The Sniper and the Wolf

58

The president of the United States glanced away from the screen to see General Couture lighting up a Pall Mall cigarette with a First Air Cavalry Zippo lighter. They had all seen the melee, and no one in the room could believe that Gil and Dragunov were still alive.

“Is smoking allowed in here, General?”

Couture shook his head. “But you’re the only man in the room who outranks me, sir. Would you like me to put it out? It’s Shannon’s fault. He does this to me every time.”

The president had recently given up smoking a pipe at his wife’s insistence. “May I have one?”

“Certainly.” Couture reached into the arm pocket of his starched, digitally camouflaged ACUs and gave him the red pack of cigarettes.

The president took one and tossed the pack onto the table. “Help yourselves, gentlemen.”

Brooks was the first to reach for the pack, and the president smiled as Couture leaned forward to light his cigarette for him. “I’ll make sure to buy you another pack, General.”

Couture shook his head. “Won’t be necessary, sir.”

The room filled slowly with a smoky gray haze as they sat watching Gil and Dragunov make their way through the forest. On the other screen, a force of more than fifty men were chasing after them from the west, easily moving twice as fast.

An aide-de-camp stepped into the room and whispered into Couture’s ear.

“Mr. President, Bob Pope on line four, sir.”

The president picked up the phone and pressed the button. “This is the president… Yes, I saw it. We all did… You’re kidding me! You mean they have to fight their way back to Moscow on their own? Hold on a second, Robert.” The president turned to Couture. “The Russians have fallen out of contact with our men on the ground. Apparently there’s no help coming.”

Couture snapped his fingers at the air force liaison. “Find our nearest Predator and get it flying in that direction!”

“We can’t do that,” the president said. “They’re in Russia.”

“Barely, Mr. President.”

“Russia is Russia, General.”

“Can Pope get us permission?”

“Robert, can you get us permission for a Predator strike?” The president looked at Couture and then shook his head. “He says he already tried that, and they won’t even consider it. Moscow says this is a Russian operation and that Shannon volunteered to operate under Russian command.”

Couture sucked from the cigarette in frustration. “How about asking them to send in one of those flying washing machines of theirs?”

The president conferred with Pope. “He says not before first light, and even then he’s not sure. The Russians say Umarov has acquired MANPADS. I assume you know what those are. I don’t.”

“It’s a shoulder-fired antiaircraft missile, sir. Does Pope have anything in mind at all?”

“He says not at this time.”

“Where the hell is the Russian air force?” asked the air force chief of staff.

“Pope says that’s a very good question, General.”

“Unbelievable,” the air force general muttered. “The mission’s a failure, so they’re just going to let them die?”

“Pope says it’s beginning to look that way,” the president said. “Is there anything else you can tell us, Robert?” The president listened and then replied, “Call me the second you learn anything new.” He hung up the phone and looked at the men sitting around the table. “Unless one of you has a suggestion that doesn’t involve starting World War III, I think President Putin is about to have his revenge for Operation Bunny Ranch.”

None of the generals had any ideas, but the president spotted a young air force lieutenant sitting back in the corner in front of a computer with his hand partially raised.

“What is it, son?”

“Well, sir,” the lieutenant said. “What about calling Tbilisi for help? The Georgian army has helos on the ground right across the border. If they fly low between the mountains, Russian radar will never even pick them up. And they might not mind invading Russian airspace for twenty minutes or so, given that Russia still occupies Georgian territory in South Ossetia.”

The president looked at Couture. “What do you think?”

Couture shrugged. “It can’t hurt to ask, sir.”

The president grabbed the phone and pressed zero. “This is the president. Get Secretary of State Sapp on the phone immediately. And call the Georgian Embassy. We’re going to need to speak with the Georgian ambassador.”