Colt's Crisis

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Colt's Crisis Page 6

by Tom Carroll


  “Mr. Garrett,” Carlisle said, “Captain Winters has told me you spent some time in the Navy and retired as a captain. Surface warfare, right? So, you’re probably not accustomed to the opulence of an admiral’s cabin.”

  Colt knew immediately that the one-star admiral was letting him know this was his ship, and that he simply saw Colt as another retired reserve officer. This wasn’t the first time Colt had dealt with an official asserting dominance in a meeting, attempting to control the relationship. He knew the key to dealing with this personality type was to pretend to not understand the insult and then recalibrate the individual.

  “You’re right about that, Admiral. The last time I served on a carrier, I was a lieutenant and didn’t get invited much to the admiral’s cabin for coffee and scones. I do appreciate your taking time from your schedule to see me this morning. I actually was surprised we didn’t see you when we landed.”

  Captain Winters caught the admonition imbedded in the undersecretary’s comment but wasn’t confident his admiral did. Winters considered jumping into the conversation to make an excuse for the admiral’s protocol mistake but decided it would be more interesting to watch his boss squirm and put out his own fire.

  “Well, I guess I didn’t realize what honors were required,” said the red-faced admiral. “We don’t get many civilian bureaucrats visiting us way out here,” he added.

  Colt smiled. “No worries, Joe. Say, Lenny, would you ask the ship’s captain to lend Rear Admiral Lower Half Carlisle a copy of Naval Tactical Publication 13? I guess us old ship drivers just assume all Naval officers have a copy.” Turning back to Admiral Carlisle, Colt explained, “You see, Joe, NTP-13(B) is the Navy’s bible for honors, or at least it was way back when I served.”

  Admiral Carlisle turned a deeper shade of red and quietly cleared his throat. “That won’t be necessary. I know the regulations.”

  “Good, Admiral. Now let’s talk about the purpose of my visit.”

  Later, after Colt and his team left the cabin and headed toward their assigned berthing, Admiral Carlisle and Captain Winters sat back down, and each poured himself another cup of coffee.

  “Did you hear what that jerk said to me?” Carlisle snapped. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that civilian get away with treating me like a junior officer! I’m glad we stuck him and his assistant in that small stateroom!”

  Captain Winters thought the undersecretary’s dressing down of the admiral was well deserved and actually nicely done. He phrased his response carefully.

  “Mr. Garrett did seem a little offended at how we handled his reception. I heard that Vice Admiral Shaffer personally welcomed him aboard the Blue Ridge with full honors. Perhaps a graceful way out would be for you to invite him to breakfast tomorrow morning in your cabin. We don’t need him calling Shaffer and making trouble. Maybe have his son come, too, so things will be calm and friendly. Just an idea. . .”

  Admiral Carlisle was still irritated, but he saw the logic in Winters’ suggestion. They could have a nice, friendly, breakfast and then he could figure out how to get rid of Garrett ASAP. Carlisle smiled and said, “Good idea, Gary. Ask him, his assistant, and his son to join me for breakfast tomorrow.”

  Undersecretary’s Stateroom, The Reagan

  “I just about died when you put Carlisle in his place,” remarked Lenny to Colt. “What an egotistical asshole!”

  Lenny had worked closely with Colt Garrett for years and thoroughly enjoyed the rare occurrence when Colt made it clear he wouldn’t be bullied by anyone.

  “I probably shouldn’t have done that,” Colt admitted, “but I’ve never liked that sort of officer. I’m glad Admiral Shaffer gave me a heads-up regarding Carlisle. I’m guessing his chief of staff probably talked him into the breakfast invitation. Adding Dan was a smart move, too.”

  “When are you going to let him off the hook?” Lenny asked. “We’re going to need his cooperation to get this review done.”

  “You’re right, of course.” Colt took a deep breath. “Tomorrow, I promise to play nice and pretend today didn’t happen. But for now, you better climb down from that bunk because Dan is due any minute and we’re going to need some privacy.”

