The president nodded. “That’s the guy. He was claiming to have information about a deal between the governor of Kamchatka and the Chinese Politburo. Something about trading Russian nuclear missile technology for Chinese military intervention.”
The president looked at the screen. The black and white photo of the Russian submarine base stood out next to the map of Kamchatka. “I didn’t put much stock in Mr. Grigoriev’s claims at the time, but it looks like he might have the inside track on this. Let’s see if we can find out what that gentleman has to tell us.”
“We’ve been trying, sir,” Brenthoven said. “We’ve got agents by Mr. Grigoriev’s bedside around the clock, but he’s in pretty bad shape. His doctors don’t know when he’ll be stable enough to talk to us.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t take too long,” the president said. “We may not have a lot of time.”
CHAPTER 16
National Security Advisor Gregory Brenthoven opened a door, and ushered the tall Russian man into the Roosevelt Room. A pair of tucked-leather Kittinger armchairs had been drawn up near the fireplace at the center of the curved east wall. The chairs created a small and informal meeting area, away from the long conference table.
Brenthoven nodded toward the chair on the right. “Please, Mr. Ambassador, make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you,” Ambassador Aleksandr Vladimirovich Kolesnik said. His English was only slightly accented. He sat in the offered chair, and ran a long-fingered hand through his thick white hair.
Brenthoven took the other chair. Before he could begin with the traditional diplomatic pleasantries, the Russian Ambassador cut directly to the point of the meeting.
“My government thanks you for your generous offer,” Kolesnik said. “But we do not require military assistance at the present time.”
The national security advisor watched the man for several seconds without speaking. In appearance, Kolesnik was as far removed from the stereotypical Russian bear as it was possible to be. He was thin and fastidious, with deep-set eyes and a triangular face that made his bushy white eyebrows look as though they belonged to someone else.
Brenthoven thought about allowing the pause in conversation to stretch a few seconds longer. In matters of diplomatic exchange, Ambassador Kolesnik was not comfortable with silence, a trait that could sometimes be taken advantage of. But now was not the time for gamesmanship. The Russians were already climbing the walls; there was nothing to be gained by intentionally putting their senior diplomat on the defensive. Better to get to the hard part quickly, and hope that open discussion could somehow allow them to work past more than a half-century of mutual distrust.
Brenthoven raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Ambassador, at the very
“It is not civil war,” Kolesnik said. “It is a minor local struggle. Nothing more. An insignificant uprising.”
Brenthoven fished his small leather notebook from the pocket of his jacket, and held it without opening it. “The entire Russian military has been moved to a state of high alert,
“It does not involve the United States.” Kolesnik said. “We appreciate your concern, but this is an internal matter.”
“My government does not agree,” Brenthoven said. “We have reason to believe that the insurgents have managed to deploy one of the ballistic missile submarines that was stationed in Kamchatka, along with its arsenal of 48 nuclear warheads. Mr. Ambassador, that’s more destructive force than the entire human race has unleashed in the history of this planet.”
The ambassador nodded gravely. “It is the K-506, the
Brenthoven jotted the name and hull number of the submarine in his notebook. “Has the sub been located yet? Have your naval units detected her?”
“
“I’m sorry?”
“You asked if our naval units have detected
The national security advisor smiled weakly. “I’ve never been much of a Sailor, sir. It was my understanding that seagoing vessels are
The Russian Ambassador returned the thin smile with an equally weak smile of his own. “American ships, yes. Russian ships,
Brenthoven rubbed his chin. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“There is much that America does not know about Russia,” the ambassador said. “And there is much that Russia does not know about America. Even with the Cold War behind us, our countries do not understand each other.”
He shook his head. “We thought we understood you as adversaries, but we were deluding ourselves. Now we attempt to understand you as allies, and we are still … what is the word?
Brenthoven nodded. “Both of our governments have mastered the art of misunderstanding,” he said. “But Mr. Ambassador, this is one case in which we can
“You are quite correct,” the Russian Ambassador said.
“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Brenthoven said. “Are you in a position to discuss the level of U.S. involvement? Or is that a matter better arranged by our respective presidents?”
Ambassador Kolesnik held up a finger. “Again we misunderstand each other. I agreed that our countries must make every effort to avoid miscommunication during this crisis. I did not agree to American involvement in my country’s internal affairs. My instructions from my government are quite specific. This matter will be handled by the Russian military, under the command of the Russian government.”
“Mr. Ambassador, the nuclear missiles aboard that submarine have more than enough range to reach the United States. With all due respect, sir, that’s exactly what they were
“You can treat it as an internal issue because that’s exactly what it
The answer took Brenthoven by surprise. “Pardon me, sir … Are you saying that there is some sort of foolproof technical safeguard that prevents the missiles from being fired?”
The ambassador brushed a speck of lint from the left sleeve of his suit jacket. “As with your own missile submarines, there are certain mechanical and electronic safeguards in place, but their effectiveness depends upon the loyalty of the crew. If the crew of K-506 is disloyal, as their actions so far seem to indicate, we cannot rely on those safeguards. With the cooperation of the First Officer, the Missile Officer, and most — or
