Commander-In-Chief Page 27

  When he did not, in fact, respond, Molchanova cleared her throat. “And what is your response, Mr. President?”

  A wider smile. “Perhaps it is out there. Perhaps it is not.”

  “Do you mean a submarine in general or, like the Americans allege, the Knyaz Oleg?”

  “The Americans should pat themselves on the back. They are correct in their determination that the Knyaz Oleg is fully operational and now part of Russia’s Northern Fleet. Whether it is in the Atlantic, in the Pacific, or patrolling the waters on Jack Ryan’s bathtub . . . this is something I will not reveal.”

  “Of course,” Tatiana said, and she looked down at her next card.

  “Unless you twist my arm,” Volodin added.

  Molchanova glanced back up. She was a little confused about what she should say next, but Volodin’s testiness in some of their recent encounters was nowhere to be seen now, so she relaxed a little.

  “Our viewers always appreciate your candor, when you are able to be candid, that is.”

  “I will be very candid. It is very possible that one of our newest, greatest, and technologically superior submarines is, at this moment, in international waters, operating peacefully and within all maritime and international norms and limits . . . in the backyard of the United States of America.”

  Volodin grinned.

  Molchanova was stunned, and she struggled for both elucidation and closure of this topic. “If the Americans are correct that it is out there, on its way across the Atlantic, can you say what the purpose of such a mission would be?”

  Volodin shrugged, leaned forward. “Pokazuka.” Just for show. He reached out and touched Tatiana Molchanova’s exposed knee, taking the hem of her skirt and pulling it down a little to cover it. It was an odd gesture, almost fatherly in a way that made it even creepier. Despite her years of experience, Molchanova was utterly taken aback. She struggled for something to say, but Volodin did not need her to say anything. He barely needed her in the room.

  The audience was watching him, not her.

  Molchanova remembered his direction to her and recovered quickly. “I wonder if you can tell the viewers, both here in Russia, as well as our large Russian-speaking audience all over the near abroad, how we can ensure the safety of our young service people who are stationed in the enclave of Kaliningrad Oblast, in light of the attack on the troop transport train passing through Vilnius last week?”

  She saw from his look at her that she had pleased him by asking this question at this time, and she felt a wash of relief come over her.

  He said, “I like you very much, Miss Molchanova, so I will use the opportunity of your news program tonight to make an announcement that I would normally make from my desk at the Kremlin. It is that important.”

  She just nodded, urging him on.

  “Our prosecutor general’s office has been loyally going through old cases for a number of years now, at my direction. Cases of theft, I am speaking of. I have long been concerned about things that may have been stolen from the Russian people—from your viewers, in fact.”

  Molchanova was good, but she wasn’t used to working without a net. She had no idea what the hell the president was talking about now. Criminal matters in Russia?

  “What . . . what things?”

  “In the latter days of the Soviet Union, decrees and decisions were made without respect to the Russian people. One must distinguish Russia, the nation, from the Soviet Union, the amalgamation of nations.”

  “Da,” Molchanova replied, only because Volodin looked at her in a way that told her a reply was demanded of her.

  He continued. “The Baltic is an interesting case, I have always thought. This was land the Soviet Union won from the Nazis, on the backs of the Russian people. Russia bore the brunt of that war. Russia. Despite the fact the Soviet Union was the organizing body during the war, Russians fought, died, and earned the land of the Baltic through blood.

  “The Soviet Union was acting illegally when it recognized Baltic independence in 1991, as at this time, the Soviet Union was an unconstitutional body. This land won by Russia, through a decree by an illegal body, was permitted to leave Russia’s area of influence. Everyone knows contracts signed by someone unauthorized to sign said contract are deemed immediately null and void.”

  “But . . . what does—”

  “The prosecutor has not been directed by me at all, although I have long felt the Baltic States should never have been granted release from our influence. Of course, he will do his work and look into all the details, the documents, the signatures, but in light of what has happened in Vilnius last week with the death of so many young, brave Russians, I encourage him to work diligently and quickly. There is no time to waste.

