CREDIBLE WITNESS. SHE APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN PURSUED BY RUSSIAN SPECIAL FORCES IN MOLDOVA. REPORTS A SPLIT IN GUERRILLA LEADERSHIP. CLAIMS DWINDLING GUERRILLA NUMBERS, BOASTED BY RUSSIAN SPETSNAZ TROOPS. I AM IN THE PROCESS OF GATHERING FURTHER INFORMATION.
There was additional information from the ambassador at Bucharest, indicating that the damage to the Romanian pipeline would be fixed within a few days. The Romanian government had tried to keep a lid on information about the attack, but someone claiming to be a spokesman for the guerrillas had posted photos on the Web earlier that day and contacted the Romanian and German media.
And the country's president, Alin Voda, had called the ambassador on his personal line and requested American air assistance "to hunt the criminals before they make their next attack."
Jed backed out of his account and went to find his boss.
"I know there have been a lot of rumors about a Medal of Honor for Colonel Bastian," said President Martin-dale, wrapping up his speech. "Let me just say this — they're true."
The audience, which had applauded politely a few times as Martindale spoke, erupted with a loud and unanimous hurrah. He stepped back and gestured to Dog, signaling that he should step forward to the mike.
"I really don't deserve this honor," said Dog, taking the microphone and addressing the others at the base. "You do. You all do. You've made my time here fantastic. Mr. President, there's no better command on the face of the earth."
"We have another update from Romania," whispered Philip Freeman, stepping up toward the President. "It may interest you."
"Let's discuss it on the plane."
"Yes, sir."
A few minutes later, aboard Air Force One, the President listened to Jed review the message from the CIA.
Meanwhile, a quick scan of the networks and news wire services showed that the energy market was already reacting to the news of the attack. Natural gas prices had shot up nearly thirty percent, and petroleum futures were trading ten dollars higher — which would have an impact on America as well as Europe.
"We have to deal with this forcefully," said Martindale. "If the Russians think they can get away without consequence, they'll continue to attack."
"That's only from one source," protested Secretary of State Hartmann. "And a prejudiced one."
"I don't see what a guerrilla would gain by blaming the Russians," said Chastain.
"We're not there — we don't know what the politics are."
"Regardless, we have to take a stand immediately," said Martindale. "If only to calm the energy markets. I'm not going to suck my thumb like Carter and the others during the oil embargo. We're protecting that gas line."
"Sending aircraft could backfire," said Hartmann. "If the Russians are truly involved, they may use it as an excuse to up their assistance."
"They don't need an excuse," said Chastain.
"We do have to be careful about the border situation," said Freeman. "Especially Moldova. They've asked to join NATO as well."
"They backed off that six months ago," noted Chastain. "The Russians have been courting them."
"If our forces got across the border, that will drive them into Russia's arms," said Freeman. "And even if we're willing to write them off, if other countries think we're backing Romania in a secret war against Moldova rather than the guerrillas, that will damage our hopes of getting them into NATO. Germany for one will object."
"Agreed," said the President. "But if we handle this correctly, we'll help our cause."
"Perhaps," admitted Hartmann.
"We'll send air support," said the President. "Moldova is absolutely off-limits, but if we send the right people, that won't be a problem."
It was obvious who the President had in mind.
"Jed, get General Samson up here," added Martindale. "And Dog. I want to talk to them personally."
General Samson strode purposely into the President's conference room aboard Air Force One. It wasn't nearly as big or as elaborate as he thought it would be— fabric-covered walls stood behind two oversized couches on either side of a low conference table. Still, it was the President's conference room.
Samson nodded at Martindale, who was on the phone, then at Secretary of Defense Arthur Chastain, National Security Advisor Philip Freeman — and Lieutenant Colonel Bastian.
Bastian?
What the hell was he doing here? "Philip, explain what's going on," said Martindale, covering the phone's mouthpiece. "I'll be right with you."
Samson listened as the National Security Advisor explained the situation in Romania.
"I'm sure Dreamland can supply planes to track ground movements," said Samson when he was finished. "And the Whiplash boys can give some close-air support lessons. I'll have a deployment plan ready no later than the end of the month."
"You're not quite understanding," said Freeman. "This has top priority."
Samson wasn't sure what Freeman was implying. Deploying to a place like Romania took a great deal of preparation. Two weeks worth of planning was nothing, especially given the present state of his staff. He was still filling positions.
But he sensed excuses weren't what Freeman or Chastain, much less the President himself, wanted.
"By the end of next week, certainly," he said. "I already have a few things in mind."
"General, we'd like you to be on the ground in a day or two," said Arthur Chastain.
"A day or two?"
"The Whiplash orders call for immediate deployment," said Freeman.
"Of course. Once we have a plan in place."
No one said anything. Samson felt about as comfortable as a skunk in church. Sweat began percolating under his collar.
He shot a sideways glance at Dog. Bastian must be loving this.
Why the hell was he here, anyway? The President finished his phone call. "Gentlemen, are we set?" he asked. The others looked at Samson.
"I just wanted to make sure," started Samson. "The— expediency of the mission. You're asking for us… well sir, let me put it this way. We can of course deploy immediately.
Tomorrow if you wish. But with a little more preparation, we—"
"Yes, tomorrow, of course," said Martindale. "Dog— Colonel Bastian — you'll be going?"
Dog cleared his throat. "That would be up to the general, sir. I'm at his disposal."
Clever, thought Samson, as Martindale turned his gaze back toward him.
But the assignment might be just the thing to get Bastian out from under his hair while he continued reorganizing the base. Yes, it would work very nicely.
"If Colonel Bastian is available, it would be great to have him on the mission," said Samson. "I'll need an experienced deputy at the scene, so to speak. I can't think of anyone better to lead the mission there. Assuming that's all right with you, Mr. President."
"General, that's perfect." Martindale rose and extended his hand, in effect dismissing him. "I look forward to a long working relationship with you. Carry on."
III
Killers of Children
The field at Iasi was fairly long, but the approach was not. Between the nearby mountains and the possibility of handheld antiaircraft missiles, aircraft had to drop precipitously and then veer sharply to the west to land. For all his experience in the Megafortress, Dog broke into a sweat as his copilot, Lieutenant Kevin Sullivan, read off his altitude. But he loved it.