Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 06 (35 page)

 
          
...
so she didn’t see the missiles streak just a few dozen yards overhead, past the
Megafortress, and hit the last Chinese Sukhoi-33 carrier fighter, seconds
before it opened fire on the EB-52 from close range.

 
          
When
she found herself still alive,
Cheshire
opened her eyes. There before her, making a
graceful left turn to parallel her course, was another EB-52 Megafortress! The
second Megafortress, paired with hers, had come off the refueling anchor when
the shooting started and had just arrived in the area. “Oh my God, it’s Kelvin
and Diane’s crew,”
Cheshire
breathed. “When the shooting started, I forgot all about them coming on
station. They must’ve just come off the tanker and headed right down here when
they heard the shooting start.”

 
          
“What
a beautiful sight,” McLanahan said to
Cheshire
. He was behind her again, checking on
Elliott. “Get on their wing—it looks like they’re headed back to the air
refueling anchor.”

 
          
“You
got it,”
Cheshire
agreed. “How’s Brad?”

 
          
Elliott’s
oxygen blinker looked OK, so he was breathing; McLanahan checked for any signs
of chest trauma or bleeding, and found nothing. Elliott’s eyes were closed, but
when McLanahan gently touched his eyelids, the veteran three-star aviator
opened his eyes. “Quit fucking with me, nav,” Elliott groused.

 
          
“Are
you okay, sir?”

 
          
“I
feel like I’ve got a two-thousand-pound bomb on my chest,” he responded. “The
windblast must’ve knocked the wind outta me.”

 
          
“Any
other pain? You’re not having a heart attack on me, are you, sir? You took one
hell of a slam by that windblast when the cockpit windscreen let go. ”

 
          
“Hey,
I’ll compare EKGs with you any day, Muck,” Elliott grumbled, trying to sit up
against the starboard bulkhead. “We okay?”

 
          
“Kelvin
Carter showed up and saved our bacon right at the nick of time,” McLanahan
said. “We’re on his wing, heading back to the anchor.” Elliott nodded. He
looked a little pale, and his oxygen blinker showed a slightly shallow, labored
breathing pattern. McLanahan removed a flight glove and tried to take Elliott’s
pulse, but he shook McLanahan’s fingers off his wrist. “Get away from me and
help Cheshire fly the beast,” Elliott said. “I’m fine. It’s her flying you need
to keep an eye on now.” “Har har,” Cheshire said.

 
          
“Brad
...”

 
          
“Get
out of my face, nav. I’m fine,” Elliott said.

 
          
Deciding
that there was nothing more he could do for his friend and aircraft commander
now, McLanahan nodded. He retrieved both his and Elliott’s flight jackets and
covered the pilot up with them. “I’ll check on you in a few,” he said.

 
          
“You
better not wake me up trying to play nurse,” Elliott said, giving his young
protege a thumbs-up. “Get back to your seat. And Muck ... I mean, Patrick?”

 
          
“Yeah,
Brad?”

 
          
“We
had to take on those Chinese warships, didn’t we?” Elliott asked. “We had to
help defend those ships, didn’t we?” The pain in his eyes was obvious—but
whether it was from his injuries or from having doubts about his actions,
McLanahan couldn’t tell.

           
“We had to do something, Brad—we’re
not out here flying around for nothing,” McLanahan replied.

 
          
The
smile in Elliott’s eyes seemed to light up the cockpit, despite the windblast
damage. “You’re damned right, Muck,” Elliott breathed behind his oxygen mask.
“You’re damned right.”

THE WHITE HOUSE CABINET ROOM,
WASHINGTON
,
D.C.

TUESDAY, 3 JUNE 1997
,
1927 HOURS ET

           
“Mr. President, there is no one on
Capitol Hill more aware of the need for extreme security than me,” the new
Senate Majority Leader, Barbara Finegold, said, as the group settled in for the
meeting in the White House West Wing’s Cabinet Room, “but eventually you
have
to release some information to the
congressional leadership. Now might be the perfect time to do it.”

 
          
“Senator,
as I told you before this photo op began, there is nothing else I can tell
you,” the President said, with a forced smile. “I have procedures I need to
follow too, and I have to wait on the results of the security review. ”

 
          
“I
see,” Senator Finegold said, letting out an audible exasperated breath. The
seating had been rearranged after the press had departed, so now Finegold, the
forty-eight-year-old former Los Angeles mayor and third-term senator from
California, was seated across from the President, instead of two seats from him
as in the official press photos. On her side of the table was House Minority
Leader Joseph Crane and several other prominent House and Senate Democrats.
Seated to President Martin- dale’s right was Vice President Ellen Whiting,
Secretary of Defense Chastain, House Majority Leader Nicholas Gant, Senate
Minority Leader Michael Fortier, and White House Chief of Staff Jerrod Hale; on
the President’s left was Secretary of State Hartman, Joint Chiefs of Staff chairman
Admiral George Balboa, National Security Advisor Philip Freeman, CIA director
Layne W. Moore, and Attorney General Robert M. Procter.

 
          
“Great
meeting, everyone, thank you,” the President said. Chief of Staff Jerrod Hale
stood, a signal for the rest of the President’s advisors to start heading for
the door, but the President said, “We have a few minutes more. Any other
questions I can answer for anyone?” Hiding his impatience, Hale stood beside
the door and listened intently to every word.