  When there was a knock on the door a moment later, Lenny opened it. There stood Lieutenant Dan Garrett with a slight scowl on his face. Dan stood 6’ 2” and weighed 190 pounds. Although he had a more athletic build than Colt, it was clear the two were father and son.

  “Hi, I’m Len Wilson, and I’m guessing you’re Lieutenant Garrett. I work for your dad,” explained Lenny as he extended his hand. Dan firmly returned the handshake, looking Lenny squarely in the eye as his father had taught him to do more than 20 years ago. “Lieutenant Dan Garrett, sir. Pleased to meet you,” Dan replied.

  “I think I’ll go see if they’re serving lunch yet and give you two some time to catch up,” said Lenny as he disappeared into the passageway.

  “Have a seat, Dan. Thanks for coming by. It’s good to see you! How are you doing?”

  Dan hesitated, then pulled a metal chair out from the desk and sat down, keeping the stressed look on his face.

  “Just fine, Dad — or I was until I saw you step off the Osprey. Why are you even here? And why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”

  Colt could see Dan was not necessarily happy to see him, and he was suddenly worried this was not going to go well.

  “I’m officially here to review our western Pacific operations and assess our interactions with the North Koreans and Chinese. But as an added benefit, I get to see you and meet the people in your squadron. I also was able to visit your mom on this trip when I stopped in Seattle. We had a chance to talk things out a bit, which we needed.”

  Dan still blamed his father for his parents living on separate coasts and couldn’t seem to let it go. He was close to his mother and hated to see her unhappy. At least it was good to hear they had spent some quality time together.

  “How’s Mom doing?” Dan asked. “I talked to her last week, and she had just gone skiing with friends. She sounded like she had a pretty good time.”

  “I think she’s doing well,” replied Colt. “We do miss each other, so it was good to be together. We agreed to speak again after this trip. She even talked about flying to D.C. and possibly staying awhile.”

  Dan felt unexpectedly relieved and reassured. “That’s excellent news, Dad, and it makes me happy to hear it.” Then quickly changing the topic, “So, how long are you going to be here on the Reagan?”

  “Most likely a couple of weeks, but I’ll know more in a few days. I did get a chance to see Admiral Shaffer when I came through Tokyo, and he said to say hello to you.” Colt poured two cups of coffee, handed one to his son, and continued. “So, tell me, what does your squadron think of Admiral Carlisle?” Colt figured the airwing would have an opinion of the group commander. Since the time of John Paul Jones, Sailors had been freely offering critical observations of their commanding officers.

  “I haven’t met him,” Dan confessed. “But those who have think he’s a joke. Seriously! People say he’s barely competent in the airplane, and that he’s using the Navy and this tour as CTF 70 just to launch a political career and follow in his father’s footsteps. He’s even got a news crew following him around the ship making a film or something. Sounds like he’s just an empty suit.”

  Colt found it ironic that the crew’s unfavorable opinion of Admiral Carlisle mirrored that of the 7th Fleet commander, and Dan suddenly remembered how good it felt to spend time, be honest and level with his father. He was a good man to talk to.

  “Well, son, you’re going to get the chance to see and decide for yourself, because we’ve been invited to his cabin for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  “But I have a flight during Event One tomorrow morning! We brief at 0700!”

  “Not anymore,” Colt said. “I talked with your skipper, and asked him to pull you off the flight schedule.”

  The more relaxed expression o
n Dan’s face suddenly changed back to one of anger.

  “Wait — you talked with my skipper and canceled my flight, without asking me first?”

  Before Colt could respond, Dan stood, turned, and said, “You know, I have a lot of work to do. I got to get going.” He quickly left the stateroom, letting the door slam behind him.

