Situation Room

by J. A. Armstrong

  “Don’t you ever tell them.”

  ***

  COTROCENI PALACE, BUCHAREST, ROMANIA

  Candace accepted a kiss on the cheek from Jameson and followed President Barbu to an ornate room in the palace. She imagined its capacity had to surpass three-hundred. She was surprised when he directed her to walk through a narrow corridor that resided along the left-hand wall. No more than four feet ahead, they reached another door. President Barbu led Candace through.

  “This is a well-kept secret,” he told her. “A place to escape at a moment’s notice. Please,” he said, directing her to have a seat in a leather chair. “Țuică?” he asked.

  “If you’re offering,” Candace replied with a grin.

  “I don’t think your wife cared for this much,” he said with a chuckle.

  Candace laughed along with him. She enjoyed the plum liquor and had found the president’s explanation for drinking before a meal entertaining. Candace was acquainted with the tradition of consuming the beverage before a meal to increase appetite. It was Barbu’s dramatic flair that both surprised and amused her. “Jameson is not much of a drinker,” Candace supplied. “Beyond a beer now and again.”

  “Ah, beer has taken over the world,” he said.

  Candace shook her head. “For some people.”

  He laughed easily. “For us—something a little stronger.” He handed Candace a glass and claimed a seat across from her. “You have questions,” he said. “Better discussed here.”

  “I am curious,” she admitted.

  “Ask.”

  “Your relationship with President Kapralov—”

  “Complicated,” he replied.

  “But open.”

  Barbu tipped his head and took a drink. “It’s unwise to close the channel.”

  “Even if it damages your credibility with your partners in the Union?”

  “You’ve been listening to Theresa.”

  “I listen to everyone,” Candace corrected him.

  He nodded. “I would prefer that we close that channel. The SVR has authority at our border,” he explained. “A hard line, as you might call it, is not in anyone’s best interest. Not in yours either.”

  “How so?”

  “Tension is high here, Candace. Unusually high. Poland is nervous. It’s led to more corruption. The Union threw away Ukraine. They can speak any line that they choose. Ukraine had few options. Everyone wants that territory accessible. As much as our friends fear aggression, they are impotent to act to suppress Russian influence. The same is true in Belarus. It is not the will of the people, but those in control of the government. You do not banish an old oligarchy with new names,” he explained.

  “Kapralov considers you a friend?”

  “Not a friend. Not an enemy either.”

  “Switzerland?” she joked.

  “As neutral as we can afford to be. Romania has no desire to aid the Russian Federation—not this government. There are entities that remain loyal.”

  “The old oligarchy?”

  “The same oligarchy,” he said.

  “It exists throughout Eastern Europe, just as you have yours in the west.”

  Candace made no reply. There was truth to his statement. She decided to wade further. “Kaliningrad.”

  “A holdout from the Soviet Union.”

  “Strange that such a small strip of land would remain in Russian control.”

  “Is it?” He laughed. “It’s a gateway, but you know that. Like the Black Sea—no? One leads to Scandinavia the other to Turkey and the Middle East. The same reasons Germany once coveted these places. Resources. Access.”

  “The frontlines are not the same.”

  Barbu laughed again. “And they are not so different. You want to know if Romania can be trusted—if I can be trusted to stay in-line with America’s interests. I have no allegiance to Mr. Kapralov. My allegiance is to Romania. That will not change. The Romanian people chose Europe, Candace. For me, that is all that needs to be said.”

  Candace nodded.

  “And what of you?” he asked her. “What are your interests here in this part of the world?”

  “Stability,” Candace replied. “For us all.”

  ***

  THE NEXT DAY

  Jameson wondered when her fascination with a home in the sky would dwindle. She wasn’t at all sure she’d ever stop marveling at Air Force One. It was a miniature city hovering at 35,000 ft. She could lie down in bed, stretch out on a sofa, recline in a chair, meander to the kitchen—and still she chose to sit in a seat and look out the window.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Candace asked.

