Selected: A Thriller

by J. Allen Wolfrum

  Mr. Anderson attempted to ease President Tremonov’s fears about the Americans. “Nikolai, I know you’re concerned about the Americans. Trust me, they aren’t moving any troops. Pacific International is involved in every aspect of the American military supply chain. If they were moving troops, I’d know about it.”

  “Then why is the American president reaching out to us? I’ve read the intelligence files and I have no reason to trust her.”

  Mr. Anderson replied, “She’s reaching out to you from a place of weakness. She lost control of the country. She’ll be asking you what you want.”

  President Tremonov frowned and looked to his right.

  Mr. Anderson continued, “This is your opportunity to secure the pipelines and economic prosperity for the Soviet Union. All you need to do is ask.”

  Tremonov locked eyes with Mr. Anderson. He’d spent his career detecting lies as a KGB operative. As strange as it felt to him, Mr. Anderson told the truth. President Tremonov inhaled sharply. “I’ll deal with her.”

  Later that day in Geneva, Susan waited outside the conference room before her meeting with the newly appointed President Tremonov.

  General LeMae pulled Susan aside. “Are you sure about this?”

  Susan gave General LeMae a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

  General LeMae gently put his hand on Susan’s shoulder. “I’m talking about being alone in a room with Tremonov.”

  “I’m fine. What’s he going to do? The Secret Service will be right outside the door.”

  General LeMae angled his body so only Susan could see the right side of his body. He reached into his front pocket and discreetly pulled out his derringer pistol. “Here, take this. Just in case. Better to have it and not need it.”

  Susan grabbed General LeMae’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Curtis, I know you’re worried about me, but I’m fine.”

  A few minutes later, Susan sat in a conference room inside the United Nations building waiting for President Tremonov. The room was rather small—thirty feet by thirty feet square with a small conference table in the middle. Suddenly the door opened and President Tremonov walked into the room. Susan immediately got out of her chair and walked across the room to shake hands with President Tremonov. “President Tremonov, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Tremonov replied, “Madam President, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

  Tremonov shocked Susan with his voice. He spoke perfect English, not a trace of an accent. The combination of Tremonov’s presence and his voice rattled Susan. She felt her right leg begin to tremble. The only way to regain control was to move, so she quickly took her seat across the table. President Tremonov took his seat on the other side of the table.

  President Tremonov’s presence in the room created a threat of violence. Susan had spent her military career with high-ranking officers and government officials; Tremonov brought with him a much more ominous presence. There was not an ounce of nervousness or apprehension in his demeanor.

  Susan began speaking out of fear; the silence was more than she could handle. “I’m very sad to hear about President Rosinski’s death. He was a great man. My deepest apologies.”

  “Thank you,” replied President Tremonov.

  Silence filled the room again. Susan hoped for a bit more depth in the response from President Tremonov. She let the silence linger for as long as possible. “As I said in my message to you, I want there to be peace between our countries. What can I do to help maintain our peaceful relationship?”

  President Tremonov smiled on the inside. Mr. Anderson was right: the Americans were groveling. He calmly folded his hands on top of the table before responding.

  “A Soviet-owned company, Gazprom, is in the process of purchasing the rights to build a pipeline for natural gas and oil from the Ukraine, through Belarus and Latvia. We would like this process to be peaceful. It is an important project that will provide future economic prosperity for our country.”

  Susan leaned slightly forward. “Would you be willing to discuss the project with the leaders of the Ukraine, Latvia, and Belarus? I believe we can come to a peaceful solution that will bring prosperity for everyone involved.”

  President Tremonov showed his first signs of emotion with a smile. “I welcome the opportunity to have an open dialogue.”

  It was not the menacing smile that Susan expected, but a warm, genuine smile of appreciation. Again Susan was thrown off by Tremonov’s behavior. She couldn’t get a read on his true mood or intention. “I’ll make the arrangements for the meeting. Is there anything else you want to discuss?”

