“Well, sometimes I just get so frustrated, I surf the internet looking for some item, some comment, anything from that part of the world. But all I can find is reports from Almaty and Astana.”
“Almaty and Astana?” Angels asked.
“Those are the two major cities. They have tons of news stories about the test, or whatever it was. But nothing about the reaction. Nothing about the people.”
“Maybe the Mossad can find them,” Angela quipped.
“Get serious!”
“I am serious. They always know everything. At least over in that part of the world. I mean, isn’t Kazakhstan near Iran?”
“Well, yes,” Samantha said cautiously. “Are you saying we should be working with the Israelis on this?”
“Have you got a better idea?”
Did she have a better idea? Did she have any ideas at all? Admitting that she was bereft of them was a truly sobering moment. “Uh, not exactly.”
“Don’t sit there and sound like an old Hertz commercial,” Angela said. “Let’s try to think of something. Some way to break through this ‘Silence of the Lambs’.”
“I just hope that when we finally do break through, we don’t find out it was a slaughter instead.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
NAPLES, FLORIDA
“Pretty warm day. Suppose we could stop for ice cream somewhere?” Jayson Keller asked his political director.
“Sure. There’s a little place down on Fifth Avenue, Max Federman answered. “Advance guys have it on their list. Guess they stopped there when they were setting up the trip. It’ll mean a USR though.”
“Unexpected Stop En Route,” The vice president mumbled. “I know. But in a little town like this, I can’t imagine the Secret Service is going to get upset. Just tell the driver.”
They drove down the street lined with palm trees where tourists were strolling by eying summer sales of bathing suits and straw hats. Couples were clustered at little tables outside Starbucks, sipping their Frappuccinos and reading the local paper while a brilliant sun sat high in a bright blue sky. The motorcade pulled up in front of a little shop across from Pazzo’s Italian Restaurant. Jay left his sport coat in the car, rolled up the sleeves of his blue and white striped shirt and put on a broad smile. Here in Florida, he wanted to project a casual, friendly style, especially since the press bus was right behind them. The bus pulled up and a gang of reporters and photographers scrambled to get off, dragging their cameras with them. Jay and Max, flanked by several members of the Secret Service, strode into the store where a hand full of customers exclaimed, “It’s the vice president!”
“Oh my gosh, isn’t he handsome!”
“Will you sign my tee-shirt?
“Can I get a picture?”
“Can I have your autograph?”
“Me first,” a little girl in pink shorts and a white shirt with a picture of a flamingo on it cried out, pushing toward him.
Jay looked around to see if any of the photographers were in place. They were. So he motioned to the child’s mother who nodded her approval. He picked up the child, patting her head. She squealed with delight as he asked, “And what kind of ice cream do you think I should get?”
“Bubble gum!”
A young boy, shouted, “Nah, rocky road is better.”
“Should I get rocky road?” Jay murmured to Max.
“Uh uh. Might be a metaphor for your campaign.” He scanned the list of flavors up on a board and suggested, “There’s one called Smooth Sailing.” Max asked the proprietor to give the VP two scoops on a sugar cone. He offered it to his boss.
“What’s in it? It’s blue,” the vice president asked in a whisper, gently setting the child back down and reaching for his pen to autograph a post card her mother thrust into the little girl’s hand.
“Doesn’t matter. Just eat it,” Max said with a grin. “Press is focusing.” He checked his watch, paid for the ice cream and tried to usher their entourage out of the now crowded store. “Have to get to the event,” he called to the crowd. He pointed to the photographers nudging each other for a better angle. “Okay guys. Time to get back to the bus or we’ll be late to the fund-raiser.”
