Drone Threat

25

Pearce and Grafton were in her office reviewing the list of phone numbers and talking points for the day’s round of calls. Pearce was impressed with Grafton’s encyclopedic knowledge of the senators in question and even more so with their senior staffs. Nearly a quarter of the Senate was age seventy or older; several were in their eighties. If Hillary Clinton had been flummoxed by fax machine technology in 2009, then how many other septuagenarians were likewise unable to keep up with the startling technological changes today? Whatever thoughts the aging Senate might have on drone tech, they would have to have been informed by their younger, more knowledgable staff, who formulated most of their policy positions anyway.

Pearce and Grafton divided up their workload accordingly. Pearce would call the senators to massage their egos and ease their concerns after Grafton vetted the appropriate staff personnel. It was a decent plan, and Pearce knew Grafton had a long record of success in corralling votes for Chandler.

“You about ready?” Grafton asked. She slipped a sheet of paper across her desk.

“Yeah. I guess so.” He had ten calls to make, the first to Senator Floyd, a follow-up.

She saw his reluctance. “It won’t be that bad. Just close your eyes and think of England.”

Pearce picked up the phone. “Isn’t Floyd a waste of time?”

“Floyd’s been telling his staff you practically bitch-slapped him in the hearing. But he figures that if you’re willing to speak your mind when your nomination is on the line, you won’t hold back when it really counts.” Grafton’s offered a half smile. “Good job, cowboy.”

Pearce glanced at his iWatch: 9:55 a.m. Better to wait a few more minutes for Floyd to get settled in before he called. But it wasn’t Floyd he was worried about. It was today’s twelve o’clock ISIS deadline that was really on his mind.

President Lane, Vice President Chandler, and Ambassador Tarkovsky were seated on the couches and chairs facing one another. Coffee and croissants sat on the table in front of them. Chandler tried to hide his obvious enthusiasm behind a mask of thoughtful reflection. Lane’s hands were folded, his face dark with skepticism as Tarkovsky spoke.

“The United States and Russia have many more things in common than not, including our enemies, especially ISIS. We share the same strategic imperative to eradicate them.”

“Some of my advisors think you only oppose ISIS because you support Assad, a tyrant and despot.” Lane reached for his coffee.

“We only support Assad for the same reason your country supported Mubarak, Qaddafi, Saddam, and even Assad himself, as well as his father, in the not-too-distant past. Not because you are in favor of totalitarianism, but because you knew they were the strongest hands to keep the lid on the revolutionary and radical forces always simmering underneath.”

“In the long run, it’s never in our best interests to support dictators,” Chandler said. “That puts both of our countries on the wrong side of history.”

Tarkovsky nodded thoughtfully. He anticipated Chandler’s rebuttal. The two of them had already rehearsed today’s conversation by phone. Chandler knew that Lane would get his back up if the two of them appeared to be making common cause. Chandler decided a little good cop/bad cop was in order.

“The wrong side of history? Perhaps,” Tarkovsky said. “But history has many sides. By abandoning the shah, you got the Iranian revolution. By pushing us out of Afghanistan, you got the Taliban and gave al-Qaeda an operating base. By toppling Saddam, you got ISIS. By toppling your ally Qaddafi, you gave ISIS a foothold in Libya. By promoting the Arab spring in Egypt, Mubarak fell, and the Muslim Brotherhood took power — until a right-wing coup by the army overthrew them. If I may be so bold, you Americans have a strange history of destroying secular regimes in the Middle East, and yet you are surprised when they’re replaced by theocratic dictatorships.”

Lane sat up. “May I be frank?”

Tarkovsky smiled. “Of course.”

“My hunch is that President Titov wants to fight ISIS only to bolster his credibility with the West in order to end the sanctions we’ve imposed on his government for the invasion of Crimea. This is all about economics, not security.”

“Economics and security are inseparable. The purpose of the 9/11 attacks was to collapse the American economy. If ISIS seizes the oil fields of the Middle East, they will have an even greater weapon to use against every Western economy.”

Lane sat back, tenting his fingers in front of his face as if in prayer, thinking. A strategic partnership with Russia wasn’t the worst idea in the world — certainly out of the box. But his gut was telling him that something wasn’t right.

He glanced up at the analogue clock on the wall. It read 11:55 a.m. He hadn’t thought about the letter until now.

He caught Chandler studying his face.

“Something on your mind, Clay?”

Chandler shrugged. “Maybe it was just a hoax.” He spoke cryptically. Tarkovsky was out of the loop.

Lane glanced back at the sweeping second hand. “We’ll know soon enough.”