  “No, that’s all. Thank you for taking the time to meet.” President Tremonov stood up. Susan pushed back her chair and walked around the corner of the table. She shook hands with President Tremonov and kindly patted his shoulder with her left hand.

  He turned and walked toward the exit. Just before reaching the door, he spun around toward Susan and met her eyes. “I want you to know that we did not have anything to do with the terror attacks.” Before Susan could respond, he opened the door and left the room.

  Immediately afterward, Susan explained the brief and awkward meeting with General LeMae and Senator Reynolds.

  “It was surreal. He said maybe three sentences and the meeting lasted less than five minutes,” explained Susan.

  “It seems like he’s onboard. This could be the beginning of something great,” replied Senator Reynolds.

  General LeMae nodded. “All first dates are awkward. And you’re the first president to meet a Soviet president, face-to-face and alone. Nobody has ever done it.”

  Susan exhaled through her mouth. “Well, it happened. I think we’re in a good place. This is going to work.” She felt a tremendous amount of stress taken off her shoulders. The plan was coming together.

  In his office, Mr. Anderson dialed his chief operations officer. “Pat, how’s it going? It’s Jack Anderson. Go ahead and get Project Goliath started.”

  On the other line, Pat Weller responded, “Did we finally get the go-ahead from the Pentagon?”

  “Yeah, they finally saw the light,” replied Mr. Anderson.

  “Fantastic news! Good work, Jack.”

  “I know we’ve been over the details a hundred times but don’t forget that last set of changes. For the first two weeks, we’re going to be using three times the trucks, and every convoy needs a security detail riding with them. We want to make sure the routes are safe.”

  “Got it, boss. Convoys headed toward the Ukraine, Belarus, and Latvia work sites will start in the morning.”

  45

  The morning after her meeting with President Tremonov, Susan woke up with a mind-numbing hangover. The combination of jet lag and one too many glasses of chardonnay made her nauseous. She staggered to the bathroom and poured herself a glass of water. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and hung her head in disgust. Throughout her life, she’d fought against the bottle. It went in cycles; she could control it for a while, but it always snuck back at the worst possible time.

  Susan washed her face in the sink and took a long drink of water. She fought off the urge to throw up and refilled her glass of water. She found a bottle of hydration tablets in the outside pouch of her suitcase and thumbed one into her glass of water. They were marketed as a quick way for endurance athletes to rehydrate after a workout, but they were even better at easing the pain of a hangover.

  Susan heard a knock on her door. She looked through the peephole and saw a Secret Service agent. She unhooked the chain and opened the door halfway. “What is it?”

  “President Tremonov is requesting to see you immediately. He’s waiting in a conference room downstairs. I counted twenty-three heavily armed security guards with him, and he has the briefcase containing the Soviet nuclear launch codes.”

  Susan closed her eyes and put her hands over her eyes. “What? I just talked with him yesterday.”

  “Madam President, I’m not sure what’s
going on. The only information I have is that President Tremonov has requested your presence downstairs immediately.”

  Susan took a big gulp from her glass of water mixed with the magical hangover cure. “I’ll be right down. I need five minutes to get ready.”

  “When you’re ready, our team will escort you to the conference room.”

  Susan walked back in the room. She still needed to throw up but calling in sick wasn’t an option. She walked into her closet and grabbed a pantsuit from the hanger. She used a quick makeup trick to hide the hangover: a light concealer, eye shadow, and lipstick. She pulled her hair up into a bun and left the room.

  A team of Secret Service agents met Susan in the hallway and escorted her to a conference room on the second floor of the hotel. In the hallway outside the conference room, Susan counted twelve men in black suits with earpieces, all carrying short-barreled AK-47s slung inside their sport jackets.

  One of the Soviet security officers approached Susan with his hands in plain sight. He stopped six feet in front of Susan and her Secret Service agents. He asked with a thick Soviet accent, “Madam President, would you be willing to join President Tremonov in the conference room? He would like to speak with you.”

