Commander Sykes remained at the podium.
“What do you think, Stoney?” Coyote asked.
“Damn. Hard to know what to think. Looks like Washington just dropped us into another war zone. I’m beginning to get the feeling that they want to get rid of us.”
“Captain Magruder?” Sykes called. “Can I talk to you for a moment, sir?”
“Catch you later, CAG,” Coyote said.
“Yeah,” Tombstone turned as Sykes approached. “What can I do for you?”
“Admiral Tarrant wanted me to ask if you wanted to go ashore with him.”
Tombstone raised his eyebrows. “Ashore? What-“
Sykes grinned at his evident confusion. “The admiral will be going into the Crimea to receive Boychenko’s surrender, of course. Yalta, to be specific. Wonderful symbolism there, you know. He’ll be sending me and some of his staff officers in ahead, to lay the groundwork, as it were.”
“Go on.”
“He told me to ask if you’d like to ride along.”
“Did he say why?” Tombstone was genuinely puzzled. Admirals generally didn’t ask captains if they wanted to do something or not. “I’m not much of a diplomat, Commander. And I have an air wing to run.”
“Of course. And this is rather irregular, I admit. But, you see, Admiral Tarrant is concerned about the view the American press will be taking in regard to the Navy. There was the sinking of that Russian sub. Then the helicopter shoot-down. Now the press will be wondering just what we’re doing here, and if we can handle the job.”
“I’d been wondering about that myself, actually.”
“Aren’t we all? But the news people are going to be flocking around the admiral’s staff as soon as they hit the beach. Admiral Tarrant would like you to be his special liaison with the media, as it were.”
Tombstone opened his mouth to give a sharp retort, then closed it again.
Damn it, why the back-door approach? “if the admiral wants me to do this, why doesn’t he-“
“Order you himself Of course. This is strictly a volunteer assignment, Captain. And very much off the record.”
Tombstone shook his head. “Damn it, Commander. Maybe I’m dense or something today. But I don’t understand.”
“There were two ACN personnel on that UN flight the other day, a reporter and his cameraman. He filed a story about the incident, of course.”
“Of course.”
“American Cable News evidently decided to follow things up with one of their top people. Ever hear of a news anchor named Pamela Drake?”
Tombstone’s mouth gaped open. Pamela!..
“Anyway, the admiral seems to think you might have some influence with the woman. She’s coming here to-“
“What? Pamela is coming here?”
“To Sevastopol. Yes. With a crew. Admiral Tarrant thought you might be able to field her tough questions. Again, it’s volunteer only. But…”
“Of course, of course,” Tombstone said. He was dazed. Pamela, here!
“Then I’ll tell the admiral it’s settled. The staff group will be assembling to go ashore tomorrow afternoon. You’ll want to have some things packed.” But Tombstone scarcely heard him. Pamela was coming here!
CHAPTER 13
“All is in readiness, Comrade Vitse-Admiral.”
Dmitriev looked up from the papers on his desk. Starshiy-Leytenant Kulagin was not looking at him but remained fixed at attention, his eyes locked on a spot on the wood paneling somewhere behind Dmitriev’s left shoulder.
“Excellent,” Dmitriev replied. “The crews have been briefed on what they are to do?”
“Yes, sir.” He sounded almost bitter. “Though it was… difficult finding volunteers.”
“We expected as much.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I suspect that what you mean is that it was difficult finding volunteers loyal to me, rather than to General Boychenko.”
“Actually, sir, the majority of the naval personnel opted to follow you.
The army, of course, is loyal to the general almost to a man. Putting together so many pilots who could be trusted was the most difficult part.”
“That, too, was expected. When the Ukrainians come, the fleet, at least, would be able to retire to Novorossiysk, while aircraft could simply fly out.”
“Yes, sir. The army would be forced to remain in this, this trap.”
Dmitriev sighed. “Anton Ivanovich, there are many kinds of trap. Some are more subtle than others. What I do, I do first out of loyalty to the Rodina, then out of respect for the oath that I took as a Russian officer. That, in a sense, is the trap that holds me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kulagin was retreating once more behind the unreadable facade of the mindless subordinate, attempting to mask his own thoughts. Dmitriev leaned back in his chair, studying his aide. “You don’t approve of this plan, do you?”
“Sir, it is not my place to-“
“Talk to me, Anton Ivanovich. I need to know what you are thinking.” He nodded toward the window, and the ships gathered in the harbor. “What they are thinking.”
“Sir…” He stopped, and the stiffness of his posture relaxed a bit as he moved his hands helplessly at his sides. “Sir, there are those within your command who see this as a desperate gamble, as something very much like deliberate suicide. Suppose this operation gets us into a general war with the United States? We could find ourselves fighting Leonov’s rebels, the Ukrainians, the Turks, and the Americans all at the same time!”
“The Americans will not go to war over this, Anton. It will be in their interests to resolve this matter peacefully.”
“How can anyone make predictions about what their government will or will not do, sir? Cowboy diplomacy-“
“Their president is in considerable trouble because of his foreign policy just now.” He chuckled. “Or perhaps I should say he is in trouble because of his lack of anything like a coherent foreign policy. He will not risk a war with us, because that would deepen his problems with the American electorate, which is notoriously isolationist.”
“Well, then, the Turks-“
“Will allow things to be smoothed over. They need us to solve their problems with their Armenian minority more than we need them. When our representatives have quietly explained why we were forced to do what we did, they will understand and accept it. A war with us would not serve their best interests, either.”
“Wars rarely serve anyone’s best interests, Comrade Vice-Admiral.
Except, of course, for the arms manufacturers and the politicians.”
“Why, Anton! You have the true Russian’s soul of the poet!”
“You told me to speak freely, sir. I am. It could be that those members of your command who disagree with your plan see General Boychenko’s initiative as their only real hope for survival.”
“I see. And how do you feel about it?”
