by Dale Brown
“Niyazov finally retired in 2001 and held elections, but there was only one candidate: Kurban Gurizev, the leader of their parliament and deputy chairman of the Democratic Party, what used to be the Communist Party. Like Niyazov, he ruled with absolute authority. He continued to outlaw opposition parties, had to approve all candidates for public office, and created a virtual police state. He is strongly antiforeigner, anti-Muslim, and staunchly pro-Russian.”
“The military must hate Gurizev,” Goff observed.
“The Turkmen military is practically nonexistent,” Morgan said. “Maybe forty thousand troops in all, including paramilitary and reserves; four-fifths conscripts, lots of ex-Soviet equipment in very poor condition. Most of the officer corps is Russian—the officers who wanted to stay simply kept their posts and are being paid by the Turkmen government. Naturally, they have the best equipment.”
“I wonder who they take their orders from once the shit starts hitting the fan?” Busick asked.
“My bet would be with Russia,” Morgan said. “Kurban Gurizev was born and educated in Russia, not Turkmenistan—we think Kurban is not his real first name, but an adopted Turkmen name, part of Niyazov’s nationalist movement. He speaks no Turkmen. He had been known to butt heads with Niyazov on occasion in matters dealing with oil and gas development. Gurizev thought it best to maintain close ties between Russia’s oil infrastructure and Turkmenistan; Niyazov signed agreements with several different developers at the same time. Turkmenistan has deals with several Western companies to transport oil and gas across Afghanistan to Pakistan, with Azerbaijan to transport oil to the Black Sea, with Russia to transport oil to Russia, and even with Iran to transport oil to the Arabian Sea. On the face of it, it’s pretty smart. They get money from several sources and can supply oil to markets around the world regardless of geopolitical concerns. Although there are several development projects ongoing in Turkmenistan, in various states of progress, right now the country exports oil only to Russia, at cut-rate prices.”
“I think it would be a good idea to start monitoring events in Turkmenistan—perhaps put some intelligence assets on the ground,” Kercheval said. “My concern is the ongoing oil projects by Western, primarily American, companies—we don’t want them in the way if the Russians decide to move back in or, worse, if they storm on in, like they tried to do in the Balkans.” He turned to Franklin Sellers, the secretary of the treasury who served also as the secretary of commerce and the U.S. trade representative in the Thorn administration. “Can I get a briefing on the status of any approved projects in Central Asia, Franklin?”
“Sure, Edward.” Sellers, a former vice chairman of Nasdaq, was one of the youngest ever to hold that position; he was also, along with Secretary of Defense Robert Goff, one of the few members of Thorn’s Jeffersonian Party serving in the cabinet. “Just off the top of my head, the current project that I’m most familiar with is TransCal Petroleum’s proposed three-billion-dollar oil and natural-gas line that would pump and ship oil and gas from Turkmenistan through Afghanistan to ports in Pakistan. With the elimination of the Taliban from Afghanistan, their project is back on. They also have a one-billion-dollar project to transport natural gas from Turkmenistan to Uzbekistan for the Central Asian and Indian markets—this one was designed to placate India, who was upset with the idea of the U.S. involved in a project that could make Pakistan rich.” He paused, then added, “From a political aspect, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to back TransCal’s projects either, sir. I think they could be very valuable financial supporters for the upcoming reelection campaign.”
“I’m not concerned about the reelection campaign, Franklin,” Thorn snapped. “My job is to do what’s best for the nation, not for TransCal.”
Sellers nodded and fell quiet, then glanced over at Robert Goff with an unspoken question. Robert Goff nodded that he understood Sellers’s query but indicated that he wanted to wait. “However,” Goff interjected, “I think the United States government has a duty to get involved if a foreign government reneges or interferes with the performance of a contract, or if that government is unable to protect the U.S. company from outside interference or from danger to American citizens working overseas. I think that’s what I’m hearing from State and Intelligence—that the Taliban’s actions and Russia’s possible reaction could threaten U.S. citizens and interests in Turkmenistan.”