After piling back into their limousine, the driver headed down Fifth Avenue toward the Gulf, turned left on Second Street and drove south. As they approached an area called Port Royal, the houses became larger and more luxurious. Some were a Bermuda style, others had more of a Mediterranean look. One on the right way back off the road in a Japanese garden was a home of Asian design set amongst banyan trees and a series of small bridges crossing meandering ponds. They continued past a wrought iron gate with a small sign that announced The Port Royal Club, Members Only, and then passed a huge stone house with its own guard shack. “Looks like we’ll hit the jackpot in this neighborhood,” Max said, peering out the window “Place looks bigger than the West Wing.”
“West Wing’s not that big,” Jay said. “But you’re right. If this event turns out as they billed it, we should be raising a good deal of cash on this trip. Better than the take up in Tampa. And for a little beach town, that’s amazing.”
Max dug in his pocket for his own copy of the speech notes. “You still gonna stick to the economy on this one?”
“Yes. But I’m going to add a bit on national security. What with the tensions between Russia and Kazakhstan, this will be a good time to get a decent sound bite out there about our sanctions policy.”
“Do you really think these people give a rat’s ass about Kazakhstan?”
“Doesn’t matter. The national press will pick up on it, and we have to look tough on the whole nuclear testing issue. Besides, the UN isn’t doing diddley-squat on sanctions, at least not yet. We have to look like we’re on top of things. Back in charge. Not like the previous administration that wasted years in negotiations that went nowhere.”
“I guess you gotta a point there,” Max said.
“I’ll tell them that we’re working to build a coalition and all of that. But in the meantime, we’re putting plans together to possibly freeze some of their assets and see if that doesn’t bring them around, at least so they’ll let the inspectors into their nuclear facilities.”
“Yeah. I guess that’ll play.” Max looked through the window again and saw a guy jogging while dialing his cell phone. “Good luck with that, fella.”
Jay looked over and saw the jogger staring at his phone. “Guess he doesn’t realize that we jam all the cell signals when the motorcade goes by.”
“Course not. We never announce that. But ever since that freak in Jersey tried to set off a bomb near the president’s motorcade using a cell phone, it’s been mandatory.”
“Well, I know that. I’m just sorry if we have to inconvenience any potential voters,” Jay said waving out the window at the guy. The jogger smiled and waved back. “He’ll get his signal back in a few minutes.”
“And in a few minutes, we’ll be at the house. Wait till you see it. Right on the Gulf with its own beach, guest house, about 40,000 square feet. Pretty decent piece of real estate,” Max said.
“By the way, anything new on that EMP thing over by the Caspian? There wasn’t anything in my morning brief.”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“Well, what about Samantha Reid?”
“What about her,” Max asked cautiously.
“She’s the one who raised that issue in the first place, and Ken told me that her father and some guy she’s been dating might be over there. Pretty tough on her if nobody can find out anything.”
“Uh, yeah. I guess you’re right. Haven’t had a chance to talk to her lately.”
“Well, when we get back, make it a point to make nice. I know she’s been a bit of a trouble maker in the past. But she’s damn smart, and if we can win the election, we just might be able to use her in my administration.”
Max held his tongue. Didn’t want to differ with the boss, but having Samantha Reid around in the new White House, one
where he was hoping to snag the job of chief of staff, just wasn’t in his own master plan.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
THE ARAL SEA, KAZAKHSTAN
“What happened to this place? Looks like a moonscape or something.” Tripp asked the driver as they followed a road along the edge of the Aral Sea.
“Talk about contamination. This used to be the fourth largest sea, lake, whatever you want to call it. But some time back the Soviets redirected the rivers that flow into it. Some sort of central planning disaster, I guess. Anyway, lots of stuff got dumped into it too, and over time it shrank about 90%. A little’s coming back. But it’s slow.”
“Geez. What a waste. I mean there’s some water, sure. But look at those old hulks.” Tripp pointed out to where two rotting boats looked like they were stuck in the rocky terrain.
“Yeah. When the water went down, there were a bunch of boats that ran aground and could never get out. So they let them sit there for years.”
