The Sniper and the Wolf

43

The door to the Oval Office opened, and Secretary of State John Sapp entered the room.

The president stood up from behind his desk. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, John.”

“I came as quickly as I could, Mr. President.” Sapp crossed the office and shook hands with the commander in chief, turning to shake hands with Couture and Brooks before sitting down.

“Gentlemen,” the president said, “I’ve asked John to weigh in on the stalemate between the two of you. He probably has a better understanding of the Russian mind than any of us.”

The sixty-year-old secretary of state had spent ten years as the US ambassador to the Soviet Union during the Cold War. He was a tall, slender man with gray hair and discerning gray eyes.

“Glen,” the president said to the White House chief of staff, “give John your thoughts on grounding the plane in Istanbul.”

Brooks sat forward in the chair and explained to Sapp why he thought Gil Shannon should be prevented from flying what he referred to as “a planeload of prostitutes” into Moscow.

Sapp listened thoughtfully, nodding after Brooks had finished. “It’s absolutely a possibility that Putin will take offense at this. He doesn’t trust us. He doesn’t trust anyone with altruistic motives. But, then again, sociopaths aren’t capable of altruistic emotion. He sees everyone as the enemy, even those within his own government. He’s much like Stalin in that regard.”

Brooks, feeling vindicated, sat back in his chair. “That’s my exact point.”

“But I don’t recommend grounding the flight,” Sapp went on to say, “and I’ll tell you why.”

Brooks stiffened.

Sapp crossed his legs, calmly resting his hand on his knee. “Consider this emergence in the broader scope: Russia knows they’re indirectly responsible for last year’s nuclear attacks on American soil. It’s a significant embarrassment for them, and they’ve been trying to wriggle out of it, but they’re going to have to acknowledge their culpability very soon now, and they know it. China’s finally ready to confirm the isotope test results, and that’s going leave Russia as the odd man out on the UN Security Council. Everyone — the Russians included — are going to have to face up to the fact that the uranium was enriched at the Ural facility.

“And make no mistake: Putin is as aware of the paradigm shift as we are. It’s not Russia versus the United States anymore. It’s Russia and the US versus Islamic extremism. Imagine the results of a man like Dokka Umarov getting his hands on a stolen nuke. He’d incinerate Moscow. Putin’s willingness to work with us on this pipeline plot has nothing to do with protecting the pipeline. He’s afraid of Umarov and his network, and anything he can do to weaken Umarov is good policy. What Russia is attempting to do, however, is manipulate us into helping them on their terms. They want to be in a position to dictate policy well into the future.

“What Master Chief Shannon has inadvertently given us here is an opportunity to level the playing field; a chance for us to do the manipulating. My recommendation is to let the plane take off. I can talk with Prime Minister Medvedev over the phone once it’s in the air. He and I have a rapport, and contrary to popular belief, Putin does listen to him — more than anyone has any real idea. I can suggest that Russia use this little rescue as an opportunity to improve their public image in the wake of their failure with the suitcase nukes. Taking a public stand against human trafficking will play well for them, and if they’re worried about creating unnecessary friction with the Russian mafia, they can always say these unfortunate young women were being held by Islamic terrorists. Who’s going to be the wiser, except for the victims?”

“What about the Turks?” Brooks interjected. “They’re holding Shannon and the others for us at the airport, and they’re not at all happy about this ‘little rescue.’ ”

Sapp shrugged. “The Turks have to play this however we ask them to.”

“Oh?” Brooks smiled. “And why is that?”

“Because of the earthquake last month,” Sapp replied easily. “We’ve pledged more than a billion dollars in relief — only half of which has been paid so far — and that doesn’t include our recent increase in military aid. So the Turks are not going to be a problem. The only problem is Putin, and I’m confident I can get Medvedev to make him see the opportunity in this.”

The president looked at Couture. “How soon do we have to make a decision?”

“Next flight leaves in ninety minutes.”

“John, do you see any possible downside?”

“Nothing long lasting,” Sapp answered. “The only real risk is to Master Chief Shannon. Once he arrives in Moscow on a Russian passport, he could become a pawn, but I don’t think they’ll hurt him. They may hold on to him for a while, long enough to make their point, but Major Dragunov was well treated aboard the Ohio, so I think they’ll return the courtesy. As I’ve said already, they’re going to need us in the future, and they’re smart enough to see this opportunity for what it is — provided it’s put to them in the correct tone. Tone is always very important with the Russians, especially with Stalinists like Putin.”

“General,” the president said, “make sure Shannon and his people are aboard that plane when it takes off.”

“Yes, sir.” Couture got up from his chair and left the room.

The president’s phone chimed on the desk, announcing an incoming text message. He picked up the phone expecting to see a text from his wife, but to his surprise, the message was from Tim Hagen. “What the hell could this possibly be about?” he muttered, warily opening the message to see a frozen video image himself and a young Asian woman. The shock effect was instantaneous. His heart began to race, and he began to sweat immediately.

Brooks exchanged glances with Sapp, both of them seeing the color drain from the president’s face. “Sir, are you okay?”

“Get my car ready, Glen. I’m going over to talk with Pope.”

“At this hour, sir?”

The president stood up from his chair. “I asked you to get the car ready, Glen. Get it ready now.”