Executive Intent

“No, sir, I haven’t.”

Phoenix ignored the question. “Just a few minutes ago, the Russians sent netrusion signals into a Kingfisher weapon garage, causing it to shut itself down a short time later. The signals were detected originating from a Russian space tracking and intelligence site in the Gulf of Aden, off the coast of Somalia.”

“Answer my question, Ken-how did you get this information? Who is it from?”

“Apparently a nongovernmental group investigating Russian activity in the Gulf of Aden.”

“A ‘nongovernmental group’? Care to elaborate?”

“That’s all I was told, sir.”

“Does this have to do with the commando insertion plan you concocted on that island in the Gulf of Aden…what was it, Socotra Island?”

“You canceled that operation, sir.”

“I canceled all operations in that area, Mr. Phoenix,” the president said. “How did this one come about?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Phoenix replied. “But the results are conclusive: The Russians are definitely targeting Kingfisher weapon garages, causing them to shut down.”

Chief of Staff Walter Kordus entered the Oval Office, and he motioned to National Security Adviser Carlyle that he had a phone call waiting for him. While Carlyle took the call, the president motioned for the papers Phoenix had and quickly flipped through them. “It’s all unsubstantiated stuff, Ken,” the president said, giving the file back to him. “It’s hearsay. No specifics. I think someone is feeding you information you wanted to hear. Besides, it’s moot: I’m shutting down those Kingfisher satellites anyway.” Carlyle hung up the phone loudly enough to get the president’s attention. “What, Conrad?”

“More information on that incident in the Gulf of Aden.” When he noticed Vice President Phoenix’s quizzical expression, he explained quickly: “The Reagan went to battle stations after one of its search-and-rescue helicopters went down.”

“What…?”

“Go on, Conrad,” the president ordered irritably.

“Soon after the second helicopter went down, three emergency satellite beacons were detected. One belonged to the life raft dropped by the first helicopter. We assume it was activated by the rescue swimmer when he saw the second chopper go down.”

“Makes sense. What about the others?”

“They belonged to the crewmembers of that bomber that was shot down.”

“So there were survivors!” Phoenix said.

“The rescue swimmer could’ve activated the beacons on the victims’ life vests,” Carlyle pointed out. “There’s more. The position of the three beacons stayed constant for about fifteen to twenty minutes, and then they were lost…at approximately the same time as the Reagan’s radar plane detected the unidentified helicopter come in from the west.”

“An unidentified helicopter…?” Phoenix exclaimed.

Gardner ignored him. “Lost? You mean, shut off?”

“Military locator beacons are designed so they can be shut off, to avoid crews being tracked by enemy searchers in an escape-and-evasion situation,” Carlyle said. “But EPIRBs carried on ships or life rafts are designed to stay on until the battery runs out, which could be for several days. It’s seawater-activated, waterproof, and designed to float, but if it’s submerged deeper than thirty feet, the signal can’t be heard.”

“So the beacons came on and stayed steady until an unidentified helicopter came in from the west,” Phoenix summarized for himself, “when at that time the beacons were cut off? Sounds to me like whoever was in that helicopter had something to do with that. Was anything found at the last location of those beacons? Rafts? Bodies? Wreckage? Anything?”

“No, sir, nothing,” Carlyle replied. “When the Navy patrol plane came back after turning away from the Putin carrier group, it orbited the last position for an hour until the first rescue helicopter came back, but found nothing.”

“A patrol plane flew toward the Putin?” Phoenix asked. “You mean, chasing the unidentified helicopter?” He looked at the president with a stu

“We don’t know that, Ken,” the president said, rubbing his eyes wearily. “We’re making a lot of assumptions here, and we could be screwing ourselves up. We don’t know the identities of any of those other aircraft except our own.”

“What other aircraft, sir?” Phoenix asked.

“The Hawkeye tracked a fast-moving aircraft in the area just before the Navy rescue helicopter went down,” Carlyle said. “No idea what it was, where it came from, or where it went.”

“It sounds like the Russians attacked the rescue helicopter, then sent one of its helicopters to pick up the survivors,” Phoenix said. “That’s madness! That’s an act of murder and piracy!”

“We don’t know shit, Ken,” the president said. “All this happened within the last thirty to sixty minutes half a world away. The story will change a dozen times in the next sixty minutes.”

“Sir, we’ve got to confront the Russians with what we know and what we suspect,” the vice president said. “Lives are at stake. Those bomber crewmen and the Navy diver could be in the hands of the Russians.”

“It’s being handled, Ken,” President Gardner said, longing to get back upstairs to the victory party. He looked at his vice president, thought for a moment, then: “Maybe you’re right, Ken,” he said, nodding. “I’ll meet with the entire national security team in the morning, get the latest updates, then rattle Truznyev’s cage. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Phoenix nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll make a few calls to the Reagan commander and get up to speed. Sorry I wasn’t here for the briefing.”

“That’s okay,” the president said. “But if I’m going to chair this status meeting tomorrow, I’m going to need you to fill in for me.”

“Fill in, sir?”

“I have three campaign stops scheduled in Chicago and Milwaukee for tomorrow,” the president said. “I’ll stay in Washington, get the update, and brief the Press Corps myself on what happened and what we know. I’ll have you fill in for me in Wisconsin, then we’ll blow the doors off the place by appearing together in Chicago.” He nodded to his chief of staff. “Set it up, will you, Walter? I’m heading back upstairs. Good night, all. Thank you.”

The president, chief of staff, and national security adviser departed the Oval Office, leaving Ken Phoenix by himself. He stood motionless for several long moments; then, as if accepting an unwelcome fate he had seen coming for quite some time, he went over to the president’s desk and picked up the phone. “This is the vice president,” he spoke. “Get me President Truznyev of Russia immediately.”

The president and chief of staff strode through the outer office of the West Wing, heading for the stairs to the residence. As they passed the chief secretary’s desk, she put her phone on hold and called out, “Excuse me, Mr. Kordus?”

He stopped and looked quizzically at her. President Gardner called out over his shoulder, “I’ll meet you upstairs, Walter,” and continued on with a wave of his hand.

Kordus went back to the receptionist. “What?” he asked impatiently.

“Sir, the vice president is still in the Oval Office,” she said, “and he just asked to speak with the president of Russia!”

Kordus’s face went blank, and then his mouth dropped open in shock. “Call the president, now, and cancel Phoenix ’s request to talk with Truznyev!” he shouted, ru

President Gardner strode into the Oval Office a few minutes later, finding the vice president and Chief of Staff Walter Kordus standing next to the president’s desk. “What the hell is going on here?” he asked. “What are you still doing here, Ken?”

“The vice president put in a call to President Truznyev from the Oval Office, sir,” Kordus said. “I canceled it.”

“What?” Gardner thundered. “You asked to speak with the president of Russia, without my permission, from my office? Are you insane, Ken? That’s a criminal offense! You can be impeached for that! What-”