Commander-in-Chief

39

Air Force One left Andrews Field on Joint Base Andrews at ten p.m., lifting off into a clear October sky and turning north over the Atlantic Ocean to skirt the eastern seaboard on its way toward Europe. On climb-out President Ryan looked out the portal next to his desk, down at the black water below, and he wondered if somewhere down there, lurking below the waves, was a 113-meter-long metal tube filled with Russians, nuclear weapons, and bad intentions.

He’d been getting daily updates about the hunt for the Knyaz Oleg. Five of the Navy’s newest antisubmarine warfare aircraft, the P-8A Poseidon, flown out of Naval Air Station Jacksonville, had been patrolling the length of the coast in rotation twenty-four hours a day since the evening before the best estimates put the Knyaz Oleg in the area. U.S. Navy destroyers, cruisers, and littoral combat ships were off the coast now, too, using their sonars as well as their helicopter-based sonar systems, trying to find a needle in a haystack.

The U.S. Coast Guard was also out in force, although they had lost their principal antisubmarine warfare role in 1992 with the fall of the Soviet Union. Much of their mission now involved searching for periscopes and conning towers, sending cutters out from the Mid-Atlantic state ports and investigating potential sightings from civilian surface ships, of which there had been hundreds.

There was an immense area for the Navy and Coast Guard to search, obviously. The Office of Naval Intelligence had determined that the Russian vessel was heading toward the United States from the North Atlantic, which meant the entire East Coast of the United States was its possible destination. There were assumptions made after that, of course; ONI assumed the Russians would want to stay in international waters, which meant it would remain at least twelve nautical miles from any U.S. land. By looking at the oceanic geography of the East Coast — areas of shallows, areas of high current or other poor conditions — and taking into consideration busy shipping lanes that would hamper the submarine’s task of remaining invisible while having a perfect understanding of all threats in the water around them, the Navy and Coast Guard could eliminate more area from the search.

Of further consideration to the analysts was the United States’ missile defense system. The Navy knew that the Russians knew that if they could enter to within seventy nautical miles of the U.S. coastline, it would dramatically increase their chances of evading America’s ability to knock their weapons out of the sky.

So the ONI had worked for days, and they had “pinpointed” the possible location of the Knyaz Oleg to something like a million square miles. Twelve miles from shore to seventy miles out, in international waters, for most of the way up and down the East Coast.

Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Roland Hazelton had been frank with his President — he’d said it was his feeling from discussions with Navy and Coast Guard brass that they would only pinpoint the Russian Borei when it launched a Bulava ballistic missile out of the water and the bloom showed up on MASINT — Measurement and Signature Intelligence data.

Hazelton had been so frank in his portrayal of the Knyaz Oleg’s advantages in the present scenario that he’d immediately offered to turn in his resignation. An offer Ryan declined angrily, telling Hazelton he wasn’t getting out of the present crisis so easily. He’d sent the CNO out his door with orders to work harder, twist more arms, motivate his people and lead them.

To find a way out of this mess.

After the waters off the U.S. coastline disappeared before Ryan, he began focusing on the other, not unrelated situation, the reason for his trip. He spent the first couple of hours of the flight in his office, then he had a working dinner with Bob Burgess and Scott Adler in the dining room just aft of the senior staff meeting room.

He’d received some rare and welcome good news during dinner. Burgess had just come from a conference call, and he informed Ryan that French Special Forces had finally retaken the Nigerian oil rig from Boko Haram fighters with no losses to themselves or the hostages.

After dinner Ryan made a quick call to the French president to congratulate him on his good work and to tell him he looked forward to seeing him in Copenhagen. It was true that Ryan was impressed and happy about the French president’s decision to hit the rig, but it was not true, not true at all, that Ryan was looking forward to seeing the president at the emergency meeting the next afternoon. France would be one of the least inclined to send NATO troops to Lithuania, and the French president was a hell of a good debater.

Now Ryan was in the nose of the plane, lying on his bed in the executive suite, just below the cockpit of the massive 747. He told himself he’d shoot for five hours of sleep, which would get him up just prior to landing in Copenhagen.

But he’d settle for four. Hell, he’d be thrilled with four.

He’d be lucky if he got three.

And when he closed his eyes his fears were realized. Sleep would not come. Instead, his brain refused to shut off; it wanted to keep working, to compute, to analyze, to mind-map the Russian problem and plot a solution to it.

As a historian, and then as an analyst with the CIA, Jack Ryan always had a feeling the answers were out there. Information was attainable; he didn’t discount the difficulties encountered by those in the operations end of things who had to go out and attain it, but once they did, people on the analytic side of things had all the more responsibility to divine the correct answers from the data. And the answers were there, passing by in the wind, and he just had to snatch them out as they passed by.

Those days were a long time ago, but he still felt the same way. As President of the United States, he had access to all the information, and that to him meant he had access to all the answers.

