Patriot

CHAPTER 55

Hawke is absolutely certain the Russians are behind this attack in Miami,” Sir David said. “And in retaliation, it is Hawke’s intention to mount a joint strategic assault force and destroy the rebuilt Soviet espionage facility in retaliation. Director Kelly and I are prepared to view this sabotage on American soil as an act of war. And respond accordingly.”

The president said, “For Christ’s sake, Sir David, you’re talking about World War III here. I’d be very careful with your choice of words in this office, Sir David. You’re going down a road you may not want to go down.”

“Let me rephrase that. Certainly, I would posit that we stand on the brink of war, sir. Commander Hawke’s idea is that his action in Cuba will send a very strongly worded message to the Kremlin to back the hell off. If we don’t respond at all, it’s my personal belief that we most certainly will be sliding into global confrontation with President Putin.”

“Assuming your assessment is correct, and that’s a big assumption, what’s the next step in your view?”

“Great question, sir. Let me help you out there,” Admiral Moore said. And he proceeded to lay out the rationale they’d all agreed upon.

The president paid attention, nodding in the affirmative at the conclusion.

The men who were present that morning breathed a collective sigh of relief. The most powerful man in the world seemed to have at last begun to grasp the enormity of the forces arrayed against him around the planet. And the challenges the Western world would soon have to grapple with if it was to survive.

Sir David was quick to respond to Rosow’s question of what must be done. “Twenty minutes ago I was on with the prime minister at Number Ten Downing. I informed him about the Florida situation, just as I’ve informed you. I asked his approval for an immediate British-American assault force to be mounted, a joint operation between CIA and MI6, under the command of Alex Hawke, an active officer in the Royal Navy.”

“And?”

“The PM gave his swift approval to proceed, Mr. President. As did Secretary Matthews and Director Kelly. All we need now is your agreement to do the same, sir. And Director Kelly and I will take all appropriate actions in coordination with CIA and the Pentagon to bring the perpetrators of this outrage to swift justice.”

They waited for a response. And waited some more.

“Approved, Sir David,” Rosow finally said, getting to his feet. A bit of color seemed to have returned to his cheeks, and he had mustered a somewhat more confident demeanor.

“I have worked with Commander Hawke before, as you all know. Tell him my prayers go with him… So. I see I’m running out of time. Will that be all, gentlemen?”

They all stood up at once, some relief much evident on their faces.

“Thank you very much, Mr. President,” Secretary of State Will Matthews said, speaking for the group. “We deeply appreciate your not only listening to us this morning, but hearing us as well.”

They all began to file out.

Admiral Moore was lingering as the others headed for the door, filing past Murph.

“Got a minute, sir?” Moore said.

“Of course, Charlie.”

“I do have one more thing to say, Mr. President, on a personal note. I had a guy in my office at the Pentagon early this morning. Navy fighter pilot, a major, 301st Fighter Wing at NAS Fort Worth. Big-time hero. He wanted to see me because something bad had happened to him and he didn’t know who else to tell. This guy’s on Facebook, see, and two days ago, ISIS posted his face. And the face of his nine-year-old son, Lucas. And the kid’s dog. They wanted people to know where this guy and his family lived. Then they wanted them to show up at his house and slaughter them. The whole fuckin’ family. Now, Mr. President, I am deadly serious about this. If you need a bigger wake-up call than that? Hell, I think it’s high time I tendered my resignation as the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. That’s all I’ve got to say. Sir.”

He started to walk out, but the president stopped him.

“Believe me, Charlie, I hear you. I count on all you guys to tell me the truth. If we hang together, I believe we have a very good chance of not only getting through this difficult time, but coming out the other side on the side of the angels.”

“I hope to God you’re right, Mr. President, I sincerely do. Because if you’re not, the only option left on the table is a great white nuclear flash of freedom out there in the Iraqi and Syrian desert. Turn those goddamned ISIS safe havens into charbroiled landfill.”

Moore turned away and headed for the door.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that, Charlie,” Rosow called after him. Moore stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face the president.

“You do? Really? Why?”

“Humanitarian reasons, that’s why. I got elected for my convictions in that regard.”

“A few minutes ago you told us a story about your father. How he didn’t like problems. Well, I’ll tell you a story about my father. Rear admiral in the Second World War, a submariner. They called him ‘Boomer.’ Know what old Boomer told me? He said, ‘Son, when you take an oath to defend, you also make a promise to yourself… No retreat. No surrender.’ You might want to try listening to my old daddy for a change. He was pretty smart too.”

Standing out of the rain at the South Portico, waiting for their respective cars and drivers, the four men were speaking in lowered voices.

“Well, that was fun,” Admiral Moore said.

“You’re going down a road you may not want to go down? Is that what he said to Sir David? Put his ass on the next thing smoking? Are you kidding me?” Brick Kelly said. “Funny, I thought we were all on the same side, just doing our goddamn jobs.”

“On the side of the angels, as it were,” Sir David Trulove added with a wry smile. He was still in a state of shock at the way he’d been treated by an American president.

Secretary Matthews said, “At any rate, if we all get fired, at least we finally got his attention. Maybe.”

“He can’t very well fire me,” Sir David said, raising his pale blue eyes to the troubled heavens.

“Good thing, too,” Moore said. “If he fails to act on this Cuban crisis thing, Sir David? You and that magnificent bastard Hawke, you sail Royal Navy destroyers right up into that Cubano harbor all by your lonesomes and you kick yourselves some serious Commie ass.”

“Rather colorful, Charlie, but I admire the sentiment.”

The Four, as they’d nicknamed themselves, fell silent then, watching their black cars moving slowly up the drive in the punishing rain; each man wondering if he’d ever be standing on this exact spot again. At that moment, every member of the Four considered that prospect to be highly unlikely.

But, at least, they thought, individually and collectively, they had done their duty by their country.