Mounting Fears

by Stuart Woods

  The room was silent for a long moment.

  “General Boone,” Will said, “have you had time to do any planning? And if so, do we have the relevant forces available?”

  “Mr. President, we have a detachment of Navy SEALs deployed in the mountains, less than a hundred miles from the missile site.”

  “How many men?”

  “Thirty, plus support people.”

  “Thirty doesn’t sound like many.”

  “There may be no Taliban other than the invading party,” Boone said.

  “But we have no intelligence on the size of that party?”

  “Correct, sir.”

  “Do we know which silos contain the nuclear warheads?” Will asked.

  “No, sir, but the Pakistanis do. So that information should be available to us.”

  “Is it possible, if the SEALs could get into the compound, to destroy the missiles in their silos without setting off a nuclear blast?”

  “Theoretically, sir.”

  “Certainly,” Cabot said, interrupting. “The warheads are wired not to explode in the silos; they are armed by radio after firing.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” the general said.

  “We know for sure,” Cabot replied. “We’ve known since before the missiles were deployed. I would have thought the Pentagon would know it, too.”

  “If we sent a few cruise missiles in there with conventional warheads,” Will asked, “could we knock out the nukes before they could be fired?”

  “In theory,” Cabot said, looking at Boone. “General?”

  Boone turned to the president. “Sir, the site was chosen to make that difficult, with high mountains surrounding it. An air strike would be more vertical—and more precise.”

  “What defenses would the site have against an air attack?” Will asked. “I presume that the surrounding mountains would reduce the effectiveness of radar until the aircraft were right on top of them.”

  “That’s probable, sir,” the general replied. “There are ground-to-air defensive missiles on the site. We don’t know how many.”

  “All right,” Will said. “We need more information. General Boone, I think you should contact your counterpart in the Pakistani army and get a full report on the defensive capabilities of the missile site, and then you should start plans for both an air strike and a ground assault immediately following.”

  “Mr. President, the Pakistanis are probably in a position to make both efforts before we could.”

  “For planning purposes, assume that they can’t or won’t do it in a timely manner,” Will said.

  “You understand, sir, that such a move on our part would constitute an attack on the soil of a friendly nation?”

  “Of course, but I would rather deal with that than with the after-math of a nuclear explosion,” Will said. “Now Madame Director and gentlemen, the vice president and I need the room for a while, and I assume you all would like to speak to your respective headquarters.”

  Everyone stood and filed out, except the president and vice president.

  “Now, George,” Will said, “let’s talk.”

  3

  WILL LOOKED AT HIS VICE PRESIDENT. HE HAD NOT SEEN HIM FOR MORE THAN A week, and he seemed to have lost weight. “How are you, George?” he asked.

  “Will, I’m not well. I’ve had a recurrence of the prostate cancer, and I’m scheduled for surgery this afternoon.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Have they given you a prognosis?”

  “I’m afraid it has already spread. I know this is an awkward time to hear this, but I’m not going to be able to be on the ticket.”

  “George, you warned me when we teamed up four years ago that you would only serve one term, but I had hoped you might change your mind. Your advice on foreign affairs has been invaluable.”

  “Thank you, Will. I appreciate that. As a parting gift, may I give you my assessment of Mohammed Khan during this crisis?”

  “I was going to ask you for that,” Will said.

  “He’s an odd duck—strong in some areas, very weak in others. In the past, he has not performed well under this sort of pressure, not that anyone has ever had this sort of pressure weighing on him.”

  “What do you think he will do?”

  “I think he will be forced to act immediately, perhaps rashly, in order not to appear weak. If he does, given the state of the Pakistani forces, I think he is likely to fail, and if he fails, it’s going to be very bad, and his own military will want his head.”

  “He’s been a good friend to us in a number of ways,” Will said, “but I have to say I concur with your views. My immediate inclination is to send in our aircraft and the SEALs.”

  “That would be my view, as well,” Kiel said, “but it’s a move fraught with risk. We’ve never confronted a situation where a terrorist group has got hold of a nuclear weapon, and now these people have two.”

  “Yes,” Will said. “I’m also inclined to think that this act was extremely well planned and executed, and I expect that they decided what they were going to do with the missiles before they attacked.”

  “I think you’re probably right.”

  “God, I hope we have time to get a grip on it before they move further,” Will said.

  Kiel stood up and offered his hand. “A car is waiting to take me to Walter Reed,” he said. “All I can do now, Will, is to wish you luck.”

  “Thank you, George. Good luck with the surgery and thank you for your exceptional service during our first term. Please give Doris my best, and know that you will be in our prayers.”

  The two men shook hands, and Kiel left.

  Will picked up the phone and asked for Tim Coleman, his chief of staff.

  “Yessir?”

  “Tim, George Kiel is undergoing surgery for prostate cancer today and is out of the campaign. Ask Kitty to coordinate with his press secretary about an announcement.”

  “Sir, you might consider announcing it at the convention.”