  “Hey. I thought you were on a call.”

  “I thought you’d be napping.”

  “I like it here.”

  “You know there are more comfortable seats that have windows.”

  Jameson shrugged. This area resembled a corporate jet. It was the place reserved for guests of the president. There were no dignitaries on this trip. Dana occasionally took up residence here, but she had flown home two days earlier. Jameson enjoyed the quiet. “It feels the closest to normal,” she explained.

  Candace took a seat beside her wife. “It is strange up here.”

  “Ready to go home?” Jameson said.

  “We can’t land soon enough,” Candace said.

  “Four more hours.”

  Candace let her head fall onto Jameson’s shoulder.

  “Don’t you have people waiting for you?” Jameson asked.

  “I always have people waiting for me.”

  “True.”

  “It’s good for them to practice.”

  “Practice?” Jameson inquired.

  “Waiting.”

  A soft chuckle passed Jameson’s lips. “Pulling rank, huh?”

  “I am the boss, you know.”

  “No doubt about that,” Jameson said. “None at all.”

  ***

  Joshua Tate’s jaw grew tauter by the second as he listened to Admiral George Rollins recap an intelligence report. The last thing he expected or wanted to deal with on Candace’s return home was a possible military operation in a country she’d just visited. Any move by the United States on foreign soil was risky. The proposal laid before him by Admiral Rollins, if successful, would appear to be the work of a Ukrainian opposition group. He didn’t need to speak with Candace to know that she would be reluctant to agree to the mission. “How certain are you that this is a threat?”

  “An immediate threat? Impossible to say.”

  “Do you even know what they are hiding away in that building?” Tate asked.

  “We know there are weapons slated for Kaliningrad.”

  “What about Kaliningrad?”

  “Always a place to keep our eye on.”

  “Why the build-up—why now?” Tate mused. “You want to move on this supposed factory in Ukraine—why?”

  “Joshua, the factory in Ukraine isn’t the source. It’s over the border in Romania.”

  Tate bristled.

  “When Carecom bought out MyoGen years ago, others moved to take up that research. Biocon is one of those companies.”

  “Biocon is Europe’s commercial DNA provider.”

  Rollins nodded. “One of them. But their efforts go far beyond sending out DNA kits to Europeans.”

  “I’m aware. What you haven’t told me is how this information factors into this idea you’ve presented that destroying a factory in Ukraine is a solution. First, you tell me weapons, now we’re talking Biocon.”

  “Whatever they’re doing across the border in Romania, it’s moving to Ukraine and upward.”

  “To Russia.”

  “Specifically, to Kaliningrad.”

  “But you don’t know what it is,” Tate reminded him.

  “It’s biological. That’s what we believe.”

  “Belief isn’t going to get the president to sign off on this plan.”

  “Strong belief. The intelligence is good, Joshu
a. Whatever it is, we need to interrupt it—give us some time to dig deeper.”

  Tate sighed. “Make sure you have every shred of information available. I mean every shred, George. Don’t underestimate Candace Reid.”

  Admiral Rollins smiled. “You respect the president.”

  “I do, perhaps more than any person I’ve served. She may not have a military background. She does see through the cracks.”

  “That’s not always an advantage, Joshua,” Rollins replied.

  Tate nodded. “Just be certain you don’t leave anything out.” Tate needed a few moments to gather his thoughts. “Twenty minutes until she arrives. Spectacular.”

  ***

  Candace’s smile faded in an instant. She looked at Jameson apologetically and held up a finger to her staff.

  “Bad news?” Jameson guessed.

  “Well, whatever it is, it’s not good news,” Candace said. “I have to go downstairs.”

  “That kind of situation, huh?”

  “Jameson, I—”

  “Say no more. I’ll call Marianne and tell her we’re delayed indefinitely.”

  “No. You need to go home. Don’t wait for me.”

  “Candace—”

  “Please,” Candace requested. “Hopefully, I will be able to resolve this quickly.”