  Russian Military Intelligence HQ, Khodinka Airfield, Moscow

  General Korobov learned that Colton Garrett was to be appointed as acting secretary of defense even before Garrett was notified, but it didn’t make the news any better. In fact, things couldn’t be worse. Any hope for a shift away from the O’Kane Doctrine and its punitive effect on Russian affairs was eliminated entirely with the doctrine’s primary architect serving as the acting defense secretary. True, thought Korobov, the appointment is not permanent, but all indications coming from the White House strongly suggest the acting appointment could soon transform into a nomination and inevitably be confirmed by the Senate. Garrett will no doubt replace or reassign those key individuals the former deputy secretary, Travis Webb, had positioned. And what about Travis Webb and that ridiculous photo scandal of his? Why do these Americans pose for politically damaging photographs and then express shock when the photographs become public and threaten their political careers? Truly remarkable! Webb might yet prove useful, though, depending on where he lands. He will probably have to keep his head down until the scandal becomes yesterday’s news. An eventual position with a major defense contractor could be the best scenario, given our appetite for American military technology. And what to do about Colton Garrett? We have no leverage on him, and to date, we have been unable to have much influence on him.

  The more consideration the GRU chief gave to the challenges posed by Colton Garrett as defense secretary, the more he became convinced the man must not be allowed to serve in that critical position. The report on his desk indicated Garrett was not currently in Washington, but on an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific. The GRU had recruited and maintained sources of intelligence on several of the American aircraft carriers, and that included the very ship on which Garrett was embarked, USS Ronald Reagan. These sources typically were Sailors or Marines motivated by a wide range of personal reasons.

  Historically, most U.S. government and military organizations assumed only those who were susceptible to some type of leverage would betray their own country. Security background investigations focused on finding personality flaws, allegiances, political beliefs, and other undisclosed behaviors that might make a typically patriotic person vulnerable to blackmail by a foreign power. But in recent years, it had become evident to U.S. counterintelligence agencies that people would betray their country for the most basic of all reasons: greed. The Walker case of the 1980s, which typified this kind of scenario, would not have been discovered had Warrant Officer John Walker’s wife not reported her suspicions to the FBI. But greed is exceptionally difficult to discover through a security background investigation, and almost impossible to detect without full access to an individual’s financial transactions — or a phone call from a suspicious spouse.

  General Korobov knew he needed to contact his superiors as soon as possible with an approach to prevent Garrett’s permanent appointment, a plan that would require approval at the highest level of the Russian government. That would take time to obtain, time he would need to fully develop some options from which he would select the most promising approach. He reached into his drawer for the file on the Reagan and reacquainted himself with the list of Russian officers controlling the Reagan collection efforts. He smiled when he saw that Colonel Dimitri Petrov was the principal controller, and he proceeded to initiate the clandestine contact protocols necessary to instruct Colonel Petrov to develop several options to eliminate Colton Garrett.

  Office of the Supreme Leader, Pyongyang, North Korea

  The Supreme Leader sat at his massive desk and nodded as he read the intelligence summary in his hands. He had insisted on personally reading all significant intelligence reports regarding his foe to the south, and today he marveled at the stupidity of an officer sharing vital military secrets with a woman while making love. The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea had extensive networks of agents throughout South Korea. One of the most recently placed operatives had discovered that the Americans had unknowingly misplaced several biological warheads many years ago, which the South Koreans now had hidden somewhere. There was a time when the discovery of weapons of mass destruction in South Korea would have caused panic in the north, and immediate operations would have been initiated to locate and seize them. But today, the Supreme Leader saw the newly discovered warheads as a way to further delay the reunification of his country, a precondition imposed by the Americans before sanctions that were strangling his country would be lifted. He began to formulate a strategy. It would start with a communication to the U.S. that North Korea held indisputable proof that South Korea was hiding several American biological warheads, and because of that fact, he could not consider even the smallest reduction of his military forces. The international coalition formed by the Americans to expand their sanctions on his country would collapse when the existence of the warheads in South Korea became public.

  The Supreme Leader called his secretary into his office. He instructed the man to schedule an emergency meeting of his military council, to be followed by a statement to the international press. Formal notification to the American president and to the United Nations secretary general would come next, and then his country would be free of the American sanctions forever.