  “Maybe. You get together with Kitty, Tom Black, and our leadership in the Congress and come up with some names. We all know who they’re going to be, but it’s important to consult.”

  “Do you have a top candidate in mind?” Tim asked.

  “I’d appoint Sam Meriwether in a heartbeat, but we can’t have both members of the ticket from one county.” Sam Meriwether had been Will’s own congressman before he had won Will’s Senate seat in a special election. He had acted as Will’s campaign manager when he first ran and was this time, as well.

  “Yeah, well . . .” Tim said. “We’ll get on this right away.”

  “I’m going to need some names before I get on that helicopter,” Will said.

  “I wish George had given us more notice.”

  “He didn’t know himself, and, after all, he did tell me he would be around for only the first term.” Will looked down and saw a light flashing on his phone. “I’ve gotta go.” He pressed the button.

  “Mr. President,” the operator said, “I have President Khan of Pakistan for you.”

  “Good. Find everybody who was meeting in the Situation Room and get them back here, please.” He pressed the relevant button. “President Khan?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. I can give you some information now.”

  “Please, go ahead.” He looked up to see Kate and Lance Cabot enter the room. “If you agree, I will put you on speaker, so that my people may hear you.”

  “Yes, please do.”

  The military people were entering the room as Will pressed the speaker button. “Please go ahead, Mr. President,” he said.

  “We estimate a detachment of forty to fifty in the initial assault,” Khan said, “and they appear to be bringing in more people and fortifying the site now. There have been fatalities outside the building, but we have no knowledge of what happened inside. We suspect that the Taliban may have kidnapped two technicians earlier, so they may have launch capabilities.”

  “Excuse me, M
r. President,” Will said, “but doesn’t launching require codes?”

  “Yes. In theory, only I can give the order, but the officer carrying the codes disappeared this morning, and we cannot locate him. We suspect that he may either have been taken by the Taliban or Al Qaeda or be in collusion with them.”

  “Please go on, Mr. President.”

  “I have given the order for an attack,” Khan said, “and assault troops from a nearby base are moving into position as we speak.”

  “Mr. President, do you have shelter available that will withstand a nuclear attack?”

  “I am leaving momentarily for my bunker,” Khan replied.

  “Good. Can you tell us which of the silos contain the nuclear warheads?”

  “I will instruct my military staff to communicate with yours on that subject,” Khan replied. “Now if you will excuse me, I must go.”

  “Good-bye, Mr. President, and good luck,” Will said, but Khan had already hung up. He replaced the receiver and looked around the table. “Who has an update?”

  General Boone spoke. “I have been in touch with the Pakistani military headquarters but was unable to speak with the commanding general. I got a feeling that the place was chaotic.”

  Kate spoke. “Our people on the ground suspect that at least some of the military command may have defected or revolted. A coup may be imminent.”

  “A coup in whose favor?” Will asked.

  “We don’t know,” Kate said, “but Khan, of course, is a figure of hatred for fundamentalist Muslims. If he’s replaced, it’s not going to be with somebody we like.”

  Will turned to Boone. “General, how quickly could we attack the installation if the order were given now?”

  “Given the logistics, not before midnight,” Boone said, “but I’ve already placed the relevant units on alert and ordered the aircraft armed.”

  “Can you begin moving the SEALs closer to the installation?”

  “They’re less than an hour away by helicopter, so they’re better off waiting where they are.”

  “Madame Director, please get in touch with Israeli intelligence. I don’t know if they’re aware of this situation yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t want them jumping into this. Let them know that they’re under no immediate threat. Also, please brief the secretary of state and ask him to call his counterpart in India and tell them what’s happened. It’s possible that Delhi might be a target for these missiles.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.” She got up and left the room.

  “General Boone,” Will said, “what can we do that we haven’t already done?”

  “Militarily, nothing, Mr. President. Politically, well that’s up to you.”

  “Lance, do we have any indication that anyone else knows about this yet?”

  “No, Mr. President, but the lid won’t be on it long, so I suggest we operate as if everybody knows.”

  “I’m not ready to announce this,” Will said.

  “No, sir, and you shouldn’t, but you should be ready to respond to a leak immediately.”

  Will stood up. “All right, I’ll leave you to your work, but I want to be notified of any change, good or bad, in the situation.”

  “Mr. President,” General Boone said, “for the moment, it’s pretty much out of our hands, but we’ll do everything we can to be ready to move.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” Will said. He left the Situation Room for the Oval Office.

  4

  WILL WALKED INTO THE OVAL OFFICE TO FIND TIM COLEMAN, KITTY CONROY, HIS campaign manager Sam Meriwether, his political consultant Tom Black, and the majority leader of the House and the minority leader of the Senate waiting for him. They all rose as he entered.

  “Mr. President,” Tim said, “is there something going on that we should know about?”

  “You’ll be briefed in a few minutes,” Will said. “Now, have a seat and tell me whose names are on your list.”

  Tim began to read. “Senator Charles Watts of Idaho.”

  Will shook his head. “No—Idaho has a Republican governor, and we can’t afford to give up the Senate seat.”

