“That is the information, sir.”
“Where is he?”
“As a matter of fact, Mr. President, we know quite a lot about him. He has supported several terrorist groups as you know. He was the loudest Islamic voice against the Vatican Treaty, but he lost a lot of prestige when it started working, and that did not improve his disposition very much. Daryaei lives in Qum in Iran. His political faction is losing some of its power, and there's already been an attempt on his life.”
“Is their story plausible?”
“Yes, Mr. President, it is.”
“You think Daryaei capable of such a thing?”
“On the record, sir, I would have to say that he is. Yes.”
“He lives in Qum?”
“Correct. It's a city with a religious history, very important to the Shi'a branch of Islam. I don't know the exact population, certainly more than a hundred thousand.”
“Where in Qum does he live?”
“That's the problem. He moves around a lot. He was nearly killed last year, and he learned from that. Never sleeps in the same place twice, so we hear. He stays in the same part of the city, but I can't give you a location better than plus or minus a mile or so.”
“He did this?”
“So it would seem, Mr. President. That's our best data.”
“But you can't localize him better than a mile.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fowler contemplated that for a few seconds before speaking, but when he did, Ryan's blood turned to ice.
“That's close enough.”
PRESIDENT NARMONOV:
WE HAVE APPREHENDED THE TERRORISTS AND DETERMINED THE EXTENT OF THE OPERATION…
“Is this possible?”
“Yes, I would say so,” Golovko replied. “Daryaei is a fanatic. He loathes the Americans.”
“Those barbarians tried to bait us into—”
“Let them handle it,” Golovko advised. “It is they who suffered the worst losses.”
“You know what he will wish to do?”
“Yes, Comrade President, as do you.”
PRESIDENT FOWLER:
PENDING EXAMINATION OF THE EVIDENCE I WILL ACCEPT YOUR LAST COMMUNICATION AS FACT. WE WASH OUR HANDS OF THIS. WHATEVER ACTION YOU FEEL IS NECESSARY. WE WILL NOT OBJECT NOW OR IN THE FUTURE. THESE MADMEN WERE WILLING TO DESTROY US BOTH. TO HELL WITH THEM.
“Christ, Andruska,” Ryan murmured. That's a clear statement! The President read the message off the screen without a word.
Ryan had been under the impression that Narmonov had kept control of his emotions, but now the reverse seemed to be true. Fowler sat rock-steady in his chair, surveying the room with calm eyes.
“The world will learn a lesson from this,” Fowler said. “I'll make sure that nobody ever does this again.”
Another phone line went off. “Mr. President, FBI, sir.”
“Yes?”
“Mr. President, this is Murray, we've just had a flash from the Bundeskriminalamt — that's the German Federal Criminal Police — that they've found the body of one Gunther Bock in eastern Berlin, dressed in the uniform of a Russian army colonel. There were nine others similarly dressed, one of whom is believed to be a former colonel in the Stasi. The data we got from Qati and the other one is confirmed on that side, sir.”
“ Murray, I want an opinion. Are you confident in the confessions?”
“Sir, generally speaking, when we bag these guys they sing like canaries. It's not the Mafia, there's no law of omerta.”
“Thank you, Mr. Murray.” Fowler looked up at Ryan. “Well?”
“Sounds like we got good stuff from them.”
“So, we agree for once.” Fowler punched his SAC button. “General Fremont?”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“How quickly can you re-target a missile? I want to attack a city in Iran.”
“What?”
“I'll let Deputy Director Ryan explain.”
“Those sons-of-bitches.” Fremont spoke for everyone in the room.
“Yes, General, and I intend to get the man who did this, and get him in a way that will send a message that nobody will ever forget. The leader of Iran has committed an act of war against the United States of America. I intend to reply exactly in proportion to his act, I want a missile targeted on Qum. How long will that take?”
“Ten minutes at least, sir, let me, uh, check with my operations people.” CINC-SAC flipped off his microphone switch. “Christ.”
“Pete,” the Deputy Chief of Staff (Operations) said, “the man is right. That fucker almost killed us all — us and the Russians! For profit, for political profit!”
“I don't like it.”
“You have to re-target the bird. I suggest a Minuteman-III out of Minot. The three RVs'll flatten the place. I'll need ten minutes.”
Fremont nodded.
“Mr. President, you can wait.”
“No, I'm not going to wait. Ryan, you know what they did, you know why they did it. It was an act of war —”
“An act of terrorism, sir.”
“State-sponsored terrorism is war — your own position paper from six years ago said that!”
Jack had not known that Fowler'd read it, and being hoist on his own petard came as a surprise. “Well, yes, sir, I did say that, but—”
“That holy man tried to kill — did kill thousands of Americans, and tried to trick us and the Russians into killing two hundred million more! He almost succeeded.”
“Yes, sir, that is also true, but—” Fowler cut him off with a raised hand and continued to speak in the placid voice of a man whose decision had been made.
“It was an act of war. I will reply in kind. That's decided. I'm the President. I'm the Commander-in-Chief. I am the one who evaluates and acts upon the safety and security of the United States. I decide what the military of this country does. This man slaughtered thousands of our citizens, and used a nuclear weapon to do it. I have decided that I will reply in kind. Under the Constitution, that is my right, and my duty.”
“Mr. President,” van Damm spoke. “The American people—”
Fowler's anger appeared, but only briefly. “The American people will demand that I act! But that's not the only reason. I must act. I must reply to this — just to make sure it never happens again!”
“Please think it through, sir.”
“ Arnold, I have.”
Ryan looked over at Pete Connors and Helen D'Agustino. Both concealed their feelings with marvelous skill. The rest of the room approved of Fowler's purpose, and Jack already knew that he was not the one to reason with
