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Florentyna could feel her mouth go dry. The Russian President continued before she could reply.
“In California, no doubt.” It didn’t surprise Florentyna that the Russian President knew more about Parkin’s habits than she did. It was now obvious why the Russians had chosen ten o’clock to cross the Pakistan border.
“You’re right,” said Florentyna. “And as he will be indisposed for at least another two hours you will have to deal with me. I therefore wish you to be left in no doubt that I am taking full Presidential responsibility in his absence.” She could feel small beads of sweat, but didn’t dare to touch her forehead.
“I see,” said the former head of the KGB. “Then may I ask what is the purpose of this call?”
“Don’t be naive, Mr. President. I want you to understand that if you put one member of your armed forces over the border with Pakistan, America will retaliate immediately.”
“That would be very brave of you, Mrs. Kane,” he said.
“You obviously don’t understand the American political system, Mr. President. It requires no ‘bravery’ at all. As Vice President I am the one person in America who has nothing to lose and everything to gain.” This time the silence was not of her making. Florentyna felt her confidence growing. He had given her the chance to continue before he could reply. “If you do not turn your battle fleet south, withdraw all ten army divisions from the border with Pakistan and fly your MIG 25s and SU 7’s back to Moscow, I shall not hesitate to attack you on land, sea and in the air. Do you understand?”
The phone went dead.
Florentyna swiveled around.
By now the room was abuzz again with professionals who had previously only played “games” in this situation and now waited like Florentyna to see if all their training, experience and knowledge were about to be tested.
Ralph Brooks held a hand over the mouthpiece of his phone and reported that the President had landed in Colorado and wanted to speak to Florentyna. She picked up the red security phone by her side.
“Florentyna? Is that you?” came from the phone in a broad Texas accent.
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Now hear me, lady. Ralph has briefed me and I am on my way back immediately. Don’t do anything rash—and be sure the press doesn’t get to hear of my absence.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” The phone went dead.
“General Dixon?” she said, not bothering to look at Brooks.
“Yes, ma’am,” said the four-star general who had not spoken until then.
“How quickly can we mobilize a retaliatory force into the battle area?” she asked the chief of staff.
“Within the hour. I could have ten squadrons of Fills in the air, out of our bases in Europe and Turkey, but it would take me all of three days for the Mediterranean fleet to make contact with the Russians.”
“How long would it be before the fleet reached the Indian Ocean?”
“Two or three days, ma’am.”
“Then issue the order and make it two, General.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said General Dixon again, and left the Situation Room for the Operations Room.
Florentyna didn’t have to wait long for the next report to come up on the screen. It was the one she feared most. The Russian fleet still plowed on relentlessly toward Karachi while more and more Soviet divisions were missing at Salabad and Asadabadon on the Afghanistan border.
“Get me the President of Pakistan,” said Florentyna.
He was on the line in moments. “Where is President Parkin?” was his first question.
“Not you as well?” Florentyna wanted to say, but in fact replied, “On his way back from Camp David. He will be with us shortly.” She briefed him on the actions she had taken to date and made it clear how far she was still willing to go.
“Thank God for one brave man,” said Murbaze Bhutto.
“Just stay on the open line and we’ll keep you briefed if anything changes,” said Florentyna, ignoring the compliment.
“Shall I get the Russian President back?” asked Ralph Brooks.
“No,” said Florentyna. “Get me the Prime Minister of Britain, the President of France and the Chancellor of West Germany.”
She checked her watch: 7:35. Within twenty minutes Florentyna had spoken to all three leaders. The British agreed to her plan, the Germans were skeptical but would cooperate, while the French were unhelpful.
The next piece of information Florentyna received was that Russian MIG 25s at Kabul military airport were being prepared for takeoff.
Immediately she ordered General Dixon to place all forces on standby. Brooks leaned forward to protest, but by then all those present had placed their careers in the hands of one woman. Many of them watched her closely and noted she showed no emotion.
General Dixon came back into the Situation Room. “Ma’am, the F111s are now ready for takeoff, the Sixth Fleet is steaming full speed toward the Indian Ocean and a brigade of paratroopers can be dropped at Landi Kotap on to the border of Pakistan within two hours.”
“Good,” said Florentyna quietly. The Telex continued to rap out the message that the Russians were still advancing on every front.
“Don’t you think we should renew contact with the Soviet President before it’s too late?” asked Brooks. Florentyna noticed that his hands were shaking.
“Why should we contact Andropov? I have nothing to say to him. If we turn back now it will always be too late,” said Florentyna quietly.
“But we must try to negotiate a compromise, or by this time tomorrow the President will look like a jackass,” said Brooks, standing over her.
“Why?” asked Florentyna.
“Because in the end you will have to give in.”
Florentyna made no reply but swiveled back in her chair to face General Dixon, who was standing by her side.
“In one hour, ma’am, we will be in enemy airspace.”
“Understood,” said Florentyna.
Ralph Brooks picked up the ringing phone by his side. General Dixon returned to the Operations Room.
“The President is preparing to land at Andrews Air Force Base. He’ll be with us in twenty minutes,” Brooks told Florentyna. “Talk to the Russians and tell
them to back off until he returns.”
“No,” said Florentyna. “If the Russians don’t turn back now you can be certain they will let the whole world know exactly where the President was at the moment they crossed the Afghanistan border. In any case, I am still convinced they will turn back.”
“You’ve gone mad, Florentyna,” he shouted, rising from his chair.
“I don’t think I have ever been saner,” she retorted.
“Do you imagine the American people will thank you for involving them in a war over Pakistan?” asked Brooks.
“It’s not Pakistan we’re discussing,” replied Florentyna. “India would be next, followed by Turkey, Greece, Italy, Britain and finally Canada. And you, Ralph, would still be looking for excuses to avoid any confrontation even when the Soviets were marching down Constitution Avenue.”
“If that’s your attitude, I wash my hands of the whole affair,” said Brooks.
“And no doubt you will receive the same footnote in history as the last person who carried out that ignominious act.”
“Then I shall tell the President you overruled me and countermanded my orders,” said Brooks, his voice rising with every word.
Florentyna looked up at the handsome man who was now red in the face. “Ralph, if you’re going to wet your pants, can you please do it in the little boys’ room and not the Situation Room.”
Brooks stormed out. General Dixon returned.
“Twenty-seven minutes to go and still no sign of the Russians turning back,” whispered the chairman of the joint chiefs. A message came through on the Telex that the fifty MIG 25s and SU7s were taking off and would be in Pakistan airspace within thirty-four minutes.
