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Although the windowless room could seat twenty guests, only Alex Rudenko was present, sitting at a table with a menu in his hands. Guimond took a seat opposite him as a waiter entered, then departed after both men placed their order. When the door shut, Guimond turned to business.

“We’ve been given authorization to proceed,” he said.

Rudenko, a Ukrainian of Russian descent, shot an uneasy look toward the door, then focused on Guimond. “I cannot agree without assurance.”

“You won’t be killed,” Guimond replied, failing to divulge the most important detail. “However, the others on the podium…” He trailed off before continuing, “There will be several deaths. This we cannot avoid. I suggest you carefully consider who will accompany you.”

Rudenko nodded. “I have already decided.”

“Good, then,” Guimond said, pushing forward even though Rudenko hadn’t formally agreed. He was part of the conspiracy now. “We need the event scheduled quickly. Well publicized; a major announcement forthcoming, perhaps.”

“Yes, yes,” Rudenko replied. “I have a plan. Covered by all the media outlets.” Rudenko fell silent as the door opened and the waiter entered, depositing their drinks before exiting.

“The second event?” Guimond inquired.

“Not yet planned,” Rudenko said, “but it won’t be a problem. It’ll be a large gathering, well attended by the media again.”

“Excellent,” Guimond said.

Rudenko asked, “How do I inform you once the events are scheduled?”

“It won’t be necessary. We’ll be following your activity. It would be best if there was no further contact between us.” Guimond withdrew his wallet, tossing one hundred hryvnia onto the table as he stood. “This should cover my meal.”

Rudenko grabbed Guimond’s wrist. “My reward? Has the Kremlin agreed?”

“Yes, Alex. The Kremlin has agreed to your request.”

A smile creased Rudenko’s face as he released his acquaintance’s wrist.

Guimond returned a warm smile as he slid his wallet into his pocket. The required events had been arranged. Whether Rudenko fully understood what would transpire wasn’t his concern.

11

WASHINGTON, D.C.

In her West Wing corner office, National Security Advisor Christine O’Connor scanned the documents on her desk, paying no attention to the rain droplets splattering against her triple-paned, bombproof windows. It had been an unusually harsh winter, but the snow had finally melted, giving way to a wet spring. The heavy rain and overcast skies darkened her mood this morning, but she did her best to remain focused on her task — preparing for her trip to Russia.

She was headed to Moscow for the next round of negotiations for the follow-on to New START, the treaty governing the two countries’ nuclear weapons. Russia made several concessions following the events at Ice Station Nautilus, but everything to this point was verbal. Christine was intent on ensuring the agreements became codified in the new treaty. Her eyes shifted between the printed document on her desk — the most recent draft of the new agreement — and handwritten comments in her notepad, recording the issues resolved since their last meeting.

There was a knock on her open door, and Christine looked up to find the president’s chief of staff, Kevin Hardison, in the doorway. “The president wants to see us.”

Grabbing her notepad, she joined Hardison for the short journey to the Oval Office, finding SecDef McVeigh seated on one of the two couches. As the president pushed back from his desk to join them, Hardison said, “SecState will be here soon.”

“Be seated,” the president said, and Hardison settled onto the couch beside McVeigh while Christine took a seat opposite them.

* * *

The president approached the three members of his staff and cabinet, taking a chair at one end of the two sofas. As they waited for SecState Dawn Cabral’s arrival, the president noted Christine’s position opposing the two men, and his thoughts turned to her unique situation, the only member of the opposite political party on his staff.

Three years ago, on a recommendation from Kevin Hardison, he had interviewed Christine for his national security advisor. She had the requisite background, serving as a congressional staffer specializing in weapons procurement, followed by a stint as assistant secretary of defense for special operations and low-intensity conflict, along with several years as the director of nuclear defense policy. During her interview, he’d been surprised: Christine pulled no punches, explaining how his proposed policies would be disastrous for the United States. After being surrounded by staffers eager to please and agree with the president-elect, he found Christine’s candor a breath of fresh air. He hadn’t made the phone call until the next morning, but he’d made his decision before the interview was over.

Hardison no doubt regretted his recommendation; Christine was far more forceful now than when they worked together twenty years ago, when she was an impressionable young staffer. Now, Christine was quick to engage Hardison and the president whenever she disagreed with their proposals, which was exactly the way the president liked it. Although he didn’t always agree with Christine, her opinions and recommendations often distilled clarity into cloudy, contentious issues.

However, since her return from Ice Station Nautilus, she’d been uncharacteristically withdrawn, saying what needed to be said and nothing more, working long hours into the evening and on weekends. It wasn’t hard to realize what she was doing. She was staying busy to keep her mind off of what she’d done. Even Hardison had backed off, toning down his interactions with Christine. He’d become aware of the role she played in Captain Brackman’s death, and it was easy to discern the guilt she felt, deserved or not.

SecState Cabral’s knock on the Oval Office door pulled the president’s thoughts back to the pending meeting, and as Dawn settled onto the couch beside Christine, the president turned to McVeigh. “Go ahead, Bob.”

McVeigh replied, “We’ve detected some disconcerting Russian military activity over the last twenty-four hours. Their two largest fleets, the Northern and Pacific Fleets, have sortied to sea, taking every combatant including their aircraft carrier Kuznetsov. Russia’s Baltic and Black Sea Fleets haven’t deployed, but their level of readiness has been increased, as has that of Russia’s ground and air forces.

“In addition to the deployment of Russia’s two largest fleets, there have been several troop movements. Most are probably related to Russia’s upcoming Victory Day celebration in Moscow, commemorating the end of World War Two in Europe. The parade through Red Square typically features ten to twenty thousand troops and the latest Russian military hardware. However, three Russian units are heading northwest, toward Kaliningrad Oblast. Russia has previously threatened to move more troops and advanced missile systems into the oblast, and appears to be following through. A mechanized infantry division is en route, along with two missile brigades.”

After McVeigh fell silent, the president said, “Let’s talk about the Russian fleet deployments first. What are they up to?”

“Our best guess,” McVeigh replied, “is that their Northern Fleet is headed into the Mediterranean to provide additional firepower off the coast of Syria, although it’s curious as to why they would use their Navy instead of additional land-based missile batteries. As to where their Pacific Fleet is headed, we don’t have a clue yet. All we know right now is that they’re headed south, skirting around the Reagan strike group. We’ll learn more over the next few days.”