Charles Taylor - Show of Force

As they began to climb the rounded, time-worn steps, a senior officer fell in step beside them without a word. Collier had mounted these cold stone steps many times and knew his way down the dark, hollow ringing corridors from many visits. Each time he had always been politely escorted as they were now. They were led through the massive wooden doors of the anteroom to Gorenko's office, where they were motioned to sit. It was next to the operations room, where Gorenko preferred that his aides work. That served as a communications and command center, and also provided an entrance into Gorenko's office from a side door. That was how they would be announced.

Within moments, their escort appeared from another door, the main entrance to Gorenko's office, and announced in perfect English, "The Admiral will see you now." Collier responded in Russian, drawing the man's eyes to his own for just a split second.

Admiral Pietr Gorenko had prepared for this meeting. He moved from behind his desk to greet his guests, extending both hands in greeting, a slight smile on his hard face. "Ambassador Simpson, I'm so pleased you could join us." And then, turning to Collier, "And Admiral Collier, I thank you for requesting this meeting. I'm sure you have been feeling as uncomfortable as I have with the current events." His English was halting, and he pronounced his words with a heavy accent, but he had made an effort to soften his guests. As he moved behind his own desk, he gestured them into chairs on the opposite side.

"We appreciate the opportunity to discuss these grave matters with you, Admiral," replied Simpson. "However, I'd like to suggest that the conversation be in your native language. You are aware that Admiral Collier speaks Russian almost as well as English, and I feel that will make it easier for all of us. If necessary, he will stop to translate for me on occasion." He paused for a moment as the smile left Gorenko's face. The Russian tilted his head slightly to one side, as if to ask a question, but Simpson held up a hand. "Oh, don't worry about me. I understand enough of your language to get by, and Admiral Collier has been authorized to act in my behalf." Again he paused, to make sure the Russian understood, then added, "He has my complete confidence."

Gorenko's brows furled together. He stared first at the American Ambassador, then at the naval officer in full uniform, including medals. This was not the way it had been planned. They had felt that Ambassador Simpson, without instructions from Washington, would be dealing blind. While they knew he was strong, they thought he might be essentially ignorant of Islas Piedras and the military situation, thereby making statements or commitments that could be to their advantage. After all, he had been appointed by a President they had little regard for.

On the other hand, they respected Collier. He had impressed both military and civilian personnel he had been in contact with since he arrived in Moscow. They were pleased he spoke their language and that he did not hesitate to say what he thought. But it quickly became evident that he was a difficult man in both political and military discussions, a hard-liner.

"All right." Gorenko's face softened. "I thank you for this courtesy since your Russian is better than my English." He smiled — and nodded in the direction of Simpson, who nodded back and mouthed a few words of acknowledgment in Russian.

"Let us be honest with each other," Gorenko began. "You cannot communicate with Washington at this time. I don't begin to know what may have passed during your earlier conversations via your satellite, but you haven't been able to talk in confidence with anyone in Washington since after midnight. You know exactly how these communications were interrupted, and that it was done in retaliation for interference with our own satellites."

"Admiral Gorenko. I have no information concerning anything that might have happened to your satellite systems," began Collier, "nor do I know if anything has. I cannot say necessarily that you have any reason for retaliation, but we are officially protesting interference with our normal communications. That is a factor that could eventually come before the U.N."

"It's nothing you can back up, I'm afraid. I assure you that your own country was the provocateur, and I'm sure we both have a similar attitude toward the U.N. But if you are so upset, I will pick up this phone," he gestured at one of those on his desk, "and ask that a special phone system be set up at the embassy immediately."

"There's no need to be condescending, Admiral Gorenko. We both know that's not what we are looking for. We will restore our own contact with Washington in a short time, maybe a few hours," Collier added. "What we are really here to discuss is your Chairman's speech concerning Islas Piedras." He stopped, waiting for Gorenko's reaction.

"Your Trident base, Admiral Collier," and he also nodded in the ambassador's direction, "and Mr. Simpson, is a matter of concern to the Soviet Union as the leader of the Asian countries, and in respect to our many allies on the Indian Ocean. In simple terms, if I might, we consider it bordering on an act of war. You are establishing a base for nuclear submarines… warships…" he gestured with his right hand, index finger pointing in the air, "… with nuclear missiles where you aren't wanted. The United States does not now, nor in the future, belong in the Indian Ocean for reasons other than commerce. Quite simply, you have been asked by the Chairman, in a speech before the countries of the world, to admit your error in judgment and remove yourselves from Islas Piedras, first dismantling your Trident base there." His pointing hand dropped back to his desk, grasping the free one.

Collier paused for a moment, not willing to respond to the other man's language until he had collected his thoughts. He first had to condition his mind to think in Russian, so he asked Gorenko's patience while he translated to the ambassador. Then, before Simpson could respond, he turned to Gorenko. "May we ask why you failed to contact the embassy before that speech was made? Simple diplomacy would have been all that was required."

"Admiral Collier," Gorenko began, "if you were in a crowd of people, and one of those people raised a shotgun toward your head and cocked it, would you call attention to your predicament or ask that man with the gun to sit down and reason with you?" No response. "Would you not also assume that if the man fired at you, it would be likely that he then might turn his Weapon on others? And that they, knowing this could be the end result, might offer you assistance immediately?"

Very quietly, Collier replied, "We are not holding a gun to your head."

It was Gorenko's turn to say nothing. After a moment's hesitation to assure himself there would be no answer, Collier continued. "Islas Piedras is an American possession. There is no doubt about that. The world knows that we have Trident submarines operating in the Indian Ocean. It offers an excellent base for replenishment of those craft, not to mention any of our surface forces operating there. That is no more of a threat to you than the base at Holy Loch, Scotland, is to the British."

Gorenko's face was rarely anything but passive, an expressionless visage that never hinted what he was thinking. Now color crept into his cheeks. His eyes narrowed slightly. His lower lip quivered just a bit. "Do you take me for an idiot, Admiral Collier?" His right arm had slowly been lifting into the air, and now it came down with force, the slap of his hand echoing through the room. "Do you, Ambassador Simpson?" He half-raised himself from his chair. "That is no Trident supply base on Islas Piedras." His hand slapped down on the desk again with even more force. "You didn't believe that part of the speech any more than I did. And," his lower lip shook just a bit more as he made a great effort to control his rage, "you did not come here to ask us to retract our statements, either." His hand went once more in the air, this time stopping to level his finger at the ambassador. "What are you pointing at our heads, Mr. Simpson?"