Man on Ice: Russia vs the USA - in Alaska

TWENTY-THREE

In the Oval Office, Stephanie listened to the playback of Holland’s call. He had shown both stupidity and impatience in demanding so quickly that China openly support the United States. He had irreparably weakened himself in the eyes of China. It was interesting that, unlike with Holland’s call to the Kremlin, she could hear both sides of the conversation. The Chinese would have known that the National Security Agency would be intercepting, and it meant they had not encrypted at their end because they wanted Swain to hear their response. She was with Prusak and Swain. Others were on their way.

‘What do you want to do, sir?’ asked Prusak.

‘Nothing openly.’ Swain sounded bullish and confident. ‘We handle it as they did during the Trump transition. We follow every move Holland makes. We intercept every call. Every time he takes a piss, we know it.’

‘They’ll react,’ said Stephanie. ‘China always tests a new President. The question is — with what? In 2001 with Bush, it was the collision of the spy plane; in 2009 with Obama, the harassment of the surveillance ship; in 2016 the taking of the submersible drone. Each was a challenge to your presence in Asia. My instinct is they’ll now ramp it up — currency, trade, military — and they’ll tie it in with the Russia crisis.’

Swain looked up as three key principals came in, Michael Pacolli from Defense, Thomas Grant from Treasury, and Peter Andrews from State. ‘Is Opokin still in the embassy?’ he asked Prusak.

‘Yes,’ answered Andrews. ‘He’s refusing to speak to the FBI. If he steps outside, we will arrest him.’

Swain moved from his desk to the two yellow pastel sofas facing each other in the middle of the room. He indicated that everyone should share the sandwiches, dips, juice, and coffee laid out on the low table in the middle. Stephanie picked up a plate of sandwiches and held it for Swain, then offered it to Prusak and ended up circling the sofas like a waitress as everyone took one. It was just past three in the afternoon; she remembered having black coffee and an energy bar hours ago and, like her, a few in the room might have napped, but none had properly slept.

‘I am not going to confront Holland directly,’ said Swain. ‘But let his people know that if he speaks to another foreign government without my permission I will use the Logan Act.’

Stephanie’s face creased with curiosity. ‘Is that the ban on private citizens negotiating with a foreign government?’ she asked.

‘Correct,’ said Swain. ‘It dates back to 1799, after Senator George Logan thought he could negotiate with France on behalf of the government.’

‘But is Holland a private citizen?’

‘He is. Only the President or those authorized by him is allowed to negotiate.’

‘It’s never had a conviction,’ said Prusak. ‘Remember in 2015, forty-seven Republican Senators told Iran they would scrap the nuclear deal. Obama got a three hundred thousand-signature petition asking him to prosecute them under the Logan Act.’

‘But when Reagan was President-elect in 1980 didn’t he call the Iranians kidnappers and barbarians over the embassy siege?’ said Stephanie.

‘He liaised with Jimmy Carter first, playing soft cop hard cop,’ said Swain. ‘Holland is not liaising with me. He needs to know he risks indictment so check with the Attorney General how we could get a conviction.’

Prusak looked alarmed. ‘Sir, to begin indictment proceedings against the President-elect on the eve of transition—’

‘The United States cannot afford the presidency to be undermined during a crisis. I want to see a piece of paper that tells me how we would stop him.’

Stephanie’s phone vibrated. Messages and calls had been coming so fast that she had been tempted to turn off the alerts. She expected yet another angry message from the Foreign Office in London, which resented that she was working so closely with the White House and out of their control. But it wasn’t. It was an unknown number from Russia. The message almost certainly came from Ozenna. She put the phone on the table for everyone to see. Island top clear.

‘Can we confirm?’ said Swain.

Prusak read from his tablet. ‘The NSA has an ID on the phone,’ he said. ‘It is on a Russian pay-as-you-go system, SIM card registered in Khabarovsk, headquarters of the Far Eastern Military Command. That’s also home base for its special forces Arctic units.’

‘They could be playing us,’ said Swain. ‘What eyes do we have over there?’

‘A Reaper drone now and a satellite within the next twenty-seven minutes,’ said Pacolli. ‘With the fog coming and going every few minutes, the satellite may get nothing. The drone is circling. Images are coming through via Creech Air Force Base in Nevada.’

Prusak switched the feed to the main television screen. The room fell quiet. The image juddered, indicating high wind turbulence above Little Diomede.

‘My God!’ exclaimed Stephanie. She saw five blood-soaked corpses on a barren snow-covered landscape. They had the most horrendous wounds. On two at least the heads were partly blown away. The brutality gripped the room. The camera moved to a sixth body in a similar location, with frozen blood around the mouth and nose, then pulled away into a wider shot showing machine guns and other equipment, but no human life.

Horror surged through Stephanie followed by excitement at what Ozenna had achieved. Then she felt a flash of worry about the type of man Carrie had chosen to be with. She too had married a man like this. They didn’t make good husbands.

‘Yes,’ said Pacolli after moments of silence. ‘It looks like Captain Ozenna has given us a window. With the observation post down, the Eskimo from Goose Creek Correctional Center, Don Ondola, can guide the men across the ice.’

‘Do it,’ said Swain.

Pacolli repeated the orders into his phone. Secretary of State Andrews took a call and immediately held up his hand to indicate its importance. ‘Sir, the Kremlin has contacted our embassy in Moscow. They will take Dr Carrie Walker across to Big Diomede to collect the young mother, her baby, and her guardians. They want our guarantee of safe passage.’

‘Why does Dr Walker have to go?’ asked Swain.

‘The Russian doctor doesn’t want to go to our island. Dr Walker will take over the patient’s care at the base and accompany her back to Little Diomede.’

‘This can’t mean they’re backing down,’ said Prusak.

Far from it, thought Stephanie. She half tuned out of the conversation. To think straight, she needed to get away from the claustrophobic chatter of the Oval Office. Clever people worked in the Kremlin, which meant the White House needed to be cleverer. America had trained a generation of analysts who knew every feuding group in the Middle East and North Africa, but little about the mindset of the Kremlin and even less of Beijing. During the Trump transition, the Chinese stole an American underwater surveillance drone. A few days later they returned it, making things look as if Beijing had backed down. But it hadn’t. That was merely a marker for what was to come. Stephanie sensed that with Little Diomede, Russia was doing the same. ‘With Carrie at the base, they’ll have high-category hostages on both islands,’ she said. ‘So, my guess is that they’re only getting started.’ She stood up, phone in her palm. ‘Matt, you have this in the system?’

‘Every sound you make, Steph.’

‘If it’s OK with you, Mr President, I’ll head back to the embassy and coordinate the Prime Minister’s speech from there.’

‘When is it?’ said Swain.

‘The next shift change.’ Prusak scrolled his tablet. ‘I’ll get you a car.’

‘It’s OK, Matt. I’ll cab it.’

A Secret Service agent took Stephanie out through the visitors’ entrance where she tagged onto the end of the last tour group leaving the building. Fine drizzle laced with cold air fell on her face. Just what she needed. She walked quickly along Pennsylvania Avenue, then turned north up 20th Street. She put her thoughts in order until she was absolutely certain. If the first conversation didn’t work, she doubted the viability of her plan. She brought out a phone, her US one this time, checked her watch for the time difference with Almaty, Kazakhstan, and speed-dialed her ex-husband.

‘Harry, it’s me,’ she said. ‘I need your help.’