“That’s a pretty long stretch, in my estimation,” Thorn said. “Companies like TransCal take a risk by investing in countries like Turkmenistan. I won’t automatically commit troops to action in Turkmenistan simply to protect an American company’s risky overseas investment. If Gurizev cancels the contract or Russian troops move into Turkmenistan on Gurizev’s invitation and shut down work on TransCal’s pipelines, I’m not going to send in the Marines to take it back. Let’s move on. Next I want to hear—”
“Excuse me, Mr. President, but is that going to be your official public position—that the U.S. won’t protect American interests in Turkmenistan or anywhere else in the world?” Secretary of State Kercheval asked incredulously. “With all due respect, sir—what kind of policy is that?”
“It’s a realistic one,” Thorn said. “It’s a responsible one. I’m not going to force any country to sell oil to the United States, and I’m not going to send American fighting men and women to protect a company’s right to make money overseas. If it’s too dangerous to be in the business of drilling and shipping oil in Turkmenistan, then perhaps we shouldn’t be over there doing it.”
“Sir, it’s dangerous only because terrorists or authoritarian governments are interfering,” Kercheval argued. “American companies spend billions of dollars developing business opportunities in countries like Turkmenistan—they expect and deserve a return on their investment, and they expect and deserve some protection from their government. It’s in the Constitution you so love to quote, Mr. President: ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness . . . ‘ “
“That’s in the Declaration of Independence, Mr. Kercheval, not the Constitution,” Thorn corrected him.
“Whatever,” Kercheval said. Thorn blinked in surprise at the “whatever” thrown out so flippantly at him by his secretary of state—to Thorn, confusing the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution was a very big deal—but he did not interrupt. Kercheval knew that arguing the contents of American historical documents with Thomas Nathaniel Thorn was a losing battle. “The point, sir, is that the U.S. government has an obligation to protect its citizens and ensure stability and free enterprise.”
“We have had this discussion many times in the past, Edward,” the president said with a hint of exasperation. This surprised Robert Goff, the man who knew Thomas Thorn the best. Normally, Thorn was the most patient man he had ever known. He could debate any issue in any venue, day or night, and be assured of winning almost every point. Now, in a forum where discussion and consensus were most important, he seemed impatient and unwilling to talk. “As the commander in chief, I am not interested in sending U.S. troops overseas to force any leader or regime to do business with the United States. If Turkmenistan fails to live up to its obligations, TransCal should pull out—”
“ ‘Pull out’? Mr. President, TransCal has invested billions in building those oil and gas lines in Turkmenistan,” Kercheval argued. “They’d lose it all if the government there suddenly decides to renege—”
“Edward, let’s table this discussion for the time being,” the president said. “I’m ordering no action in Turkmenistan for now. If contracts between American companies and the Turkmen government are violated, I’ll have the attorney general’s office expedite handling of lawsuits and trade sanctions. Otherwise we do nothing. I would like position papers on this topic submitted to the vice president as soon as possible. End of discussion.”
“My objections are on the record, sir?” Kercheval asked.
“Yes. Next matter: Chinese intentions in the South China Sea. What do we have on this?”
T
he meeting lasted another hour, with the same pattern: the latest intelligence information, the usual lively, sometimes heated discussions, followed by a general policy statement from the president. Edward Kercheval grew quieter and quieter as the meeting went on.
And the president, vice president, and secretary of defense found out why, moments after everyone else had departed.
“Mr. President, I regret to inform you that I cannot any longer support your administration and your policies, and I intend to submit my resignation to you immediately,” Kercheval said formally, standing almost at attention in front of the president’s desk.
Busick and Goff wore completely stunned expressions. Finally Busick spluttered, “For Christ’s sake, Edward, what in hell do you want to do that for?”
