Executive Intent

“I was also going to tell him that we know the Russian military intelligence bureau captured the operative that planted the sensor that discovered the netrusion activity,” Phoenix went on, calmly and very matter-of-factly, “and I was going to warn him that if he didn’t release the operative, the bomber crewmembers, and the Navy rescue swimmer that he captured today immediately, certain powerful nongovernmental groups were going to start destroying Russian bases and ships around the world.”

“What the hell did you say?” Gardner shouted.

“I was also going to tell him that we know he has been conspiring with Premier Zhou of China to neutralize American space and seaborne military systems,” Phoenix went on, “and similar attacks would commence against Chinese assets.”

“Are you insane, Phoenix…?” Gardner shouted. “He’s not going to believe any of this. I don’t believe any of this!”

“It’s true, sir,” Phoenix said. “You can explain it to him, or I can.” He held out his hand for the phone.

Gardner gaped in astonishment, first at Phoenix, then at Kordus, then at the phone, then numbly handed the phone to his vice president. “I can’t friggin’ wait to hear this,” he murmured.

Phoenix took the phone and pressed the “CALL” button. “President Truznyev? This is Vice President Kenneth Phoenix,” he said. “As I just explained to President Gardner, I know about the netrusion attacks against our Kingfisher satellites, the Chinese antisatellite-missile attacks, and Russia shooting down an unarmed rescue helicopter and capturing the bomber crew and rescue swimmer…no, don’t bother denying it, sir, it won’t matter.

“I told the president that I am in contact with certain powerful nongovernmental groups that demand you release the captives immediately,” he went on. He listened for a moment, then interjected: “Sir, I’m not here to debate the matter. This group is already on the move. The first attack will be against the space tracking site on Socotra Island. The entire facility will be destroyed in”-he glanced at his watch-“well, any moment now. The second attack will occur shortly thereafter against your marine detachment in Aden. The third attack will be against the aircraft carrier Putin in the Gulf of Aden and its escort ships. The attacks will continue until the captives arrive unharmed at the American embassy in Sana’a.”

Phoenix listened for a moment to the translator’s words. At that moment Kordus’s cellular phone rang, and he answered it. “President Truznyev, this is not a joke,” Phoenix said. “The group is not under anyone’s control here in the White House, I assure you, including myself…yes, sir, I do know the leader’s name.” Gardner ’s eyes grew wide. “His name…is Patrick S. McLanahan.”

“McLanahan…?”

“Sir, the consulate in Aden reports a massive ground attack at the harbor,” Kordus said excitedly. “They are saying those manned robots, the Cybernetic Infantry Devices, are tearing the Russian marine detachment facility to pieces! And AFRICOM is reporting a massive air attack near the airport on Socotra Island! The place is getting plastered!”

“We have just been advised that the attacks are under way in Yemen, Mr. President,” Phoenix said on the phone. “I would get those captives to the embassy right away before your aircraft carrier is hit.” He paused to listen, then said, “I’m just a messenger here, sir-I have no control over retired general McLanahan.”

Phoenix listened again, then looked directly at President Gardner, put on a slight smile, and said, “No…no, sir, I don’t have a responsibility to stop this, because…I hereby resign as vice president of the United States. I have a duty to uphold the Constitution of the United States and perform my duties under the law, and I find I cannot do either for this president, so I have resigned.” He pulled a letter out of a jacket pocket and dropped it on President Gardner’s desk. “Good day, Mr. President.” And with that, Kenneth Phoenix hung up the phone and walked out of the Oval Office without another word.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

JANUARY 2013

“You are going to be there, aren’t you, Patrick?” Ken Phoenix asked. He was in a limousine driving down Pennsylvania Avenue heading toward Constitution Avenue in the nation’s capital on a surprisingly temperate January morning, talking on a secure cell phone, holding his wife’s hand, his two children watching the sights of the capital from the front of the passenger compartment. “You said you would.”

“I said I might, sir,” Patrick McLanahan corrected him. “But we looked at the situation and decided against it. Sorry. Besides, I think I’m the last guy you’d want to be seen with right now.”

“Nonsense…but I understand,” Phoenix said. “You did say you’d try. How’s Gia?”

“Out of the hospital and right here with me,” Patrick replied.

“And Macomber?”

“Still in the hospital, but if he doesn’t leave the nurses alone, they’re likely to toss him out no matter what the doctors say.”

“Still wish you could be here for this thing, General,” Phoenix said.