  “Assuming he does, in fact, determine the recognition of independence was an illegal act, this will open the doors for Russia to revive the corridor between our friends and neighbors Belarus and Russia’s enclave of Kaliningrad. Lithuania is situated in the way of the safety of Russia’s commerce with itself, and if we need to ensure the corridor is protected from danger, we will do just that.”

  Molchanova’s eyebrows were almost touching, so confused was she by what she was hearing.

  But Volodin beamed as he spoke. “I have just today spoken with our wonderful friend and partner President Semyonov of Belarus, and explained to him the situation. He has promised his full cooperation with the results of the prosecutor’s office. If we need to reopen the corridor through Lithuania, Belarus will support us in that endeavor.”

  Molchanova sat in awe now, staring at her president. He smiled at her, a cocked smile, almost a smirk of self-satisfaction. Like a chess champion who just declared checkmate.

  She broke out of her stupor quickly, shrugged a little, almost apologizing for stating the obvious. “Yes. But . . . the Lithuanian government, it can be assumed, will not just let Russians enter their country and take the territory between Belarus and Kaliningrad.”

  Valeri Volodin’s smile did not waver. “Tanks don’t need visas, Miss Molchanova.”

  36

  It was just before noon in Washington, D.C., and in the conference room off the Oval Office, a dozen men and women watched the live transmission of the Russian president’s interview on a large monitor. The volume was turned down, and a running translation came from a pair of interpreters sitting with their headphones on at the far end of the table. Helpfully for all, the female translator gave a running commentary for the female reporter, and the male translated the words of Valeri Volodin.

  Jack Ryan was there in the room, along with several of his national security staff. They listened to every word in silence.

  When it was over, all eyes turned to the President of the United States.

  “‘Tanks don’t need visas,’” he said, a tone of resignation in his voice. “The president of Russia just declared the nations of the Baltic illegal states, and he all but promised to invade and take the corridor to Kaliningrad, at the very least.”

  Mary Pat said, “Which, by the way, goes right through Vilnius, the capital city and the largest city in Lithuania, and Kaunas, the second-largest city in the nation.”

  Arnie Van Damm wasn’t part of the President’s National Security team, but he almost always sat in on these meetings for the very simple fact that he ruled the roost of the President’s schedule, and national security issues required adjustments to this schedule. But although he was usually in the room when this group had their discussions, he rarely ever spoke unless Ryan’s schedule was in question.

  Which meant every head in the room turned when he spoke now.

  “You know . . . it’s remarkable. It’s brilliant, really.”

  Jack Ryan said, “What’s brilliant, Arnie?”

  “At the beginning of the interview, when he blamed the Swedish commercial flight for murdering eleven poor innocent Russian a
irmen who were just minding their own business. Then he switched gears and cast doubt on the official stories about the explosion in Klaipėda and the attack in Vilnius. But what if Russia was behind these two things? Obviously, he’d be involved with it, or at least know about it, and he would know the cover story set up by his minions.”

  “Right,” Ryan said.

  “And then he goes on national TV and says he doesn’t believe the official stories, which are actually his cover stories.”

  Ryan nodded thoughtfully. “There is a depth to his scheme, isn’t there? Again, assuming these things to be the case.”

  Secretary of State Scott Adler slowly leaned back in his chair. “How do we even respond to his comment about Lithuania?”

  Before anyone could answer, Bob Burgess entered the conference room and looked to President Ryan. He offered no deference to any of the cabinet members, however, because he had something he needed to say. “Pardon me, Mr. President. While Volodin was speaking, a Twitter account belonging to Russia’s Western Military District announced a snap drill in Belarus in three days, involving Russia’s Sixth Army. Not a lot of specifics, but if it is like other drills in that area, they will move some land and air units to staging facilities west of Minsk, work with the Belarusan military for a few days, and then pull out. They say it’s to test emergency operational readiness for both forces in the case of an attack from a Central European nation.”