“Edward, there’s no need to resign,” President Thorn said, holding up a hand to silence Busick. “I fully intend to do something to protect our interests in Central Asia—as soon as we reach a consensus about where our interests lie. For now my decision is to do nothing. I expect everyone to contribute to the discussion. Lester will put it all together for me, and I’ll make a decision. But I’m not going to act without careful deliberation.”
“Mr. President, I don’t expect you to act precipitously,” Kercheval said. “But I do expect you to issue some sort of statement declaring your support for American interests in Turkmenistan.”
“The president does support American interests, in Turkmenistan and everywhere in the world,” Robert Goff interjected. “Why issue such a statement just for Turkmenistan?”
“Goff’s right, Ed. There’s nothing going on in Turkmenistan yet,” Vice President Busick emphasized. “You heard Morgan—a few Taliban runnin’ around doesn’t mean all of TransCal’s investments go up in smoke. Relax, for Christ’s sake. Don’t get flustered here.”
Kercheval ignored them all. “Mr. President, I find I simply can’t support your foreign-policy decisions. It’s not just Turkmenistan; it’s your policy regarding our alliances, our treaty commitments, our military, and our overall guardianship of peace in the world. I was happy for the first few years to mouth your words in place of my own. I feel I can no longer do that.”
Thomas Thorn looked at Kercheval for a long moment, then nodded. “I understand, Edward,” he said.
“How do you wish me to depart, sir?”
“Nominate your replacement. Give us time to talk to him, check him out, and let him meet and greet the folks in Congress,” the president said. “Once we have a good solid core group of senators warming up to him, you can depart.”
“Yeah, you can tell the press you have some unexplained brain disorder,” Busick muttered.
“Mr. Busick—”
“It’s all right, Mr. President. I suppose I deserve that,” Kercheval said. He glared at Busick and added, “I expected nothing else.” Busick scowled at him but said nothing. “And I expected nothing less from you, sir. Even under adversity you are a gentleman. I intend to nominate Deputy Secretary of State Maureen Hershel as my replacement, and I will prepare a perfectly plausible and palatable explanation for my departure.” He shook hands with Thorn, nodded to Goff and Busick, and departed.
“Snake,” Busick said under his breath.
“Lester, have Miss Hershel come see me right away.” Busick nodded. He was familiar with her. Maureen Hershel was a career State Department official and an expert on many different facets of running the department, from administration to operations.
“What a damned prick,” Busick exclaimed as he picked up the telephone beside him.
“Those comments will cease immediately,” Thorn ordered. “Keep them to yourself. Edward Kercheval was a valuable and trusted member of this administration and is still a good friend and a great American. He follows his heart and his conscience, as we all do, but that doesn’t diminish his loyalty to his country or his service and dedication to this administration.”
“Mr. President, no one who takes an oath to serve the administration resigns except under extreme personal crisis,” Busick said as he waited to be put through to Hershel’s office. “In other words, he had better be on his deathbed or a convicted ax murderer if he wants to bail before the end of a term. He serves at the pleasure of the president, not at his own personal pleasure. He resigns only to save the administration the embarrassment of kicking him out or prosecuting him. Edward is an experienced Washington player—he knows what he’s doing. This will look bad for him, but it will look very, very bad for us.”
“Hershel is a good choice,” Goff said. “Former FBI, very good credentials, good background, lots of international experience.”
“She’s a babe, I know that,” Busick remarked. Goff nodded agreement, even though he knew that the president would not approve of such locker-room talk. “Well, at least Kercheval did something right. But Jesus—a year before the election, and Kercheval punches out. The only thing that’s going to save our political butts now is if he develops a brain tumor or rectal cancer or something.”
“Lester, let’s move on,” Thorn said. “Edward resigned. We’ve got a good and experienced replacement for him. I’m not concerned about the political fallout right now. Tonight, after the paperwork is cleared up and the phone stops ringing, I’ll start worrying about the politics.”