The answer to the question of what Volodin was doing now was attainable. He just had to take all the information, data about economics and military firepower and logistics and geography, and his adversary’s impressions of the world around him and even the psychology of the man. This and dozens of other factors needed to be calculated and evaluated, and from this he should be able to conclude what Volodin’s game was.

The answer was attainable, Ryan still believed this, but as he lay there on his bed, he realized the answer remained out of his grasp.

Something Burgess had said tonight was bothering him, though. During dinner the talk had turned to Russia’s actions down in Ukraine over the past month. After nearly a year of stalemate the Russian Army had ticked up the fighting, surprising the Ukrainians and knocking them off-balance, although the Russians had failed to capitalize on this tactical advantage.

Burgess had said, “They are increasing attacks, artillery and rocket fire. Some fronts are seeing forty percent more volume in the past month. But it’s harassing actions only. That’s expensive, Russia is blowing through a lot of ordnance, but for what gain? They aren’t taking territory. They aren’t even amassing troops for any sort of a push.”

Ryan had asked, “You’re sure?”

Burgess replied, “We saw some reserve battalions move into border positions, almost like they were thinking about doing something, but it looks like it was just show for our satellites.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Fuel reserves for the battalions are minimal, they aren’t stockpiling equipment. They just took a few thousand men out of Volgograd, Russia, and moved them west to Duby, Russia. It’s just over the border from Luhansk.”

Ryan had been confused. “But Russia already has Luhansk.”

“Exactly. Why stage combat troops in Russia when you can just move them into Ukraine, closer to the front lines?”

Ryan thought over the conversation with his SecDef now, trying to figure out what that information meant.

His eyes opened quickly. Alone in the dark, he said, “Son of a bitch.”

President Ryan sat in his darkened office in Air Force One with his desk phone to his ear. He looked down at his watch and realized the person he was calling was likely in bed, because it was one a.m. in Washington, D.C.

“Hello?”

“Hold the line for the President of the United States. Mr. President, I have Director Foley.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant.” Getting the communications desk upstairs in the 747 to make his calls for him made him feel a little useless, but the truth was, he couldn’t remember Mary Pat and Ed’s home phone number to save his life. On top of that, Ryan admitted to himself, he didn’t even have a clue how to dial an outside line on Air Force One.

He guessed it was probably 9.

“I’m sorry, Mary Pat. You know I don’t do this often.”

“Is something wrong, Mr. President?”

“No. Well… I don’t know.” He took a second to compose his thoughts. “You know my hunch, right? That Volodin has been behind the spate of attacks on the worldwide energy sector.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And my working theory is that he is doing this to affect energy prices, specifically natural gas and oil, to bolster his economy?”

“Right.”

“Well… if he was planning on invading Lithuania, wouldn’t that have the same effect?”

She thought it over. “That’s a question for Les Birnbaum, I guess, but as DNI I feel pretty confident in fielding it. Yes, tanks crossing into a NATO member state will have more effect on energy prices than everything Volodin’s done to date. That is, assuming he has done the things you suspect. In fact, I can’t imagine anything that would have a greater effect than a Russian war with a NATO power.”

“Exactly. And wouldn’t Volodin know none of this other stuff was important if ultimately he planned to invade?”

Mary Pat said, “Yes, of course he would. So, you don’t think he actually plans on invading?”

“Maybe not. The Borei coming to the East Coast, the troops on the border, the chaos in the energy sector. The uptick of attacks in Ukraine. What if he’s not trying to foment war? What if he’s trying to foment fear? Instability.”

“Interesting theory,” Mary Pat said, but Ryan could tell from her voice she wasn’t on board. “You think he’s bluffing on his attack?”

Ryan had been thinking about this. He said, “He might be. He can’t win a protracted war and he knows it. The only game he can win is a game of chicken. He keeps upping the stakes incrementally, and at some point we’ll either confront him or stand down. He’s putting all his money on us backing down.”

She said, “Escalation dominance.”

Ryan nodded. “Escalation dominance. Yes. He looks like he is the one in control of events, simply by virtue of the fact he is the one making moves. Right or wrong, whether they work out for him or not. It’s been his modus operandi for years.”

Mary Pat said, “I see it in the media when they talk about Volodin as the chess master. Sometimes, unfortunately, I see it in my own staff. They make a list of everything Volodin has done, and they point to it and say it’s proof of his plan, regardless of the fact that nothing he has done has ultimately worked for him.”

Ryan nodded in the dark office. “Five snap decisions in a row looks like a plan if you write them down.” He rubbed his eyes. “Maybe if we can push enough NATO into Lithuania he’ll come up with some other measure to declare victory. I don’t know what, but I do know one thing.”

“What’s that, Mr. President?”

“I know if we don’t get troops into Lithuania, his tanks will roll right over that border in the next week. If that happens, Volodin will be unstoppable. Lithuania will be just the first domino to fall.”