by Bob Thomas
“No sir,” Martin replied. “Not really. It was just a thought.”
The Kremlin 18:30 h
“General Goraya is on the line.”
“General, it is good that you called me.”
“Da, Andrey. Things did not go well on this mission. The American pilots are back to their cowboy ways.”
“It is unfortunate yes, but we live in a world of unfortunate events. We must make the most of them.” Andrey leaned forward as his elbows dug into his desk.“ President Novichkov is furious with the American’s reaction.”
“I would think so. What does he propose?”
“The Americans should see that we will not back down, that we will stand up to them. He wants to show them we operate from a position of strength, that we should show them we will not be cowed, that we have just as much right to the skies as they do, or any nation of the world.”
“Da. Our president sees the world as it should be. It is, unfortunately, not always so. What does he propose?”
Day three
Alaska Command
Lieutenant Donny T., as he was generally referred to, spent the next several days pouring over military dispatches, satellite data, intel analysis, raw computer data and nearly anything else General Foxx could get his hands on, through proper channels or not. He was even able to ‘acquire’ Navy records from the Seventh Fleet out of Yokosuka, Japan. Though he always thought himself a quick study, he was taken aback by the sheer flood of data he was dealing with. Most he was able to sift through, knowing it was garbage, but he kept it around. Trends, he was looking for trends.
“What do you have, Tonney?” General Foxx scanned the pile of scotch tape and markers as he strolled around the table. He looked up as another pile of papers was summarily dropped onto a metal desk against the wall with a resounding thud. Lieutenant Tonney rolled his eyes at the sound. “I thought you were tough, Tonney.”
“Sir. I just need a bit of sleep, sir.”
“You’ll have plenty of that when this is all done. Anything new?”
Tonney didn’t answer right away, he went straight to the map and started scribbling with a red marker.
“I thought you just used a black marker, son?”
“There are too many things to keep track of, General.” Donny T. straightened, bending slightly backward, his hands on the back of his hips. “Black is for those operations that seem historically normal, or at least not out of the ordinary as far as Russian ops go. Red is for operations that seem to appear outside of their historical scope.”
“There’s a lot of writing on this map.”
“Yes sir.” Tonney crossed his arms as he looked over his view of the world. “Once you see it all written out, there sure are a ton of operations going on around the world.”
“Always has been, son. It’s what we do.”
“Sir, why didn’t we do this in the tactical center?”
“Easy answer, Tonney.” Foxx pulled on his cigar and rolled the smoke around his mouth before letting it slip into the purified air. “Tactical doesn’t give us the full picture since it only shows our theater of operations. Besides, they won’t let me smoke in there.”
Tonney nearly laughed before he realized General Foxx was serious. He began circling the table as well, taking in the whole picture. He knew this really didn’t matter. He could see the same thing from any angle, but it at least felt like it helped. He reached the bottom of the world and stood beside his commander.
“I see some patterns, General.” Tonney pointed to the red areas in the Alaskan command theater. “Outside of the incursion into Alaska, there are others that stand out.”
“Such as.”
“A month ago, three Russian planes, an airborne sentry and two Su-35 fighters came over the pole, right to the edge of U.S. airspace. They turned away at the last moment.”
“What’s so unusual about that?”
“General, in the last six weeks more and more of the planes sortieing close to our borders have been some of their newest versions. Before that, their sorties had been mostly older craft.”
“Could be just an upgrade to the fleet.”
“Could be sir. Perhaps they are testing the newer technology, but historically, they do that in low-key situations. Would you put a brand new untested F-35 up against a veteran Russian pilot in such a mission?”
“Probably not.”
“And I wouldn’t think they would either.”
“Where else? You said there were some patterns.”
“Well, other than the use of equipment, look at all these sorties. They have been creeping closer and closer to our airspace with each successive week.” He pointed down the map to the Russo-Chinese border. “Even here, tensions have been raised. Chinese fighters intercepted Russian patrols twice in two months.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes sir. Most of the increasing action has been in the east, but almost all of it has involved the air force.”
“Almost?”
“Yes sir. Almost.” Tonney pointed to the coast along the Barents Sea. “Last month, they launched a new sub class out of Severomorsk, a Yesin-class. We have no info on it at all. We believe it traversed the GIU gap between Iceland and the U.K., but we can’t confirm that. If it’s so quiet it can slip by the SOSUS nets …”
“That’s a problem,” Foxx replied.
“Yes sir. Ever since the cold war ended, those have not been kept up. They’re almost a non-functioning barrier.”
“How does an Air Force puke know that, Lieutenant?”
“My brother wears a dolphin on his collar, sir.”
“Good man then.” Foxx pointed to the other red marks scattered about the map. “What about all this other stuff?”
“Too soon to tell, General. Perhaps another set of eyes might help.”
“I want to keep this low-key. You’re the brains of this right now Lieutenant.”
“What do you think is going on, General?”
“I’m not sure, but I just don’t think this is an isolated incident. The crash is, but not the incursion.”