Robert Goff stayed behind after the vice president departed. He walked with the president to his study, adjacent to the Oval Office. “Mr. President, I think we need to sit down and have a talk with Kercheval,” Goff said. “Invite him to dinner in the residence. Feel him out, find out what he wants.”
“I think I know what he wants, Robert,” Thorn said. “He wants me to act more like a traditional president. He wants me to be engaged in world affairs, not passive. I respect that. But I can’t do it his way. He has every right to quit.”
“No, he doesn’t have a right to quit,” Goff insisted. “The vice president said it: Accepting a cabinet post is a position of trust and responsibility, not only to you but to the government. There are times and ways to leave the post—in case of illness or between terms. Resigning just because you disagree with a particular policy is not right.”
“I’m sorry he resigned, and I know it’ll be hard on us, especially with an election coming up,” Thorn said, “but it can’t be helped. Let’s get his replacement up to speed as soon as possible, and I’d like to speak with the leadership so we can get through the confirmation hearings quickly.”
“They’ll be waiting for you, that’s for sure,” Goff said. “Thomas, let me make a suggestion—”
“All right, Robert, I’ll call Edward and find out if he wants to meet and talk,” the president said resignedly. “But I don’t think it’ll do any good.”
“I was going to suggest something else,” Goff said. “Morgan seems pretty sure of something stirring over in Central Asia. I know you said you don’t feel that events in Turkmenistan warrant sending American troops. . . .”
“That’s right. I don’t.” The president looked at Goff. “But you’re not talking about troops—you’re talking about something else. Robot planes, perhaps?”
It was scary, Robert Goff thought, to consider how intelligent Thomas Thorn was. A guy with a mind and a body as sharp as his would make a very, very dangerous adversary. “We’ve scheduled a campaign swing out west anyway for next week—that Lake Tahoe environmental forum speech, followed by appearances in Reno, San Francisco, Monterey, Santa Barbara, Las Vegas, and L.A. I suggest we make a stop prior to arriving in Reno.”
“Battle Mountain?”
Goff nodded. “General McLanahan did a great job standing up that unit so fast,” he said. “His first mission over Afghanistan was a success, despite what Morgan suggested. I authorized a mission to recover the drone shot down out there, and I predict that’ll be a success, too.”
“I agree, and I’m proud of McLanahan. He’s suffered a tremendous loss recently, he’s suddenly become a single parent, yet he’s worked hard and done well,” the presiden
t said.
“I know we’ve already got the travel schedule built,” Goff said, “but McLanahan might be able to give you some options in case we do need to conduct operations over there.”
“I don’t foresee conducting any military operations in any of the ‘Stans, Robert,” the president said. “But . . . you are considering McLanahan’s facility as an alternate national command center, correct? Battle Mountain is the underground air base, right?”
“It certainly is,” Goff replied, smiling. “And it does have a very sophisticated communications system—extensive satellite earth stations, microwave, extremely low frequency—for communications with their robot aircraft. It’s also far from any other major target complexes or population centers, and it has a twelve-thousand-foot-long runway—the facilities to handle the Airborne National Command Post as well as Air Force One. It would make an ideal alternate command center.”
“Then get together with Lester and build in a visit,” the president said. “I imagine you’ll get a briefing from him beforehand on his Afghanistan operation and his take on the situation in Central Asia. If you think I’ll need to hear his report, build that into the schedule, too.”
“Yes, sir,” Goff replied. He paused and then looked carefully at his friend. “You don’t need an excuse to go talk to your troops, Thomas.”
“I know.”
“You also don’t have to come up with excuses to visit a military base just so you don’t appear as if you’re placating Edward Kercheval.”
“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?”
“I think you’re more disappointed than you let on about losing him,” Goff observed. “It’s important to you to give your cabinet a lot of responsibility, but it’s also important to show you’re in charge.”