  “I don’t love the idea of leaving you when you have a crisis to deal with.”

  Candace offered Jameson a genuine smile. “It will help me to know you went home to Cooper. It will be one burden off my mind.”

  Jameson understood but remained reluctant to leave. “You know that I—”

  “I know that you will be anywhere I need you to be, and that all I need to do is ask. I’m asking you; please, Jameson, go home. See the kids. Spend time with Cooper. You have my word that I will do everything in my power to get there as soon as I can.”

  “What about you?” Jameson asked. “You don’t have to face these things alone. I might not be able to be by your side but—”

  “You’re always by my side,” Candace said assuredly. “I’ll call you as soon as I can. I promise.” She leaned in and kissed Jameson tenderly.

  “If you need us to come back—”

  “I know. I won’t. I’ll see you soon.” Candace stroked Jameson’s cheek. “Try to behave yourself.”

  Jameson laughed. She huffed when Candace walked away.

  “Are you okay?” Dana asked.

  “As okay as anyone can be in this world,” Jameson said without taking her eyes off Candace.

  “She can handle it, JD—whatever she’s walking into; she can handle it.”

  Jameson smiled and turned to her friend. “I know. I just wish she didn’t have to.”

  ***

  Candace listened attentively to the information, opinions, and recommendations of The Chiefs of Staff, Joshua Tate, Jennifer Gorham, and Gil Rodgers. She methodically cataloged the facts as they were explained to her. She looked over at Vice President Nate Ellison and received the raise of his brow. Biocon was engaged in some type of relationship with the Russian Federation. That made sense to Candace. Biocon’s headquarters was in Bucharest. It’s main facility, however, stood only thirty miles from the Ukrainian border. Gil Rodgers finished outlying his concerns and his support for a limited action. Candace waited a moment and addressed the room. “All right,” she began. “Let me see if I have this right. You know that Biocon is moving something from their facility to Ukraine and then onward to Kaliningrad.” Rodgers started to speak, and Candace held up her hand to stop him. “But you don’t know what that something is, and you don’t have any idea if it is, in fact nefarious. On this information, you want me to authorize you to destroy the Ukrainian factory.”

  “Yes,” Rodgers replied. “We will make it look as if it was a target of the Free-Ukrainian Society.”

  Candace shook her head. “Why would we do that?”

  “To avoid any link to you.”

  “To me? This isn’t my idea,” she reminded the room. She sighed. “The Free-Ukrainian Society is not an adversary to America,” she said. “So, the answer to your suggestion is a flat and unequivocal, no.”

  “Madame President, we cannot be seen as culpable.”

  “We are culpable,” Candace said. “If you want to take actions, you should be prepared to accept responsibility for those actions.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Tate said.

  Candace nodded. “No, I know that. When you bring something like this to me, don’t ever mistake who is culpable. You can spin things and create narratives all you like. Someone will know we are responsible. In fact, overseas most will suspect we are responsible. Don’t ever allow yourselves to believe that any story you concoct is an impenetrable shield. It is not.” She took a deep breath, laid down the pen in her hands and scanned the faces in the room. “Biocon, as I understand, has most of its energy and assets invested in smart-technology—typing DNA and biometric accessory development.”

  “They also provide the primary lab for DNA classification in Europe,” Jennifer Gorham offered.

  “I’m aware, but that facility adjoins their main office in Bucharest. What evidence do you have that any biological agents exist elsewhere?” Candace wanted to know.

  “It’s not as simple to gauge any longer,” General Paul Derringer offered.

  “And that is why you advise caution,” Candace surmised.

  “This proposal would buy us some time. The problem—if it is a problem, exists in Romania,” Derringer said. “Romania is our ally.”

  “I understand why you’ve proposed this idea,” Candace said. “You have all given me very little that’s tangible. You have no idea what is being transported. You’ve told me that you’ve tracked vans moving over the border. They could be delivering microchips or paper goods for all you know.”