  “Right,” said Scott Adler. “In case Lithuania or Latvia begin a push toward Moscow.” The sarcasm in his comment was obvious.

  Burgess said, “They’ll put a useful mix of front-line forces close enough to Poland and Lithuania to represent an immediate threat to both nations. Of course, they already have troops in Kaliningrad, too, but they’ll move them out of garrison and put them in predeployment points, exactly as they would do if they were coming over the border. All totaled, their snap drills involve somewhere around fifty thousand troops.”

  “And Lithuania has how many troops in total?”

  “Including their ready reserve . . . twelve thousand.”

  “Christ.” Ryan turned to Mary Pat. “What’s your take on this?”

  “They’ve done snap drills a half-dozen times in the past decade, so it’s not terribly threatening in itself. Still, the timing is . . . provocative, and that’s a word that I’ve all but stopped using when speaking of Volodin’s actions, because it has lost all its meaning and context.”

  Burgess said, “Mr. President, this might well be a drill and not the precursor to an invasion, but if it is an invasion, if we don’t move NATO forces into Lithuania, right now, there will be no way whatsoever that we can stop an invasion.”

  Ryan said, “NATO’s Very High Readiness Joint Task Force needs to move before the invasion starts?”

  “Yes, sir. Without a doubt. Otherwise, Russia will own Vilnius before the first NATO troops get into Lithuanian airspace.”

  Ryan thought it over, then he addressed Scott Adler. “Scott, how do we get NATO to move on this?”

  The secretary of state said, “Since there has been no Article Five violation yet, it will take a consensus of the member states. And since the summit is already kicking off the day after tomorrow anyway, the Lithuanian president, as the threatened NATO member, can call an emergency session at the beginning of the summit. She can make her case to move NATO High Readiness units into her country, and then the other member states will have to agree.”

  Ryan nodded. “Okay. I’ll call President Banytė as soon as we’re finished here and encourage her to request an emergency session for the day after tomorrow.”

  Burgess said, “If the NATO forces can get there in time, it will provide a helpful tripwire. Hopefully that will encourage Volodin to keep his forces on the Belarusan and Kaliningrad sides of the border. But realistically, Mr. President, the VHRJTF is not strong enough to repel fifty thousand Russian troops.”

  Ryan knew this already. “We need to be ready to help them out. You mentioned the battalion of Marines we have in Romania.”

  “The Black Sea Rotational Force. Right now it’s the 3rd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, of the 1st Marine Infantry Division.”

  Ryan, a former Marine, leaned back in his chair. “Darkhorse.”

  “Correct, sir. The Darkhorse Battalion. One thousand two hundred of the best Marines in the Corps, and they can be ready to move in days.”

  Ryan said, “Give the Black Sea Rotational Force a heads-up now, but quietly. Very quietly. If the other NATO member states find out we’re ready to do an end run around and throw non-NATO forces into the gap, that might complicate things before the emergency meeting.”

  “I understand,” said Burgess. “I’ll talk directly to the Marine Corps commandant, as well as Lieutenant General Blanchard, the commander of MARFOREUR. That’s Marine Forces Europe. He is based in Germany, and he’s the commander of all Marine forces in theater. Lithuania is his battle space, and he will be the one who is tasked with deploying them effectively.”

  “Good,” Ryan said, then looked back to the others in the room. “Now, we’re not done yet. I think there is still a chance, a good chance, that Valeri Volodin is just escalating things here as a bluff. He wants to see NATO back down so he can move into Lithuania without firing a shot. So we need to be able to identify the difference between a legit drill and the precursors to an invasion.”

  Mary Pat Foley said, “We have methods, Mr. President. One thing we’ll do on our end is have the DIA and CIA take a look at specific military personalities in Russia, to see if we can figure out where they are.”