  “Congressman Tad Giddens of Nebraska.”

  “A good man, but green and a little impulsive. I need a grayer head.”

  “Governor Martin Stanton of California.”

  Will said nothing for a moment. “Good one. Who else?”

  “Governor Bobby Breen of Texas.”

  “Two southerners on the ticket isn’t good.”

  “Governor Eleanor Thomas of Oregon.”

  “A woman on the ticket would be a good thing, I think, but only if we believe she could credibly run for president after four years. What do you all think?”

  Kitty Conroy spoke up. “She has a husband who runs his own large manufacturing business, and he isn’t likely to come to Washington with her, which would be a problem for both of them. She has two teenaged children, too, and the girl could be a problem for us. She was arrested on a juvenile drug charge last year. She seems to be improving, but . . .”

  “Who else?”

  “Governor Elliot Sparks of Colorado.”

  “Twice divorced, and a reputation as a womanizer,” Will said. “He’d be a time bomb. Anyone else?”

  “That’s all so far,” Tim said.

  “Marty Stanton is an appealing guy,” Will said, “and he’s finishing his second term as governor. He has an attractive family, grown children, and I think he’d be a serious candidate for president, if I weren’t running, and he has a Mexican mother.”

  “I like him for the job,” Sam said.

  “So do I,” Kitty chipped in.

  The others made positive noises.

  “Any women other than Betty in his life?”

  Tom Black spoke up. “There were rumors about a woman in Los Angeles, before he was governor, but they both denied everything, and nobody had any real evidence. If there’s been anybody since, Stanton has been very, very careful.”

  Will walked to his desk and picked up the phone. “Please find Governor Martin Stanton of California,” he said into the phone, then hung up and looked around. “Last chance to bring up someone else,” he said.

  Nobody spoke. The phone rang, and Will picked it up.

  “Hello? How are you, Marty? . . . I’m glad to hear it. Marty, I’m with Sam Meriwether, Tim Coleman, Kitty Conroy, Tom Black, Congressman Dan Tweed, and Senator Mike Hubbard. I’d like to put you on speaker so everyone can hear you. Here we go.” Will pressed the button. “Can you hear me, Marty?”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “Marty, George Kiel has entered Walter Reed for prostate cancer surgery. The prognosis is unclear, and he’s opted out of the race. All of us here think you’d make a great vice president, and a fine candidate for president in four years, and I’d be deeply honored if you’d accept George’s place on the ticket.”

  Silence.

  “You there, Marty?”

  “Yes, but I’m stunned.”

  “I understand. Would you like to call me back?”

  “May I put you on hold for a moment, Mr. President?”

  “Certainly.”

  There was a click on the line.

  “He’s probably talking with Betty,” Will said.

  “It’s going to be a short conversation,” said Kitty.

  Stanton came back on the line. “Mr. President?”

  “I’m here, Marty. We all are.”

  “I’m very grateful for the opportunity, and I am delighted to accept.”

  “That’s wonderful, Marty. Where are you now?”

  “On my airplane, about two hours out of New York.”

  “Can we meet at the Waldorf Towers”—Will glanced at his watch—“at six o’clock?”

  “Of course, Mr. President.”

  “And you’d better start drafting an acceptance speech. See you at six.” Will hung up. “Well,” he said, “that was easy. Tim, you’d better call the FBI and get them started on the background
check. Tell them I want at least a preliminary report fast.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tim started to leave but ran into Lance Cabot, who was on his way in.

  “Stay, Tim,” Will said. “Lance, anything new?”

  “We’ve got the second wave of the attack on satellite now,” Lance said. “They’re going to be dug in by the time the Pakistani army arrives.”

  “Lance, will you brief everybody here on the situation, please?” Will asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  TEN MINUTES LATER, Lance had finished, leaving his audience nearly speechless.

  “How do you want to handle the announcement?” Kitty asked.

  “Write it, but keep it close. I’d like to wait until after the Pakistani army has finished its raid, unless we’re forced to go sooner.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Who are we going to get to nominate Marty Stanton tonight?” Will asked.

  “The speaker of the House is running the convention, and he’s from California,” Tim said.

  Will nodded and picked up the phone. “Get me the speaker of the House,” he said. “I believe he’s at the Waldorf Towers.” He waited the ten seconds it took for the White House operator to find the man.

  “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “Tank, George Kiel is in surgery and won’t be running. I’ve asked Marty Stanton to replace him.”

  The speaker gave out a low whistle. “I’m sorry about George, but Marty is wonderful news.”

  “I agree, and I don’t want you running for governor; I need you where you are.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’d like you to place his name in nomination before my speech and get a vote by acclamation from the convention.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  “My speech is televised at nine, so get it done by seven-thirty, then give Marty a few minutes for an acceptance speech. He can introduce me.”

  “Sounds good, Mr. President.”

  “I’m meeting with Marty at six at the Towers, and if you’re available, I’d like you to be there.”

  “Of course, Mr. President.”