“I’ll keep looking sir.”
“You do that Tonney. You do that.”
Day four
Alaska Command
“So we never found any trace of Captain Wills?”
“No sir. No trace of the Raptor was even seen. The Navy is still looking, but the odds aren’t good this time of year.”
“Thank you.” The airman snapped off a salute and was quickly out the door. General Foxx leaned back on the edge of his desk. For his age, he was fit as a fiddle, a sure sign of working to keep up with his junior officers. He’d seen many a commander get the middle-aged spread, and he was determined that wouldn’t happen to him. A knock on his door brought him to a standing position.
“Captain Will Jenner reporting, sir.”
“Thank you Captain.” Foxx waved to the chair across from his desk as he returned to his own seat. “What can you tell me about what’s happened?”
“Probably not much more than you already know, General.”
“Why did Dulles send you over? What are you going to bring to the table?”
“Well sir, I was there when this all went down. I’ve also come up through intelligence. Had a posting there for a few years. I have a minor in Russian studies as well.”
“You might be the guy then.”
“For what, General?”
“We’re running an analysis of Russian movements over the past six months. Trying to keep this in-house. My young hot shot lieutenant hasn’t come up with anything in three days. He’s good, but he doesn’t have the experience. General Dulles said you were good.”
“What’s your theory, General?”
“I don’t know that I have one yet, Captain.”
“Sir?”
“Something just doesn’t feel right about this. There’s no reason for the Russians to start putting pressure at the top of the world, or anywhere else, for that matter. Now, all
of a sudden within a few weeks, things are happening. Things that aren’t so big that a whole lot of people would notice.”
“But you noticed, General.”
“I’m supposed to notice things, Captain. It’s my job.”
“Where do I check in, sir?”
“You’ll have two places you’ll be working right off.” Foxx leaned back into his chair as his left hand reached to his drawer. Out popped a thick cigar, the wrap tinged with a hint of green. He lifted it towards Jenner who politely nodded ‘no’. Foxx slid it back into his drawer.
“I had enough of those when I worked on the farm, General. Gave them up years ago.”
“Farm?”
“I did some summers working on a tobacco farm in high school.” Captain Jenner leaned back slightly in his chair, a slight smile awash across his face. “Those make me sicker than a dog, sir.”
“You just had the wrong smoke, son.” Foxx slid the roll beneath his nose before slipping it back into the drawer. “Several from Costa Rica come close to rivaling the Cubans.”
Will Jenner nodded again.
“You’ll work in tactical to try and pick up as much intel as you possibly can and help my young Lieutenant assemble it right outside my office. We call it the ‘map room’. You’ll see every piece of intel I can get my hands on. Where that info comes from, I don’t really give a damn.”
“Do we have a time frame on this, General?”
“As quick as can be, Captain. I don’t want to be caught off guard if something happens.”
The next two days passed much too quickly for Captain Jenner, but he had to give Tonney credit. He’d done a remarkable job in beginning to see patterns in Russian movements, especially for someone who hadn’t been trained in what to look for. A damn fine job. He’d laid the groundwork, but sometimes, you just had to see the intel with your own eyes. Will Jenner poured over every detail Tonney had eyes on, retraced his steps and his thoughts. But something was missing. That was what he was here for; uncover the last details.
Jenner ran his fingers through his hair as another pile of intel and intercepts was plopped on the table. He rocked back in his chair, pressing his head against his interlocked hands. He was tired. More, he was nearly exhausted. He was now on day three and knew nothing was coming together the way he wanted. But he also knew it didn’t work that way. Intelligence was more than being smart, the joke went. It was about working to an end. It was putting together a puzzle that didn’t have any edge pieces. All you had were middle pieces and you had to make sense of it all without a picture. And after three days, the picture wasn’t forming. It was time to get some sleep.
He awoke with a start, his eyes searching in the darkness. That was it! That was the key. Jenner threw off the covers and ran to the door of his room. Good thing he hadn’t bothered to undress. He hit the hall running at a full clip and was standing at the map in ten minutes. Then the papers began to fly. Pile after pile began to circle around the map as he sorted. Other papers began to hit the floor, discarded like yesterday’s scraps. A single page then caught his attention, a red circle around the word Brezhnev. That was it.
Jenner began sorting all the papers with ‘Brezhnev’ against those without. And he began to smile.
“What’re you doing?” Jenner spun at the sound of the deep voice behind him, and the tell-tale smell of the cigar. “I thought you went to get some sleep?”
“I did, General. But, I couldn’t. Something was nagging at me and I think I’ve figured it out.”
“Uh huh.” General Foxx stepped up to the map, walking on top of the papers now strewn on the floor. “I assume you don’t need any of those?”
“Probably not, General.”
“Well, whad’a ya have?”
“This.” Jenner handed Foxx the paper that had started this sort.
“What is this?”
“The word circled at the top, sir. Brezhnev.”
“The former Soviet leader? Is it code?”
