Black Sea Affair (34 page)

He looked over the speech that had been written for him for the joint ceremony by the pier in Odessa.

To my dear friend President Butrin, and to the warm, peace-loving people of Ukraine, I bring heartfelt greetings and open arms from the people of Russia.

We are bonded by a history forged by war, tempered by peace, and destined for prosperity.

Today, we enter into a new era of cooperation that will bring good will to all peoples of our region.

But justice for all will never be realized until there is justice even for the weakest of the earth.

For the orphans of the Ukraine, for the orphans of the East, we share your compassion . . . and we share your passion.

Evtimov could read no more. He folded the speech and put it back in his briefcase. The events in Georgia still had him fuming. How had his Fulcrums been gunned down by American F-15s? Although the most serious international crisis still loomed around the missing plutonium, Evtimov found it difficult to contain his temper about America's meddling with what was essentially a Russian problem.

He had swallowed Russian pride by using diplomatic rather than military force in reponse, and supposed that the proposed UN condemnation proposal was the best solution. But if the Americans fired on any other Russian targets, he may not be so apt to respond diplomatically.

Next time, he would respond with the hammer and the sickle. That thought brought some degree of satisfaction.

"Pardon me, Comrade President."

Evtimov looked up and saw his chief of staff, Sergey Semyonovich Sobyanin, standing in the entrance to the presidential cabin. He wore a grave look on his face.

"What is it, Sergey Semyonovich?"

"It is the orphans, sir. We believe that the freighter they were on has sunk."

"Sunk?"

"A distress call came on a VLF frequency from
Alexander Popovich
, the freighter carrying the orphans. The distress call claimed that the freighter had been hit by a torpedo and was sinking."

"A torpedo? Who? How?"

"We don't know. A Ukrainian airliner that heard the signal is reported to have flown over the area and seen a submarine on the surface near where the freighter was last believed to have transmitted."

"What submarine? One of ours?"

"The pilot believes that the submarine could be of the U.S.
Los
Angeles
class."

"Impossible!"

"I would think so also, Vitaly Sergeivich. But the airline pilot is a former ASW pilot in the Ukrainian Navy. He could be mistaken, of course. But something is not right."

The president stood, crossed his arms, and walked back and forth down the aisle.

"Does President Butrin know?"

"Yes, sir. Butrin knows."

"And?"

"He wants an emergency meeting with you at the airport as soon as you land."

Evtimov let that sit for a minute. "I have a feeling the Americans will help us get Ukraine back despite ourselves."

"Perhaps, " the chief of staff mused.

"Notify the commander of our Sevastopol naval base. I want every ship and plane we have scouring that sector of the sea. If the Americans are responsible, we will find that sub and sink her. And then we will kick them out of Georgia, and kick them wherever else we need to kick them! Every ship and plane. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir, Comrade President."

Lifeboat

The Black Sea

The rubber boat churned through the water, towing the lifeboat in its wake. It approached the stern of the submarine.

Men stood on the top of the submarine, in orange jackets, waving directions at the rubber boat. A small, floating ramp extended from the back of the submarine into the water.

The children's fear had transformed into a fixated fascination, at least for now. For that, Masha was grateful. At least they had calmed down a bit. Aleksey, however, still sitting in the front of the boat, was strangely subdued, as if he had turned into a ragdoll. Perhaps he was exhausted from getting them off the ship and fighting the whirlpool.

One sailor tossed a rope into the lifeboat from the submarine while another crouched down the ramp and stepped into the boat. He tied the rope to the boat. Others on the submarine pulled the bow of the boat up onto the floating ramp.

The man spoke in perfect Russian. "I am Lieutenant Phil Jamison, United States Navy. Welcome aboard the USS
Honolulu.
But we must hurry. Come, children!"

Inside, Masha cheered.
Americans!

Aleksey went up the ramp first. The children scampered up the ramp in a single-file line, and the men were lifting them up and passing them to other men who were inside the hatch of the submarine. Finally when Sasha headed up the ramp, Masha left the boat.

"This way, ma'am." The Russian-speaking lieutenant directed her to another orange-jacketed sailor, who stood beside the open hatch. The sailor took her hand and helped her climb down a ladder.

An officer stood at the bottom of the ladder. At least, she assumed he was an officer. He wore a dark blue jump suit and had gold oak leaves on his collars. The name
Pippen
was written across his chest.

This officer spoke no Russian. He put his hand on her shoulder and led her down a very dark, narrow hallway in the submarine. He directed her into a room off to the left, where the children were congregated. It looked like some sort of a dining room and had fluorescent lights hanging overhead.

He pointed to a seat at the end of one of the long metal benches at the table.

She sat and exhaled.

And then, it hit her.

Dima!

"Dima! Dima! Where is Dima?" She stood, screaming. "Dima! Dima!

Dima!"

"Settle down, ma'am! Settle down!" some of the Americans were saying.

"Masha, calm down!" Aleksey said. "I am sure he is fine. We did what we had to do!"

"No! You said there were other lifeboats!"

"Get a corpsman in here! Now!" one of the Americans said.

"Prepare to dive! Prepare to dive!" Alarms sounded all over the submarine.

"No! We cannot leave Dima! No! No!"

"Dive! Dive!" the loudspeaker was saying.

One of the American sailors, a big man with muscular arms, pinned her to the table now. She felt the submarine begin to sink under the water.

