Cold Choices

Sotera, even Winters were equally worried. The three uniformed officers exchanged glances, then Winters carefully asked, “Why would the State Department want personal information on service members?”

Parker explained, “For the press releases, of course. Since this involves our relations with a foreign country, State will coordinate our media response.”

Gosport shook her head. “No. Involving State moves this to a higher level. For the moment, we will let the Navy deal with the media.” She deliberately looked over the assembled group, including everyone in her gaze. “It is my desire that this crisis be resolved with as little media attention as possible, and with that coverage favorable.”

“The last question regards who is best suited to coordinate the United States’ response. While I’m sure State is willing to take this on, I will again insist that this be handled at a lower level.” She looked to Admiral Sotera. “How about within the Navy?”

Richardson and the admiral conferred, the captain spoke. “Seawolf is part of Submarine Group Two in New London. Admiral Sloan is Commander SUBGRU Two and is en route here. So is Admiral Keller, COMSUBFORLANT, his immediate superior.”

“Then my recommendation will be that Admiral Sloan is designated the action officer for this incident.” She glanced at the clock. “I’ll be speaking with Dr. Wright immediately. Please inform your superiors that he may convene a full meeting this evening. Thank you.” She stood up and quickly left, while an aide gathered her notes.

That’s it? Patterson checked her watch. Twenty minutes of briefings and fifteen minutes of discussion? They’d barely mentioned Seawolf and her casualties, or the crew of the Russian sub. Both of them deserved, no, demanded more.

As the meeting broke up, Patterson approached Dr. Russo and asked for a copy of his brief — the full version.

Russo smiled at her interest. “I’m not usually called on to brief. I apologize for sharing my enthusiasm.” He handed her his hard copy of the slides. “You might as well take this one. It would just go into the shredder. At least someone will read it.”

“Don’t throw all that work away just yet, Doctor.” She smiled warmly. “And please, call me Joanna. We may need your expertise. I wish I’d heard more about actually helping those subs.”

“I wouldn’t like to be in Captain Rudel’s place right now. No nuclear sub has ever been as damaged as his and not headed straight for the barn. Once he finds the Russian, he’ll have to stay on station until the Northern Fleet shows up with a rescue force. And I don’t think this is going to be a simple handoff. Seawolf’s UUVs could be critical in saving the boat. The Russians have nothing like them, which means Seawolf could be there for the entire operation.”

Patterson frowned, imagining just how many ways things could go wrong. Then she wondered how many more ways there were that she couldn’t imagine.

CNN Report

“This is Jody Stevens in Moscow. A Russian Navy spokesman just released a report on the loss of the nuclear attack submarine Severodvinsk.

“The press release did not name the sub, but did describe the ‘loss of a new first-rank nuclear submarine to mysterious and hostile actions.’ The Russian naval officer would not elaborate on what might have caused the loss, but stated that ‘Russian submarines are well built and not subject to accidental loss. Only deliberate actions by another vessel could have put our submarine in danger.’

“When asked about Russian search-and-rescue plans, the Russian captain said the search was proceeding according to plans drawn up long before in accordance with fleet procedures. Weather in the area is very bad, but the captain insisted that the Northern Fleet was used to such severe conditions and would not be hampered.

“He refused to say whether the submarine has been located, or when rescue units could expect to arrive on the scene.”

Washington, DC

Patterson’s office was also in the Old Executive Office Building. She might have access to the president, with an appointment, of course, but that did not rate a desk in the West Wing.

Still, it was on the third floor, facing east, toward the White House, and she’d paid for the decorator herself. Antiques, warm colors and fresh flowers not only made it a pleasant place to work, but a place to visit. She also made sure that she had the best coffee on the floor, and comfortable chairs.

Her assistant, Jane Matsui, looked up as Patterson almost burst through the door. Patterson saw her reach for a stack of message slips and waved her off. “Call Ben Castle and tell him I need to speak with the adviser as soon as he finishes getting briefed by Gosport. It’s about Seawolf. Don’t let him put you off.” Matsui recognized her tone and dialed.

While her assistant spoke to the national security adviser’s office, Patterson quickly checked her emails. Only one answer, so far, but it was one of Lowell’s friends in the Pentagon. His only thoughts on the crisis were “Make sure Rudel’s got a friend in the room.”

Fifteen minutes later and one floor up, Patterson nodded to Wright’s staff. Adrienne Gosport was just leaving the adviser’s office, and she was more than a little surprised to see Patterson. She recovered quickly, though, and smiled thinly as she left for her own office next door.

Jeffrey Wright’s doctorate was in political economics. He tended to see conflicts in those terms, and he wasn’t an ideologue, which meant he tended toward the long view. Huber had appointed him as the national security adviser based on his raw intellect and the fact that without Wright he might not have carried the northeastern states.

Wright was a tall man, almost scrawny. Patterson often thought of a pile of sticks when she saw him in a chair with his legs crossed. His bushy hair was almost pure white, with only a few streaks of his original brown remaining. Although over seventy, he exercised frequently, de rigueur for anyone in the Huber administration.

“Jeffrey, the administration has to take a more active role in assisting Seawolf.”

“Nice to see you, too, Joanna.” Wright smiled and shook hands, then ushered her to a seat — not the one across his desk, but another, nearer and on the same side of the desk as his. He shrugged. “We’re letting Rudel continue with his search.”

“And doing not a single thing more,” Patterson countered. “He’s on a crippled sub in the middle of the Barents Sea and the only help he’s getting from us are some new radio parts.”

“That’s all he’s asked for.”

She smiled. “And you can’t think of another thing we can do to help him.” When Wright didn’t respond immediately, she stood and paced quickly, trying to walk off her frustration. “I wish you had run that meeting. This wouldn’t be happening. They were worried about everything except getting those men home safely.

“Their plan is for Jeff Sloan to manage the ‘incident’ from New London,” she argued. “He can barely communicate with Seawolf, even when her radios are working, which they’re not!”

Wright sighed. “I agree. He’s working at arm’s length.”

“And he’ll be working at arm’s length with the Russians, too,” she added.

“You sound like that’s a bad idea.”

Patterson shook her head. “I’m not going to say anything bad about Jeff Sloan to the President’s National Security Adviser. He’s a fine officer and very charismatic.”

“But,” Wright prompted.

“He’s like ninety-five percent of the military men I know. He’s not political. He doesn’t think in those terms. In fact, he avoids thinking in those terms.”

“While you live for it.” Wright smiled.

“I’m a people person, Jeffrey.” She smiled back.

“All right. You’ve convinced me that we need better communications, both with Seawolf and the Russians. Adrienne really didn’t look very hard for an action officer. I’m certainly not obligated to follow her recommendation. I think it should be you. We’ll send you to USS Churchill along with those radio parts.”

Patterson stared at him.

Wright started ticking off items on an imaginary checklist. “You understand the technical and political issues.