“Not quite, sir. Although spelled the same, it is a different person.” Jenner leaned down on the map with his palms flush against the table. “All these piles on this side have Brezhnev’s stamp of approval on them. These on the left side, do not.”
“And that is important, why?”
“None of these on the left were authorized by the Russian Air Force command directly, specifically General Anton Brezhnev.”
“Someone’s playing cowboy.”
“Looks to be that way, sir.”
“Shit.” General Foxx turned away. “I’ve got a call to make.”
Day Seven
The White House
The ravages of winter had cemented its grip on the nation’s capital. A blanket of white, pristine and smooth covered not only the political sins of the city, but the grounds of the White House as well. Tensions were running high. The incident with the Russians had cast a pall over the preparations for a formal, state dinner that had been in the planning for months. It was intended to smooth over relations that had simmered just beneath a boil, ever since the Russian intervention in Ukraine the previous year. If it was up to the president’s chief of staff, he’d have canceled it all. Protocol be damned.
“They’ll be gathering in an hour, sir.”
“Thank you, Mary.” He turned and looked at his secretary, a term he probably shouldn’t use in these days of political correctness. She was his assistant, but that term just didn’t sit well with him. They had been together for many years, and she understood him. After his wife was killed in a car accident, she was the only woman’s voice in his life.
“How do I look?” Martin Powell was more than just a throwback in words. Politics was a dirty game and he did everything he could to keep it clean in this White House. He ceased being a politician the day he accepted his current role. She walked over to him and slid her fingers beneath his lapels.
“You did just fine. I couldn’t have picked a better suit myself.”
“It’s the only tux I own. It wasn’t really hard.”
“You’re expected in the Oval Office in fifteen minutes.”
The chief of staff nodded and grabbed her hand, squeezing it softly as he walked by and out of his office. He took his time as he strolled down the hall to what he considered the most important room in the world. This part of the White House, even on a night where there was an official gathering, would be rather quiet. There were a few more bodies walking about, several of those included extra security, both visible military, and undercover Secret Service. There would be nothing that would go wrong this night. He nodded as he passed the Marine guard as he stepped into the Oval Office.
“Evening, Marty.”
“Mr. President,” he replied, another nod as he made his way to one of the two white couches near the center of the room.
Arrayed about the room were various cabinet members and ranking members of Congress. The discussion was light-hearted until the meeting hour, then things began to get serious.
“Gentlemen,” POTUS began, “tonight we have a chance to smooth over some things that have been festering. President Novichkov and I will have some serious discussions as time permits. He must be made to understand the intervention in Ukraine is unacceptable to the United States and, although he knows this, I intend to reaffirm our position.”
“What would you like us to do, Mr. President?”
“Thank you, Simon, that was my next speech.” POTUS smiled, knowing full well not everyone in the room was on his side. But tonight, it wasn’t his side, it was the side of the United States. “I know several of you wouldn’t care if I was in this office tomorrow or not, but this isn’t about me. This is about the future of our national security and our NATO partners. What we achieve here tonight could help stabilize the situation in Europe.” He scanned the room for reaction. There was none, at least none he could read. “Tonight, we offer help.”
“Offer help how?” Wallace Chambers, the senior senator from Florida chimed in.
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��With whatever we can. If you’re asked about trade, talk trade. Look to make minor concessions.” POTUS straightened in his seat. “I know we can’t promise the world, but we can at least look like we want to engage in a positive manner.”
“What if they don’t bite, Mr. President?”
“Well Simon, then all we can say is we tried. Even if it doesn’t bring results immediately, it might open up some channels we haven’t looked at before. We can always look at contacts down the line.”
“But Mr. President, the people of my state … “
“Are not the issue here tonight, Senator Chambers,” POTUS interjected. The look in the president’s eye was steadfast. “This is a foreign policy initiative, not some gerrymandering function of a local party hack.” POTUS stood, then buttoned the top button on his jacket. “Thank you gentlemen. Uh, Martin, could you stay a second?”
“Yes sir,” Martin said as he sat back down on the couch.
“Marty,” POTUS said as the door closed behind the last visitor. “I’ve got something for you to look into as well.”
“I suspected as such.”
“President Novichkov’s chief of staff will also be here tonight. I’d like you to cozy up to him some. You know, sort of the same two guys doing the same job for a bastard of a boss sort of thing.”
“Should I use that phrasing, Mr. President?” Martin smiled.”
“If you need to, yes. See if you can gain any insight on the Alaskan situation.”
“Yes sir.”
“Let’s do this, Martin.” POTUS pushed through the door and into the hallway, his chief of staff just steps behind.
The state room was brimming with conversation, mostly between sub-level dignitaries of nations. Although several European countries were represented, the highlight was Russian president Yuri Novichkov. It was to be the first time the American president and his rival had met during either’s tenure. The situation in the Ukraine had heightened tensions between the powers, but what happened in Alaska put a severe damper on the visit. Edwin Kiger looked over the room quickly as he stepped to the door and the announcement was made.