"Nooooo!"

Another sailor wearing a blue jumpsuit walked in, carrying a syringe with a long, silver needle that sparkled under the lights.

"Jesus! You said you would help me! Please help Dima!"

The sailor stuck the needle into her arm.

"No!"

Fluorescent lights overhead started spinning. Sleep overpowered her.

The White House

President Williams was sipping tea with the Honorable Jack W. Davis, the Irish ambassador to the United States. They were accompanied by Robert Mauney, the United States secretary of state.

Mack liked the Irish, liked their temperament, and had even joked with Ambassador Davis that he was a Notre Dame fan, at least when Notre Dame was not playing Kansas.

This was good small talk, Mack thought, especially since he was not comfortable discussing the ambassador's true agenda. The Irish wanted America to press Britain on the issue of independence for Northern Ireland.

Personally, Mack did not care whether Northern Ireland was part of Ireland or Great Britain. And while he liked the Irish, America needed Britain's power, influence, and prestige, especially at a time when antiAmerican sentiment was at its highest point in history.

"I know it is a very delicate situation, Mr. Ambassador, and I will voice your concerns to Prime Minister Anthony." He was referring to his close personal friend British Prime Minister Anthony McMillan.

"My government appreciates your consideration, Mr. President."

"I cannot promise anything, except that I will speak to him."

"That is all we can ask."

The phone buzzed on the president's desk as the ambassador took another sip of tea. Thank goodness.

"Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador."

"But of course."

The president picked up the phone for his appointments secretary, Gale Staff. "Yes, Gale?"

"Mr. President. I'm sorry to interrupt, but the secretary of defense and chairman of the Joint Chiefs are on the line. They say it's urgent, sir."

"Patch it through to the ante room."

"Yes, sir."

The president hung up. "Mr. Ambassador, my apologies, but the secretary of state and I are needed for an urgent phone call."

"By all means, sir. I was just leaving."

"No, we can take it in the next room."

The Irish ambassador smiled. "No reason to displace the most powerful man in the world. Please take your call here in the Oval Office. I will show myself out. Perhaps we can speak later, Mr. President."

"You are a friend and a gentleman, Mr. Ambassador." Mack shook the ambassador's hand, and Secretary Mauney walked him to the door.

"Gale, we'll take that call in the Oval Office. Put 'em on speaker."

"Yes, sir."

Secretary Mauney closed the door to the Oval Office, then sat in a Queen Anne's chair just in front of the presidential desk.

"Mr. President, you have Secretary Lopez and Admiral Ayers on the line, " Gale Staff said.

"Erwin. John. What's up?" the president said.

"Good news and potentially disastrous news, " Secretary Erwin Lopez said.

Mack looked at the secretary of state. "Good news first."

"We've confirmed on solid intelligence that the
Honolulu
has sunk the
Alexander Popovich
, Mr. President."

"Excellent, " Mack said. "When and where?"

"Best we can tell, between thirty minutes to one hour ago. In the Black Sea. About one hundred miles west of Sevastopol."

"Now what's the potential disaster? Have the Russians discovered us?"

"Mr. President, this is Admiral Ayers."

"Yes, Admiral. Go ahead."

"Sir, we've intercepted some radio traffic. The
Popovich
sent out a distress signal before she sank, claiming that children were on board."

Mack locked eyes with Secretary Mauney. "Admiral, did you say children?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"I mean, can that be confirmed?"

"Frankly, I'm worried about it, sir, " the admiral said.

Mack's pulse raced to about two hundred beats per minute. "Why do you say that, John?"

"President Evtimov is on his way to Odessa. He and President Butrin of Ukraine were going to welcome a group of orphans sailing from Sochi, to announce some sort of Russian-Ukrainian humanitarian initiative for displaced orphans. While we can't be absolutely sure that the orphans were on the
Alexander Popovich
, the pieces are starting to fit together, Mr. President."

"Dear God, help us." Mack buried his face in his hands. "How did our intelligence miss that?"

"Can't answer that, Mr. President, " Secretary Lopez said. "I guess we could ask the CIA about that."

"That's not good enough!" Mack snapped, looking up at his defense secretary. "If this is true, the Navy is just as culpable as the CIA. And ultimately, if this is true, these children's lives are on my shoulders."

"You did what you had to do, Mr. President, " Admiral Ayers chimed in. "We had no way of knowing, sir. Besides, at least we got the plutonium."

Mack buried his head back in his hands. "Dear God, what have I done?"

Ilyushin I1-96 jetliner

50 miles northeast of Odessa, Ukraine

Comrade President. As you requested, Admiral Voynavich is on the line."

"
Spaceeba
, Sergey Semyonovich." The president took the secure air phone from his chief of staff and spoke to his Black Sea fleet commander. "Admiral, you are familiar with the distress call from our freighter off Sevastopol."

"Yes, sir."

"And you know my orders?"

"Yes, Comrade President."

"Well, as you know, I am about to meet with President Butrin in just a few minutes when we land. This meeting is an opportunity to shore up our relations with Ukraine. This whole orphans issue is killing him on the inside. Are you aware of this?"

"Yes, sir. It is my understanding that Butrin once lived in an orphanage."

"I want to assure President Butrin that we will find and sink that submarine. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Drop every sonobuoy we have into the Black Sea, if we have to. Find that sub. I hold you personally responsible for this, Admiral. Do you understand me?"