  Susan took a step forward and the Secret Service agents immediately tightened their circle around her. An agent leaned closer to her and half-whispered, “Madam President, at least take one of us with you. If you go in there alone we can’t protect you.”

  “He wouldn’t dare try anything,” replied Susan. She smiled and gently tapped the shoulder of the agent directly in front of her. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Susan emerged from the circle of her Secret Service agents with a smile on her face and terror in her stomach. The Soviet security agent returned her smile. “Madam President, please follow me.”

  President Tremonov stood just inside the door at the edge of the conference room table. Susan entered the room. Before she could speak, Tremonov pointed to a stack of pictures spread across the table. “Explain these photos.”

  Susan didn’t immediately respond to Tremonov’s statement. She calmly locked eyes with him, then looked down at the photos and picked one up. Susan quickly scanned the picture. It was an aerial photograph of what appeared to be a troop convoy. She scanned a half dozen more of the photos and placed them back on the table.

  “What am I looking at?” asked Susan.

  Tremonov replied with hatred in his eyes. “You’re looking at your last mistake.”

  “Then why are we talking?”

  President Tremonov replied, “I want to know why you’re mobilizing troops and moving toward the Soviet border.”

  “I don’t know what you think is happening, I haven’t ordered any troop movements and I certainly haven’t ordered any troops to move toward the Soviet border.” Susan paused to let her message sink in. “And that image I just looked at… that isn’t a military convoy. It’s a supply chain convoy with scout vehicles that make it look like a military convoy. I’ve spent more time than I care to remember in the cockpit of a Black Hawk staring down at military convoys. And that is not a military convoy.”

  Without missing a beat, Tremonov replied, “Then why was I woken up by Kremlin security with a message that we are at DEFCON 1 and the United States is beginning an invasion?”

  Susan put the photos down on the table. “I have no idea. After the terror attacks, I gave an order to the United States military to stand down for thirty days. There is not currently and there will be no future movement from our military. And whatever is happening in these aerial photographs, I’m stopping it as soon as I leave this room.”

  President Tremonov tightened his jaw, jammed his hands in his pants pockets, and exhaled deeply. “Fine. The Soviet Union is remaining at DEFCON 1. You’ve lost control of your military.” President Tremonov pointed his finger at Susan. “I will not hesitate to launch an attack if there’s another sign of aggression. You can leave now.”

  President Tremonov stopped her before she left. “One more thing you should know.”

  Susan turned around. “Yes.”

  “You’re the only reason I didn’t launch our nuclear arsenal. I trust you. You have the integrity of a true soldier.”

  Susan didn’t know how to interpret President Tremonov’s explanation. She turned and left the room without responding.

  Susan instructed the Secret Service agents to take her to General LeMae’s suite. He was reading the London Times when Susan arrived.

  “What’s going on?” asked General LeMae.

  Susan nodded to the lead Secret Service agent in the room. “Would you mind waiting outside?” When the agents left the room, she debriefed General LeMae on her meeting with President Tremonov.

  “We need to get General Gillingham on the phone. I don’t know what’s happening but something’s wrong. If there are convoys moving around in that area, he’ll know about it. Especially after you pressed him for the daily updates on troop movements.”

  General LeMae grabbed his cell phone and dialed General Gillingham. Susan grabbed his arm to stop him. “Wait, do you think he’s involved?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll keep the questions vague, we’ll find out what he knows.”

  General Gillingham picked up the call. “General Gillingham speaking.”

  “Tom, it’s Curtis LeMae, and I’ve got President Turner sitting next to me. We have a few questions that you might be able to answer.”

  “Fire away,” replied General Gillingham.

  “Do you know anything about the logistics convoys moving near the Soviet border?”

  “I know there’s a plan on the table to deliver humanitarian aid and build shelters in that area. But that isn’t supposed to start for a few months.”

  “Okay, do you happen to know the contractor’s name?” asked General LeMae.