  Ryan cocked his head. “Explain.”

  Mary Pat looked to SecDef Burgess. “Bob?”

  Burgess said, “I know off the top of my head of three Russian Army generals who I guarantee will be involved in any invasion of any former satellite. These are their go-to guys. They were in Georgia, in Estonia, and they were in Ukraine. The oldest was also a company commander in Chechnya, and a battalion commander in Dagestan. These generals’ physical proximity to a border region can spell trouble. Of course, the Russians are smart, so they move these gents around, just to keep us guessing. But if we can get intel on their location, and we find out they are not in Belarus or Kaliningrad, then my concern about an invasion will go down precipitously.”

  Ryan summarized this. “So if they show up in Minsk, that doesn’t necessarily mean there will be an invasion, but if they are back in Moscow or in three different parts of the country to the east, an invasion probably won’t be coming anytime soon.”

  Mary Pat said, “That’s the way we see it. We’ll work hard to fix their positions in the next few days.”

  The meeting broke up and Ryan returned through his secretary’s office into his own. Arnie Van Damm followed in behind him, looking down at his mobile phone as he walked.

  Ryan turned around inside the Oval. “You need something, Arnie?”

  The chief of staff chuckled aloud. “You’ll love this. The Russian embassy here just relayed a request from New Russia Television. That’s Channel Seven over there. They are asking for fifteen minutes for a sit-down interview with you while you are in Copenhagen.”

  Ryan was surprised. “Really?”

  “They pledge to not edit your comments.” He sniffed. “You know it will be a total hit job.”

  Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Mexico City was a hit job, Arnie. This is a TV interview.” He was referring to the assassination attempt against him, a bit of a gallows-humor joke.

  If it had been anyone other than Van Damm, Ryan’s comment would have mortified them, turned them white with embarrassment, thinking they had offended the President. But Arnie just rolled his eyes and clarified. “Cute, Jack. You know what I mean. They will come at you hard, try to misrepresent what you say.”

  Ryan said, “Hell, all those presidential debates I had to endure during the campaigns
should have taught me how to take on a tough interviewer.”

  Van Damm kept reading the e-mail, then he said, “One perk to it, though. Tatiana Molchanova will be the one conducting the interview.”

  Ryan replied sarcastically, “Sorry, Arnie, but I’ve been slacking. I haven’t been watching as much Channel Seven as I should. I don’t know their on-air personalities.”

  Arnie said, “You just watched her interview Volodin. An eleven on a scale of ten in beauty, brains, and the amount of Kremlin Kool-Aid she’s drinking.”

  “Oh . . . her.”

  Van Damm said, “I’ll tell them no.”

  “Tell them yes.”

  Arnie was taken aback. “You’re kidding, right? There is nothing to gain by following their format for a sit-down interview.”

  “I want to communicate directly with the Russian people. I’ll give her fifteen minutes, and I’ll be on my best behavior.” After an incredulous look from his chief of staff, Ryan said, “Think about it, Arnie. Volodin has been on every American network multiple times. You can’t get that guy to shut up. And what Volodin just said to his people was absolute insanity; he’s driving them headlong toward war and pinning it on the West. I know I can’t get my message to them unless I offer their state-backed TV exactly what they want.” He shrugged. “I owe it to the process to give this a shot, Arnie.”

  Van Damm said, “I don’t like this, boss.”

  Ryan smiled a little. “Put me in, coach. Give me a chance.”

  Van Damm chuckled. He stood to leave the Oval and, while doing so, began to type a message on his phone. “I’m about to surprise the hell out of some producer in Moscow, because nobody over there seriously thought you’d accept this invitation.”

  Ryan headed for his desk. He called out to Arnie as he left the room. “The big surprise in Copenhagen will be if I manage to convince twenty-six member states to predeploy forces in Lithuania before Russia invades.”