Sean gave a weak nod. "Okay, Doc. I'll do what you say."
"That's better. Now, here's some water. I'm sure you're thirsty even though that thing is pumping fluids in you."
He set a cup with a straw next to Sean on a little end table. Sean picked it up and took a sip. The water was cold and had a slight taste of iron to it, but he didn't care. He was thirsty.
"Thanks for saving my life," Sean said as he set the cup back down on the table. "I'd be dead if not for you."
"Yep. You probably would." The curt answer almost caused Sean to start laughing again, but he fought it off. "And you're more than welcome. I took the bullets out. Saved them in a bowl in the kitchen in case you wanted to keep them. One was pretty close to your heart. You're lucky. I guess it wasn't your time yet."
Sean wriggled into the sheets and stared at the ceiling. Too many things were running through his head. Questions about who had attacked him and why were some of the more pervasive. He also realized he'd need to get in contact with his people. "Jack, I need you to do me a favor."
"Name it."
"I'm going to give you a phone number. I need you to call it and ask for a woman named Emily Starks. Tell her it's from Sean and it's urgent. They'll ask for a security code. It's three, seven, four, eight, six."
"Ain't got no phones here, but there's a diner a few miles away on the main road. If you need to make a call, you can do it from there when you feel better or I can go into town tomorrow morning and do it for you."
No phones? Not even a cell phone? Apparently, this guy was living all the way off the grid. Sean had a cabin that wasn't connected to the world, but he could always get online via satellite if he needed to and he always had a cell phone with him. His phone had been taken away by the CIA guys who'd abducted him. Now he was on a snowy island in the middle of nowhere with no connection to anyone or anything except a former doctor turned hermit.
"Okay," Sean said, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to be strong enough to get up anytime soon. "If you're going to make a call for me when you go into town, let's go ahead and make it three calls."
"Got people who will be worried about you?" Jack asked.
"You could say that."
Chapter 3
Secretary of State Kent Foster waited patiently for the door to open. He'd been sitting in the Oval Office for just over twenty minutes. It wasn't unusual for the president to keep him waiting. For a man who was on such a tight schedule, it seemed Dawkins was perpetually running behind.
Secretary Foster looked down at his phone and tapped one of the app icons. He made a quick note of something he didn't want to forget later in the day before putting the phone back in his pocket. He did so just as the door to his left opened.
He stood up as the president, two Secret Service men, and one of Dawkins's advisers walked in.
"Mr. President," Foster said in a polite tone.
"Good morning, Kent. Please, have a seat."
The secretary did as instructed and returned to his seat. The president's adviser left a note on the Resolute Desk before disappearing out the door again. It closed behind him leaving the room in momentary silence.
"So, tell me what's so urgent that you had to meet with me this morning." Dawkins eased into his seat and folded his hands on the desk's surface. His brown, wavy hair was combed to one side as best as could be done, though it seemed to often have a mind of its own.
"We have an issue, sir."
"Obviously, Kent. What kind of issue?"
"Actually, sir, there are two," Foster said. "The first is the Russians. We have reason to believe they are pushing closer and closer to Alaska. I've been briefed by the council. Things are starting to get tense. They've gone so far as to begin installing oil rigs just off the Aleutian shores. I've heard that they've even been so brazen as to send geological experts to a few locations to investigate potential drilling sites. This is a direct encroachment. We're going to need to take a stand."
"I've been told the same thing by the members of the council," Dawkins said. "Which is why we are meeting with them in two hours."
"Yes, sir. I'm aware of the meeting."
"This couldn't wait until then?"
Foster tilted his head toward the floor for a second, slightly embarrassed by the question. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir. It's just that… the Russians get more emboldened every day. Their president has claimed rightful ownership of Alaska and wants the United States to return it to them."
"Again, I've heard this stuff before, Kent. How in the blue blazes that guy thinks he can just push us out of that territory is beyond me. He's just blowing smoke. He wouldn't dare try an invasion, not this day and age."
Foster cleared his throat. "While it is certainly a possibility that this is just a case of the Russian leader trying to show a little bravado, we still have to take this threat seriously, sir."
Dawkins leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on the other knee. It wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with the Russian president. A few years before, the man had been brazen enough to invade a section of Ukraine, claiming it had always been Russian land and Russian citizens still lived there. Remarkably, the international community did little more than blast the move on social media, which was basically like throwing snowballs at a tank.
President Dawkins had watched everything unfold from afar, waiting to see what would happen before issuing any executive orders. He'd adopted a strong policy of neutrality when it came to most international conflicts. Dawkins firmly believed in a strong defense but without trying to police the world. The rest of the planet had made it abundantly clear that they didn't want the United States poking its nose in everyone's business. And so, President John Dawkins all but refused to openly jump into conflict.
Of course, what the public didn't know was that he'd secretly ordered elite units to take care of certain situations abroad.
A warlord in Sudan had been wreaking havoc on the country and its people. Women were being victimized in horrible, unthinkable ways. Children were brutally murdered. People were starving and exposed to the elements with no shelter.
His predecessor had stayed away from such situations, probably because there was no money in swooping into a central African nation to help people in need. His predecessor had focused more on oil countries.
Not Dawkins.
He had ordered a tactical strike on the Sudanese warlord that took out the man and most of his followers in one swoop. Next, Dawkins had sent tens of millions in aid to help feed the people and get them back on their feet.
The attacks on the warlord were never publicized, never shown in the media, because that's how covert ops were supposed to work. Dawkins wasn't a fan of bragging. He didn't put his triumphs out there for everyone to see so his approval ratings would go up a fraction of a point. He just got the job done, and the people loved him for it.
He'd handled several situations in much the same way, helping people who couldn't help themselves.
The Ukraine situation, however, was different.
The Russians had been stewing for a long time. Their national resources were vast, but severely restricted and less cost effective than getting them somewhere else. That, or implement new laws and regulations that would enable the country to get back on its feet with more renewable resources and better management of nonrenewable ones.
While Dawkins couldn't fly in and bomb the Russians back across their border with the Ukraine affair, he had every right to defend Alaska. A full-on military assault wasn't his first choice, especially when the people infringing on U.S. borders were mostly civilians.