  “It’s through Jack Anderson and Pacific International.”

  Susan and General LeMae exchanged concerned looks.

  Susan leaned toward the phone. “General Gillingham, listen to me. You have got to stop those convoys. I just met with President Tremonov—the Soviet Union just went to DEFCON 1 because he thinks the convoys were American troops invading the Soviet Union.”

  General Gillingham replied, “I don’t even know who’s responsible for the—”

  Susan cut him off before he could backpedal any more. “Then you need to find out. Tremonov is walking around with a team of heavily armed guards and the nuclear launch codes. You need to stop those convoys.”

  The gravity of the situation hit home for General Gillingham. He felt a hollow pit of despair in his stomach and the blood left his face. He tried to cover up for whatever role he might have played in the situation. “It must have been an administrative error. I’ll find out what’s going on and stop the convoys—”

  Susan snapped, “I’m not done. You need to get on the phone with the commanding officer of Landstuhl Air Base in Germany and alert them of the situation. If the Soviets are at DEFCON 1, they are going to increase their air patrols near the border. We need to keep our distance. Do not engage. And do not give them a reason to engage with us. Ground all of our routine security flights.”

  “Yes, Madam President. I’ll update you ASAP on the progress.”

  General LeMae sensed something was wrong and jumped into the conversation. “Tom. I don’t know what Jack Anderson has dragged you into… but you need to put a stop to it.”

  General Gillingham wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. He stayed neutral and noncommittal. “Understood.”

  Susan hung up the phone and put her head in her hands. “We’re an inch away from starting a nuclear war and he’s worried about covering his ass and blaming it on a clerical error.”

  “Yeah, he’s always been a coward. Makes him a great politician. And you know who’s behind this, right?” asked General LeMae.

  Susan responded, “I’m getting the feeling that Pacific Internation
al isn’t just a coincidental player. Does this have anything to do with what you have on that flash drive?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think so. I don’t have all the pieces yet. That snake-in-the-grass, son-of-a-bitch Jack Anderson has been spending way too much time at the Pentagon lately. That can’t be a coincidence,” said General LeMae.

  Susan asked, “How do you know Jack Anderson?”

  General LeMae frowned. “Long and sad story. We were roommates at West Point. He was a hell of a soldier. After his son died—” General LeMae looked down. “Well, let’s just say he changed.” General LeMae shook his head and looked Susan in the eye. “But we’ve got bigger problems.”

  Susan nodded her head. “We need a plan but first I need a shower. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day. Meet back here in forty-five minutes?”

  “All right, I’ll do some more digging on what Pacific International has been up to lately.”

  46

  Susan walked back into her room and collapsed on the couch. The hangover was nowhere near being gone and she needed food. Senator Reynolds knocked on the door. His smile turned cold after seeing the look in Susan’s eyes.

  Susan invited him into her room and quickly rehashed the morning’s events. “Meet me in General LeMae’s room in about forty minutes.”

  Senator Reynolds nodded. “All right, sounds good.”

  After Senator Reynolds left, Susan ordered room service, took a hot shower, and got dressed. She sat on the couch with a few minutes to spare before she needed to be back in General LeMae’s room.

  She grabbed her cell phone and scrolled through her email inbox. She clicked on an email with the subject line “Device #287642—Silence Removed—Automated Recording Transmission” and played the attached audio clip. Susan could barely hear the audio. She turned up the volume and held the speaker to her ear. She listened to the entire ten-minute recording of President Tremonov’s conversations after he left their meeting the day before.

  Before leaving Washington, Susan acquired a stealth listening device from FBI Director Arianna Redmond. The device was designed to stick in the fabric of a suit jacket and disintegrate within two hours. The person wearing the device would never know it was there and it left behind no evidence. Susan didn’t tell anyone about the listening device; there was already too much scrutiny of her meeting with the Soviet president. She didn’t need the additional concern about getting caught placing a bug on him.