  Flag Cabin, USS Ronald Reagan

  In over 240 years of defending the United States against its enemies, perhaps the most essential process the U.S. Navy had perfected was how to feed Sailors at sea. And although many would say submariners of the Silent Service ate best, it would be hard to compete with the admiral’s galley on a Nimitz-class carrier. This morning’s meal included a selection of breakfast meats, eggs cooked to order, French toast, and an attractive selection of fruits and pastries. Admiral Carlisle beamed as he watched his grateful guests partake in the sumptuous breakfast.

  “We try to make do at sea as it takes the monotony out of a long deployment. More sausage for you, Lieutenant?” asked Admiral Carlisle, turning to face Dan Garrett.

  Dan, who had remained quiet and preoccupied through the meal, now pushed back from the table and shook his head. He was sure he had consumed the equivalent of three typical breakfasts. On second thought, maybe losing the morning’s flight was worth the meal he had just finished. Perhaps he could forgive his father. Again.

  “No, thank you, Admiral,” he replied politely. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  “How about you, Mr. Undersecretary? There’s plenty more if you’re interested.”

  It had been a pleasant albeit quiet morning, with snippets of small talk on assorted subjects of relative unimportance. Now, Lenny watched his boss’s face as Colt wiped his mouth with the fine linen napkin, remembering yesterday’s promise to smooth things over today with the admiral. Colt had been uncharacteristically quiet during the meal, and Lenny knew his response to the admiral would indicate if things would improve today.

  “No, Admiral, I think I’ve had my fill,” Colt answered as he placed his napkin on the table. Lenny glanced over to see if the admiral had caught the double entendre, but Carlisle was already listening to his chief of staff discuss the day’s operations plan.

  “It looks like we’re conducting flight ops in the Sea of Japan today. It might be a good opportunity for you and Mr. Wilson to tour the ship,” suggested the admiral. “I'm sure Captain Solari can get you into the catapult and arresting gear spaces, and I know the airwing commander can get you out on the Landing Signal Officer platform. It’s exhilirating to stand so close to the aircraft as they land!”

  Lenny wondered if the admiral was simply trying to be hospitable, but Colt knew the proposed tour was just a ploy to keep him busy and block him from assessing
the carrier group’s operations. He and Lenny had limited time, and several hours wandering through the enormous ship would be better spent talking with the admiral’s staff regarding interaction with North Korean and Chinese naval forces.

  “I appreciate the tour offer, Admiral, but Lenny has prepared an agenda of things I’ll need to discuss with your staff.”

  Lenny took the prompt, opening his briefcase and passing copies of the agenda around the table. Admiral Carlisle took a few minutes to read the three-page document and then loudly slammed his fist on the table.

  “What the hell is this, Garrett?” Carlisle demanded. “I don’t want my staff wasting valuable time answering your questions. I have a Battle Force to run! My orders from 7th Fleet say nothing about any evaluation of my operations. I won’t waste time dealing with this Pentagon bullshit just so you can justify flying halfway around the world to see your kid!” He thought for a moment, then added, “I’m placing a call to Admiral Shaffer to get this crap straightened out!”

  Several things simultaneously floated through Dan’s mind. The admiral really is a piece of work, he mused. Furthermore, Dad is an old shipmate of Vice Admiral Schaffer, and I’m reasonably sure he wouldn’t be conducting this assessment without Shaffer’s knowledge and permission. But most importantly, where did this asshole get off calling a me a kid?

  Captain Winters was still wincing from his admiral yelling at the senior DOD official. He, Lenny, and Dan took secret delight as Garrett grinned and very calmly responded, “That will be an interesting phone call, Joe.”

  The red-faced admiral was about to react to Colt’s threatening tone when there was a loud knock at the cabin door. A lieutenant commander had come into the cabin with a gold, braided aiguillette draped on his left shoulder, indicating he served as the admiral’s aide.

 

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