It almost seemed like years that they had been traveling on everything from highways to goat paths. They had been careful to ration their water but they had run out of sandwiches. They had seen a lot of apple trees along the way and had stopped to pick a bunch. He had eaten so many apples he didn’t want to see another fritter or a pie for a long, long time.
Tripp had been worrying that they would run out of fuel. They had filled up as many cans and bottles as they could find, siphoning it out of the stalled trucks at the camp when the other guys weren’t looking. They figured the company would send some rescue teams for the workers, so they didn’t feel too guilty about it. Jake’s body had provided another challenge. It was wrapped up in a lot of plastic sheeting, and they had put water bottles around it. That didn’t do much to keep it cool, though. So they had him hunched down in the back seat and with the air conditioning on. At least that had kept the inside a decent temperature. That is until those goons had shot out the back window.
Tripp thought Bill would complain about sitting next to a body for days and days, but he never said a word. Turned out to be a pretty decent guy considering they had commandeered his precious antique Buick. Tripp wasn’t sure if a 60’s Buick would be considered an antique, but he didn’t care. The fact that it didn’t have any new electronic systems on it, meant it was the perfect escape car.
He didn’t know what they would have done without the old relic. It was the first time in his life that he envied something that Cuba had. A supply of nothing but old cars. As they drove along, he kept thinking about Jake and Samantha. He had spent the last many hours rehearsing in his mind what he would tell her about Jake’s heart attack, how he would describe the bomb blast, the shock of seeing him keel over, how they had tried to revive him, how he had finally given up. Could he really describe all of that? Would she listen? Would she understand? At this point, he didn’t have a clue.
The driver ran over what must have been a rock and cursed. “All we need right now is a flat tire. We’ve come this far. I just hope it doesn’t blow.”
Tripp peered out the front windshield and exclaimed, “Hey look. Is that civilization up ahead? Looks like some low buildings or something. Haven’t seen anything but yurts up till now.”
Bill called from the back seat. “What’s the name of the city or village or whatever you said it was?”
“It’s called Akespe. Some time back the World Bank built a dam, so they put in some temporary housing for the workers. Probably still around. I suppose there might be a thousand people living in the town. We can finally get some decent food. Well, it might not be so decent, but it’ll be a damn sight better than apples.”
“Yeah,” Bill said. “Guess they don’t have any 7-Elevens around here.”
“In your dreams,” the driver said. “But we can probably find a place to pick up some pork or mutton. And wait’ll you taste the stuff they drink.”
“I thought they drank a lot of green tea, that sort of thing,” Tripp said.
“Out here it’s fermented mare’s milk.”
“Horse milk?” Bill asked.
“You got it,” the driver said. “Get ready, it tastes like a combination of champagne and dirty sweat sox.”
“How tempting,” Tripp said. “I’ll stick with the tea, if we can find some”
“Looks like some mines or something over there,” Bill said, pointing out the side window. “Way out there. See?”
“Yeah, it isn’t just oil and gas here. They’ve got some gold and uranium too.”
“Maybe this is where they get the uranium for their nuclear weapons,” Tripp said as he pulled out his cell phone and tried to switch it on. He stared at the small screen and called out, “Still no signal. Guess they haven’t got any cell towers in this part of the world.”
“Not out here. There are parts of the country that are pretty up to date. Well, you were in Almaty. You know that. Got everything over there. So much oil money has been pouring in, they built all kinds of stuff in the big cities. But out on the steppe, the villages, the tribal areas, it’s still like the middle ages. When we get into town, we’ll have to look for a land line. And if we can find one, you said you could call the company to get us a plane or something. Right?”
“Absolutely,” Tripp said. “I just hope we can find a place to stay.”
“Wait a minute. If we find a place, what do we do about Jake’s body?” Bill asked.
Tripp turned around to face the guy. “Big problem. Let’s pull over and put it in the trunk for now. Can’t exactly drag a body into a hotel. That is if they’ve got any hotels or inns or anything like that around here.”
“If you can get through to GeoGlobal, see if they can find a casket or something,” the driver suggested.
