position other than to serve the
Vice President.

“If you can wait
four years, so can I,” she explained.

Florentyna had
often read that the life of the Vice President was, to quote John Nance Garner,
“not worth a pitcher of warm spit,” but even she was surprised to find how
little real work she had to do
compared
with her days
in Congress. She had received more letters when she had been a Senator.
Everyone seemed to write to the President or the state representatives. Even
the people had worked out that the Vice President had no power. Florentyna
enjoyed presiding over the Senate for important debates, because it kept her in
contact with colleagues who would be helping her again in four years’ time, and
they made sure she was aware of what was being said covertly in the halls of
Congress, as well as on the House and Senate floor. Many senators used her to
get messages through to the President, but as time went by she began to wonder
whom she should use for the same purpose, as the days turned into weeks in
which Pete Parkin did not bother to consult her on any major issue.

During her first
year as Vice President, Florentyna made goodwill tours to Brazil and Japan,
attended the funerals of Willy Brandt in Berlin and Edward Heath in London,
carried out on-site inspections of three natural disasters and chaired so many
special task forces that she felt qualified to publish her own guide to how the
government works.

The first year
went slowly, the second even more so. The only highlight was representing the
government at the crowning of King Charles III in Westminister Abbey after
Queen Elizabeth 11’s abdication in 1994. Florentyna stayed with Ambassador John
Sawyer at Winfield House, conscious of how similar their respect~ve roles were
in the matter of form over substance. She seemed to spend hours chatting about
how the world was run and what the President was doing on matters such as the
building up of Russian troops on the Pakistan border. She gained most of her
information from the Washington Post and envied Ralph Brooks’s real involvement
as Secretary of State. Although she kept herself well informed on what was going
on in the world at large, for only the second time in her life she was bored.
She longed for 1996, fearing her years as Vice President would yield very few
positive results.

Once Ah Force H
had landed back at Andrews, Florentyna returned to tier work and spent the rest
of the week checking through the State and CIA traffic that had piled up in her
absence abroad. She rested over the weekend even though CBS informed tho public
that the dollar had suffered as a result of the intemational crisis. The Russians
were massing more forces on the Paki,
,tan
border, a
fact that the President had dismissed in his weekly press conference as “not of
great importance.” The Russians, he assured the assembled journalists, were not
interested in crossing any borders into countries that had treaties with the
United States.

During the
following week the panic seemed to subside and the dollar recovered. “It’s a
cosmetic recovery,” Florentyna pointed out to Janet, “caused by the Russians.
The international brokers are reporting that the Bank of Moscow is selling
gold, which was exactly what they did before invading Afghanistan. I do wish
bankers would not treat history on a week-to-week basis.”

Although several
politicians and journalists contacted Florentyna to express their fears, she
could only placate them as she watched proceedings from the wings. She even
considered making an appointment to see the President, but by Friday evening
most Americans were on their way home for a peaceful weekend convinced the
immediate danger had passed.

Florentyna
remained in her office in the west wing that Friday evening and read through
the cables from ambassadors and agents on the Indian subcontinent. The more she
read, the more she felt unable to share the President’s relaxed stance. As there
was very little ~
;he
could do about it, she neatly
stacked tip the papers, put them into a special red folder and prepared to go
home. She checked her watch. 6:32. Edward had flown down from New York and
would be joining her for dinner at 7:30. She was laughing about the thought of
filing her own papers when Janet iushed into the office.

“There’s an
intelligence report that the Russians are mobilizing.”

“Where’s the
President?” was Florentyna’s immediate reaction.

“I’ve no idea. I
saw him leaving the White House by helicopter about three hours ago.”

Florentyria
reopened her file and stared back down at the cables while Janet remained
standing in front of her desk.

“Well, who will
know where he is.”

“You can be sure
Ralph Brooks does,” Janet said.

“Get me the
Secretary of State on the line.”

Janet left for
her own office while Florentyna checked through the reports again. She quickly
went over the sal ient points raised by the American ambassador in Islamabad
before re-reading the assessment of General Pierce Dixon, the chairman of the
joint chiefs of staff
.

The Russians, it
was reliably documented now, had ten divisions of troops on the
Afghanistan-Pakistan border and their forces had been multiplying over the past
few days. It was known that half their Pacific fleet was sailing toward
Karachi, while two battle groups were carrying out “exercises” in the Indian
Ocean. General Dixon had directed an increased intelligence watch when it was
confirmed that fifty MIG 25s and SU 7s had landed at Kabul military airport at
six that evening. Florentyna checked her watch: 7:09.

“Where is the
bloody man?” she said out loud. Her phone buzzed.

“The Secretary
of State on the line for you,” said Janet. Florentyna waited for several
seconds.

“What can I do
for you?” asked Ralph Brooks, sounding as if Florentyna had interrupted him.

“Where is the
President?” she asked for a third time.

“At this moment
he’s on Air Force I,
“ said
Brooks quickly.

“Stop lying,
Ralph. It’s transparent, even on the phone. Now, tell me where the President
is.”

“Halfway
to California.”

“If we have an
increased intelligence watch because the Soviets are on the move, why hasn’t he
been advised to return?”

“We have advised
him, but he had to land to refuel.”

“As you well
know, Air Force I doesn’t need to refuel for that length of journey.”

“He isn’t on Air
Force 1.

