Dale Brown - Executive Intent

“ China is definitely the victim here so far, sir,” Colby said. “Everyone believes it was Islamist retaliation for the Chinese attacks against the pirates in Somalia. They’re surprised and maybe dismayed at the Chinese air attacks in the city, but I think everyone will give China the benefit of the doubt as long as the attacks cease right away. The Russian ambassador is popular and seen as a neutral arbiter.”

“What’s the bottom line, Marcus?” the president asked impatiently.

“You’ll have to veto to defeat the measure, sir,” Colby said. “Everyone else except Great Britain will vote in favor, and I don’t think they will veto. You can abstain or vote no, but if it passes it’ll look bad that the measure passed without the United States ’ concurrence.”

“Swell.” The president caught Kordus looking at his watch-he had to leave right away to keep to the campaign schedule. “Okay, Marcus, go ahead and vote in favor. I’ll be airborne in thirty minutes-you can update me then.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

Gardner tossed the phone back to Kordus. “I told Marcus to vote in favor. As long as China stops their little hissy fit, I don’t care if a few Russian marines look tough in Yemen.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll brief Secretary Barbeau and Conrad on the way to Andrews. The vice president is in the Oval Office.”

“Let’s go.” The president made sure his golf clothes were in the suitcase, closed it up, and strode out-the staff would bring anything else he needed for the other events, but as long as he was ready for a half round of golf with the Arizona candidates and the photo ops that followed, he was satisfied.

Vice President Ken Phoenix met him in the hallway outside the Oval Office. “Good morning, Mr. President,” he said, looking far too chipper for Gardner ’s mood. He followed the president into the Oval Office. “The Security Council meeting…?”

“The Council moved to allow Russian marines to set up security in the city to allow China to get their ship and casualties out,” Gardner said, checking messages on his PDA, leaving a few messages for his secretary, then straightening his tie in preparation for greeting onlookers before heading for the South Lawn to board Marine One. “I told Colby to vote in favor.”

“In favor of allowing armed Russian marines in Yemen?” Phoenix asked incredulously.

“In favor of getting China to stop bombing the city, getting their sailors out, and putting everything back to normal,” the president said impatiently. “The council was pretty solid for the measure.”

“The Russian marines are from that Putin carrier task force in the Gulf of Aden?”

“I guess.”

“So the Russians and Chinese will have carriers in the Gulf of Aden, with troops on the ground in both Somalia and Yemen, and the closest counterforce we have is in the Arabian Sea?”

“The chopper’s waiting, Ken. What’s the problem?”

“We could have stalled the vote until we moved the Reagan carrier group closer,” Phoenix said.

“Why would we do that? There’s already too many freakin’ carriers in the Gulf of Aden already.”

“The United States controls the world’s oceans, sir-you’ve said that a thousand times,” Phoenix argued. “But right now there are two foreign aircraft-carrier battle groups in a very strategic location, and we have none. We’ve lost the advantage out there.”

“We haven’t lost anything, Ken. What we did was stop China from bombing Aden.”

“ China was running out of legitimate targets with their fighter-bombers anyway-they were going to have to stop on their own,” Phoenix said. “We could have vetoed-”

“I don’t like overusing the veto, Ken. You know that.”

“At the very least we could have voted no and registered our disapproval.”

“But I don’t disapprove,” the president said. “It’s a couple hundred Russians-hell, they were probably going to be in Aden anyway on shore leave.”

“Except now they’ll have guns and a mandate from the United Nations Security Council!”

“I don’t see a problem, Ken,” Gardner insisted. “We’ll keep an eye on them, and if they step out of line, we’ll slam them.”

“Perhaps sending some other forces out there would show everyone we’re watching,” Phoenix said. “Maybe an Air Force bomber to overfly the Russian and Chinese fleets, take a few pictures, show the flag?”

“Like that mysterious B-1 bomber squadron that attacked that base in Turkey?”

“Mysterious? I understood you ordered the attack on Diyarbakir; I briefed you on the mission myself. Next thing I knew, it was over.”

The president didn’t want to tell Phoenix that he ended up taking responsibility for the mission, even though he did not order it-another end run around the law and the chain of command performed by none other than Patrick McLanahan, with help by his secret mentor, former president Kevin Martindale. “Never mind. Yes, that squadron. I’ll ask Conrad and Miller to make some suggestions. What else is going on?”

“We’ll have a draft of the new space policy drawn up by the end of the day,” the vice president replied. “I’m still not for a unilateral ban on antisatellite weapons, but all the other provisions you were looking for are in there.”

“Excellent. Fast work,” the president said. “I’m willing to discuss the unilateral ban, but I think it’ll send the right message to other space-faring nations- America is not out to control space.” He noticed Kordus nodding at him, motioning toward the door. “I’ve got to go, Ken. I’ll talk to you on the staff conference call.” He shook hands with Phoenix, turned on a heel, and departed without another word.

On board Marine One, the helicopter that would take him from the White House South Lawn to Andrews Air Force Base, the president fastened his seat belt, then checked his secure PDA again for any messages. As they lifted off, Chief of Staff Kordus held up a note. “We found something.”

“On what or whom?”

“McLanahan,” Kordus said. “We knew that McLanahan was a director for a nonprofit think tank and education foundation called Progress for Space and Military Future Policy. McLanahan has given several unpaid speeches around the country to industry and civil-military advocacy groups on behalf of this group, touting increased awareness and funding for military space programs, acceleration of military space development, blah blah.”

“So?”

“One of my clever staffers noticed that the initials of the organization could stand for ‘Patrick S. McLanahan for President.’” Gardner rolled his eyes and gave a short chuckle. “I know, I know: pretty thin. So I checked some more on the organization. Turns out they aren’t a nonprofit-they’re more like a not-for-profit.”

“They’re the same thing.”

“True, but they never registered as a charitable or educational organization.”

“So monies they take in aren’t distributed to shareholders but stay in the organization, like an-”

“Exploratory committee,” Kordus finished for him. “So we took a peek at the group’s bank-account balance…and it’s huge. We then looked at their filed list of officers and directors. All the big-time military and political players of the last decade, including Page, Goff, Venti, Morgan, Busick; even Thomas Thorn is on there, the list goes on and on.”

“Sounds like a new Trilateral Commission.”

“You bet it does. At the very end of the list-”

“ Phoenix?”

“No. He would have had to disclose that and resign from it, but he never belonged as far as we know. The big name on there: Martindale.”

“Kevin Martindale?”

“The one and only,” Kordus said. “The guy is a Washington institution-two-term vice president, two-term president, connected up the ying-yang. You can’t have a more powerful ally. It’s practically a ready-made cabinet.”