“We’ll have to work that out,” Tripp said. “And after I call them, the next call is going to have to be to Samantha, Jake’s daughter.”
“That’s gonna be the tough one,” the driver said, heading the Buick down what looked to be the main road of a rather large village.
“You got that one right,” Tripp said, with a worrying frown.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
THE WHITE HOUSE
“What do you think we’ll do now that the president of Kazakhstan has stiffed the IAEA about immediate inspections?” Samantha asked, sitting in front of Hunt Daniel’s desk in the EEOB. The lanky Lieutenant Colonel had a stack of classified documents in front of him along with a series of telephones, one that Samantha knew was a secure phone. She also spied a photograph in a bookcase off to the side. It was a color photo of an attractive blond woman with strawberry blond hair pushed behind some sort of headband. Samantha wondered if that was the famous Dr. Cameron Talbot. She had heard that Hunt was dating her. Must be. She didn’t look much like a scientist. Then again, what was a scientist supposed to look like? Samantha refocused on what Hunt was saying about the Kazaks.
“They are being totally obstinate on this one. They’ve got to realize that we’ll come down hard on them, and that we’ll get a bunch of our friends to join us this time.”
“What about the Russians?”
“For once they’ll be with us,” Hunt said assuredly.
“But what I don’t get is why they’re behaving this way? I mean, if that test really was some sort of mistake, like their president said, you’d think they’d want to clear up the confusion and make a statement about how they’re only developing nuclear power for peaceful purposes and how this was an aberration. Or something along those lines. Even if it’s a bald-faced lie, at least that might placate the UN types who are always looking for a reason not to take action on something like this.”
Hunt took a sip of coffee from his White House mug and asked, “You sure you don’t want some coffee? We’ve got plenty in the ante room.”
Samantha shook her head. “Had my fill for the morning, but what’s your take on their nuclear situation?”
“Well, they’ve got several nuclear plants operating in the country. They’re working out okay t
o provide energy. No problem there. But now with this explosion, they’re obviously expanding to weapons and missiles, and I just don’t see how they’re going to weasel their way out of this one. The way I see it, though, is that they feel threatened by the Russians. Well, we’ve talked about that. And now they’re just showing some muscle.”
“Trouble is, the rest of the world doesn’t like muscle-builders,” Samantha said, “especially now with so many terrorist groups trying to buy or steal nuclear material. I mean who knows where this could go?”
“Right,” Hunt said. “But back on the what-are-we-going-to-do scenario. I’m putting together a decision document for Ken laying out how we impose unilateral sanctions on a few specific areas and how we could include some of their top people in the mix. I’ve been talking to Treasury, and they’re ready to roll if they get a sign-off from the president. In fact, the Veep mentioned sanctions and a possible freeze on that trip of his to Florida. You probably saw that report. So he’s inoculated the news media on that one.”
“Yes, I saw it in the News Summary. Now, I hope we can pull this off,” Samantha said. “We can be the first in line, and then State can work on getting other countries to come on board.”
“That’s the plan,” Hunt said.
“By the way, how is Dr. Talbot coming on her missile defense project?”
“She’s been watching the development of MDA’s airborne laser, but the trouble with that one is that ever since Congress cut the funding, or rather that congresswoman from California, Betty Barton, cut the damn funding for the Missile Defense Agency, Cammy isn’t sure it’ll work. Not yet anyway. So she’s been trying to develop a whole new approach to stop a missile. Especially one that might be detonated up in the atmosphere. It’s kind of tricky though. It’s classified, of course. But as soon as I learn more about it, I’ll fill you in. You’ve got all the clearances.”
“Thanks, Hunt. I really want to stay up to speed on this one.” She felt her cell vibrate and said, “Oh, give me a minute. Let me just check and see if this call is worth taking.” She fished her cell out of her jacket pocket and cried out, “Oh my God! It’s from Tripp. He’s alive!”
Castle Bravo Page 16