  “It’s not office supplies,” General Melvin chimed.

  Candace shot him a stern gaze. “I’m sure it isn’t. My point is that you don’t have anything specific to offer me. What do you believe they are transporting? Specifically?”

  “My best guess,” Admiral Rollins began.

  “I need more than a guess, Admiral.”

  “I wish I had better to give,” he said.

  Candace scratched her brow. “Do they know? These people working in this building—do they know that it has a dual purpose?”

  “Doubtful,” Tate answered for the room.

  Candace pondered the information. “How soon do you need my decision?”

  “The sooner, the more likely we have a good-outcome. But by morning at the latest. Any later, and we’ll lose our window,” Admiral Rollins told her.

  “Very well. Unless I hear otherwise, or I call for you sooner, we’ll reconvene here at 6:00 a.m. Is that agreeable?”

  “Ma’am,” Admiral Rollins said as acknowledgment.

  “Don’t stop looking for alternatives,” Candace directed the room. “You are asking me to sign-off on a mission that is likely to kill civilians. I don’t care how it’s dressed up. It’s my authority. If there is another option, I expect to have it presented to me. If you have any new information—whether it supports this initiative or provides caution, I expect to know immediately.” She watched as the room began to clear. “Joshua—stay.”

  Tate nodded. He waited until they were alone to address Candace. “I don’t know,” he said before she could pose a question. “I can’t say if it’s good intelligence. Rollins is right, Candace. Most times we’re acting on a guess—an informed guess, but—”

  “Joshua, I am not inclined to sign death warrants on a guess.”

  “I understand that.”

  Candace put her face in her hands and rubbed vigorously. “Goddammit!”

  Tate flinched. Candace seldom showed anger.

  “That son-of-a-bitch, Barbu lied to me.”

  “The Romanian President has his agenda,” Tate said. “If this intelligence is correct, it’s not what he’s saying on the world stage.”


  “What about the Prime Minister?” Candace inquired.

  “Appointed by Barbu—as you know,” he replied. “That doesn’t always mean they sing the same tune.”

  “Find out.”

  “Candace, I can make calls, but—”

  “I can make calls too, Joshua. Make them. Two hours. Upstairs.”

  “You want to meet in the residence?”

  “Yes. I have a few calls to make from here.” Candace nodded to the private office that adjoined the Situation Room.

  “I think I understand.”

  “I’m sure you do,” she said. “And, Joshua? Make one of your calls to Jane.”

  He nodded.

  Candace threw her head back. “Damnit.”

  ***

  Alex could tell that Candace was at her breaking point. “What was the consensus?” she asked.

  “Divided.”

  “What was the split?”

  “Four to three,” Candace replied.

  “What’s the breakdown?”

  “Melvin, Brooks, Derringer, and Pawling advised caution.”

  “Rollins thinks you should act?”

  “Yes.”

  Alex shook her head to clear the cobwebs.

  “Alex? Why is Rollins opinion what sticks out to you?”

  “Admiral Rollins was a surrogate to Bill Brackett.”

  “So, I understand,” Candace replied.

  “It doesn’t add up.”

  “What doesn’t add up?”

  “Based on what Claire has passed along, I would say he’s correct.”

  “You think I should authorize this?”

  “I didn’t say that. I can’t tell you what to do, Candace. I find it interesting that Rollins is backing the information Claire uncovered. Either he’s moved onto some new game, he’s deliberately baiting you, or he knows that we’re involved.”

  “That doesn’t help me, Alex.”

  “Maybe it does. I need to check something out.”

  “I’m on a short timetable.”

  “An hour. Give me an hour.”

  Candace sighed. “One hour. Alex, if I authorize this—”

  “I know. An hour. Call me in an hour.”

  Candace disconnected the call and laid her head on the desk. No good choice, Candy. Sometimes, there’s no good choice.

  ***

  “I thought Mom was going to be with you?” Marianne asked Jameson.