Drone

Quinn hoped that the Pearce revelation would be enough to throw Myers out of office and, with any luck, straight into a federal prison. During her election campaign, Myers ran a humiliating campaign ad featuring a Quinn quote that “Guam would capsize if too many U.S. Marines were stationed there” as proof of the idiocy of Congress. Quinn had barely won reelection and privately vowed revenge at the first possible opportunity.

What neither Quinn nor Greyhill realized was that Diele’s source for the Pearce revelation was Ambassador Britnev, and Britnev’s source was Ali, who had tortured it out of Udi just before feeding him to the pigs while he was still alive.

OCTOBER

57

Washington, D.C.

Myers stood alone in the secured media room at the White House, video conferencing with the Kremlin. Not even Strasburg had been allowed into the room with her.

On the other hand, Titov had several advisors in the room with him, including a half dozen scowling generals and admirals with chests full of gleaming service medals. The oldest was Colonel General Petrov, commander of the Strategic Rocket Forces, with enough nuclear ICBMs at his disposal to destroy the United States a dozen times over. Two stern-faced women sat around the long table as well. Even Ambassador Britnev was there, perched on Titov’s left.

“You’ve seen and heard the video and audio files I’ve forwarded to you?” Myers asked. She was referring to the conversation Pearce had secretly recorded with Ali in the Padres luxury suite along with the video recordings that Yamada had made of the Vepr lurking in the gulf. On Pearce’s orders, however, Yamada didn’t pass along to Myers the conversation with the Russian captain.

“Yes, of course.” Titov had a bulldog face but his voice was surprisingly gentle, even calming. His English was excellent as well.

“My intelligence services are analyzing the files now. The first reports are that they are fabrications. Everybody knows how skilled your Hollywood technicians are at manipulating sounds and images. But I am waiting for the final analysis, of course.”

“Mr. Titov, we are far beyond the point of playing games. I’m standing here alone for a reason. As far as I’m concerned, this conversation is completely private. As you can see, none of my advisors are here with me, and I assure you none of them is listening in on this conversation. I have no desire to embarrass you or your government, nor do I wish to provoke a war with you. But the actions you have taken against my government are, in fact, acts of aggression, and I will not stand for them.”

Titov turned his head slightly to the general sitting next to him and grinned. The general whispered something to Titov that made Titov chuckle, and that set off a chain reaction of controlled laughter.

“Forgive me, Mr. President, but my Russian is terrible. Do you mind letting me in on the joke?”

“My colleague, Colonel General Petrov, said that you remind him of his ex-wife, a very unpleasant lady. Beyond that, I do not wish to repeat.”

Again, the Russians rumbled with laughter, including the women.

Myers smiled. “Perhaps the old missile general had an unhappy wife because his rocket was no longer able to launch.”

The old general’s face turned beet red. The Russians instantly roared with laughter, Titov most of all. Myers was alone in the room but she had been thoroughly briefed on the Russian high command.

“Forgive me, Madame President,” Titov said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I have clearly underestimated you.”

“In more ways than you can possibly know, Mr. President.”

That sobered him up.

“Then let us be frank. What is the purpose of this pleasant chat? To discuss the electronic fictions you have sent to us?” Titov asked.

“We are far beyond discussions, Mr. President. Here is my proposal. In twenty-four hours, you will announce to the world that your cross-border antiterror operations in Azerbaijan have been a success and that you will begin withdrawing your forces within seventy-two hours, abandoning the country entirely within seven days. My government will publicly commend you for your decision to withdraw, and privately you will negotiate with the Azerbaijanis over monetary compensation for the damages you have caused that nation.”

Titov glowered at Myers. “And why would we do such a thing? Because you simply order it?”

Myers pressed a button on her console. A live feed appeared as a picture within a picture on both of their screens. It showed a giant steel pipeline.

“Do you recognize this, Mr. Titov?”

“It looks like an oil pipeline.”

“It is. It’s the BTC pipeline. As I’m sure you know, it’s over a thousand miles long and pumps a million gallons of oil per day from Baku all the way to the Mediterranean. Right now, it’s the only viable means you have of transporting all of that Azeri oil you’re stealing out of the Caspian Sea into the European markets.”

Titov’s advisors murmured among themselves.