           
“Mr. President, I’m afraid this
might require some Senate Arms Services Committee hearings to determine exactly
what happened in the
Persian
Gulf
,” Finegold
forged on, “and to respond to the question brought up by the media and by
several well-known military experts as to exactly how the radar sites in
Iran
were destroyed. If it’s true that the only
way those sites could have been bombed was by an American stealth bomber
secretly flying all the way across China and Afghanistan, as has been
speculated, I think the congressional leadership needs and has a right to know.
”

 
          
“You
certainly have the right and the authority to call such hearings,” the
President said. Although Kevin Martindale had been successful in regaining the
White House by a slim margin, he had not been as successful in helping to keep
a majority in the Senate, and Barbara Finegold was a powerful and worthy
adversary. Tall, dark, immensely popular, with a fashion models face and
figure, she was already being touted as a shoo- in for her party’s presidential
nomination in the year 2000, outstripping the former administration’s vice
president and a host of other male candidates. “We will cooperate all we can—”

 
          
“But
the White House would insist on closed-door hearings,” Secretary of Defense
Chastain interjected. “All records would be placed in the highest
classification level possible.”

 
          
“Given
the current events concerning
China
,” Secretary of State Hartman added, “we
think that’s the most prudent avenue to take.”

           
“Fine—I agree,” Finegold said.
“Then you agree to cooperate in committee hearings?”

           
“I might remind the President that
the Pentagon’s security review on the events in the
Persian Gulf
hasn’t even been completed yet,” National
Security Advisor Freeman said. “We don’t even really know to what extent
everything is classified yet. Our review could take several months.” “I see,”
Senator Finegold repeated stiffly. This was the face of the opposition, she
thought—this White House was tough, experienced, and well organized under Kevin
Martindale. It might take several months for hearings to begin if these
political pros put on a full-court press to postpone them.

           
But the unwritten “three-month
honeymoon” period after the inauguration was now over, and the Martindale
administration was fair game to any inquiries she could concoct. “Well, I’ll
see to it that the SASC gets together with you and the Pentagon folks in
drawing up a list of witnesses and agreeing on a format,” Finegold said. “I’m
counting on your full cooperation.” The President nodded stiffly and gave her a
cocky smile. It was obvious to Senator Finegold that the entire Cabinet had
given the idea of Senate hearings very careful thought and had already begun to
arrange its ground rules, all of which would be designed so the White House and
Pentagon would reveal as little hard information as possible.

 
          
“The
other matter I wanted to mention to you, Mr. President,” Fine- gold said,
leaning forward and interlacing her long fingers on the table, “was your
proposal to repeal the 1979 Taiwan Relations Act, which would allow for full
diplomatic recognition of Taiwan. Did you think it was wise to announce this
proposal to the entire world before consulting with Congress? To my knowledge,
you didn’t even consult with leaders in your own party before announcing your
intention to support Taiwan’s independence from mainland China and to allow an
exchange of ambassadors.”

 
          
“Is
there a problem?” the President asked. “Don’t you feel we should support
Taiwan’s independence efforts?”

 
          
Finegold
looked angry. “Frankly, Mr. President, I hadn’t thought about it,” she said
testily, “just as I haven’t considered what the proper response might be in
Northern Ireland, or Cyprus, or dozens of conflicts anywhere else. The point
is, we should be deciding these questions
together.
It would help the ratification process tremendously if the Senate Foreign
Relations Committee and the leadership knew what you have in mind before
announcing it to the world.”

 
          
“My
hand was forced by Taiwan’s abrupt vote for independence— they chose not to
consult with us, or anyone else for that matter,” the President said. “I felt
it was necessary to make a decision and take a stand quickly, before China
decided it needed to give its errant province a spanking. I will be sure to
consult with you closely the next time.”

 
          
“The
world still considers Taiwan a province of China, Mr. President,” Finegold
said. “We’ve isolated ourselves and put ourselves on a collision course with
mainland China by recognizing the Republic of China.”

 
          
“Do
you
think it’s nothing but a rogue
republic, Senator?” the President asked. Finegold shook her head in
exasperation, and the President went on, “The question is important, Barbara.
Read your history books. The Nationalists were our allies in World War Two, every
bit as important in establishing a ‘second front’ in
Asia
as
Britain
and
France
were in
Europe
. Because of a Communist-sparked civil war,
our allies were pushed off the mainland and onto a rock in the Pacific Ocean.
They’ve endured artillery bombardment, constant military threats, global loss
of diplomatic recognition, and economic isolation. Today, they’re one of the
richest industrial democracies in the world, and they still count the United
States as a friend and ally despite what we’ve done to them over the past
thirty years.

 
          
“Now
they’ve taken a major step in deciding their fate as a nation by rejecting
their Communist overlords and declaring independence, and they’ve asked for our
support. I proudly gave it to them. I took a stand. Now you have to do so as
well.”

 
          
“The
Congress has got to look at the overall effect on our economy and the military
threat,” Finegold argued, “before we vote to repeal the Taiwan Relations Act or
ratify your recognition of an independent Taiwan.”