“Why
the hell not?”

No reply came.

“I suggest you
level with me, Ralph, even if it’s only to save your own skin.”

There was a
further pause.

“He was on his
way to see a friend in California when the crisis broke.”

“I don’t believe
it,” said Florentyna. “Who does he think he is?
The President
of France?”

“I have
everything under control,” said Brooks, ignoring her comment.

“His plane will
touch down at the Colorado airport in a few minutes’ time. The President will
immediately transfer to an air force F15 and will be back in Washington within
two hours.”

“What type of
aircraft is he on at this moment?” asked Florentyna.

“A private 737
owned by Marvin Snyder of Blade Oil.”

“Can the
President enter the secure National Command Network from the plane?” asked
Florentyna. No reply was forthcoming. “Did you hear what I said?” she rapped
out.

“Yes,” said
Ralph. “The truth is that the plane doesn’t have complete security. We have the
same problem George Bush had when he had no choice but to return to Washington
in a private plane at the time Reagan was shot.”

“Are you telling
me that over the next two hours any ham radio operator could tune in to a
conversation between the -President and the chairman of the
joint
chiefs of staff
?”

“Yes,” admitted
Ralph.

“I’ll see you in
the Situation Room,” said Florentyna, and slammed down the phone.

She came out of
her office almost on the run. Two surprised Secret Service officers quickly
followed her as she headed down the narrow staircase past small portraits of
former Presidents. Washington faced her at the bottom of the stairs before she
turned into the wide corridor that led to the Situation Room. The security
guard already had the door open that led into the secretarial section. She
passed through a room of buzzing Telexes and noisy typewriters while yet
another security man opened the oak-paneled door of the Situation Room for her.
Her Secret Service men remained outside as she marched in.

Ralph Brooks was
seated in the President’s chair giving orders to a bevy of military personnel.
Four of the remaining nine seats werc already occupied-around a table that
almost took up the whole room. Immediately to the right of Brooks sat the
Secretary of Defense, Charles Lee, and on his right the director of the CIA,
Paul Rowe. Opposite them sat the chairman of the
joint chiefs
of staff
, General Dixon, and the national security adviser, Michael
Brewer. The door at the end of the room that led into the communications area
was wide open.

Brooks swung
around to face her. Florentyna had never seen him with his coat off and a shirt
button undone.

“No panic,” he
said. “I’m on top of everything. I’m confident the Rus,
,ians
wvn’t make any move before the President returns.”

“I don’t expect
that’s what the Russians have in mind,” said Florentyna.

“While the
President is unexplainably absent, we must be prepai
ed
for thenn to make any move that suits them.”

“Well, it’s not
your problem, Florentyna. The President has left me in control.”

“On the
contrary, it is my problem,” said Florentyna, firmly refusing to take a seat. “
in
the absence of the President the responsibility for all
military matters passes to me.”

“Now listen,
Florentyna, I’m running the shop and I don’t want you interfering.” Tite gentle
buzz of conversation between personnel around the room came to an abrupt halt
as Brooks stared angrily at Florentyna.

She picked up
the nearest phone. “Put the attorney general on the screen.”

“Yes, ma’am,”
said the operator.

A few seconds
later Pierre Levale’s face appeared on one of the six tele,
,isions
encased in the oak paneling along the side of the wall.

“Good evening,
Pierre, it’s Florentyna Kane. We have an increased intelligence watch on our
hands and for reasons I am not willing to discuss the President is indisposed.
Will you make it clear to the Secretary of State who holds executive
responsibility in such a situation?”

Everyone in the
room stood still and stared up at the worried face on the screen. The lines on
Pierre Levale’s face had never been more pronounced.

They all knew he
had been a Parkin appointment, but he had shown on past occasions that he
thought more highly of the rule of law than of the President.

“The
Constitution is not always clear on these matters,” he began, “especially after
the Bush-Haig showdown following the attempt on Ronald Reagan’s life. But in my
judgment, in the President’s absence all power is vested in the Vice President
and that is how I would advise the Senate.”

“Thank you,
Pierre,” said Florentyna, still looking at the screen. “Please put that in
writing and see that a copy is on the President’s desk immediately on
completion.” The Attorney General disappeared from the screen.

“Now
that that’s settled.
Ralph, brief me quickly.”

Brooks
reluctantly vacated the President’s chair, while a staff officer opened a small
panel below the light switch by the door. He pressed a button and the veige
curtain that stretched along the wall behind the President’s chair opened. A
large screen came down from the ceiling with a map of the world on it.

Charles Lec, the
Secretary of Defense, rose from his chair as different colored lights shone all
over the map. “The lights indicate the position of all known hostile forces,”
he said as Florentyna swung around to face the map. “The red ones are
submarines, the green ones aircraft and the blue ones full army divisions.”

“A West Point
plebe looking at the map could tell you exactly what the Russians have in
mind,” said Florentyna as she stared at the mass of red lights in the Indian
Ocean, green lights at Kabul airport and blue lights stretched along
Afghanistan’s border with Pakistan.

Paul Rowe then
confirmed that the Russians had been massing an-nies on the Pakistan border for
several days and within the last hour a coded message from a CIA agent behind
the lines suggested that the Soviets intended to cross the border of Pakistan
at ten o’clock Eastern Standard Time. He handed her a set of decoded cables and
answered each of her questions as they arose.