Everyone filed out of the room, a few exchanging shoulder pats and best wishes.
Ryan didn’t rise from his chair. Mary Pat took that as her cue to stay. When it was just the two of them, he said, “I feel like a coach whose team just played the game of their lives but ended up in a tie.”
“I think we won. The question is, what’s tomorrow’s game plan?”
Ryan shook his head. “I don’t know. I feel like we need to respond militarily. But I can’t figure a way to justify it, and I don’t want to start World War Three.”
“I think it’s Yermilov’s move. Let’s see how he handles his damage control.”
Ryan heaved a sigh and stood. “Okay. But if he doesn’t do something by midday tomorrow…then it’s my move.”
70
Marine One
South Lawn
The White House
1027 Local Time
Marine One lifted off gracefully and arced out over the Potomac, leaving the White House and National Mall behind. The morning was clear and cool.
Jack Ryan looked down at the river from his forward-facing executive chair. Mary Pat was across from him in an aft-facing seat, her phone pressed to her ear. As had been the case all morning, she was tallying up the aftermath of yesterday’s “Attack on the Suez.” That had become the media’s tagline.
Ryan had just adjourned the morning NSC meeting. The council had met for an hour to discuss various responses to the attack. Diplomatic, military, the intelligence agencies—everything was on the table. There was not yet a consensus on how to proceed.
The story had been a moving target since early yesterday. There was no denying what had happened off the coast of Egypt. Footage of one Navy pilot’s aerobatics had gone viral overnight. A farmworker had uploaded the video: taken in the barest of dawnlight, the silhouette of a Hornet could be seen flying at extremely low altitude with its wingtip nudging a drone back out to sea. Ryan was no aviation expert, but the talking heads on television were playing it up as one of the greatest feats of airmanship they’d ever witnessed.
The DoD had no choice but to issue a communique, and a statement was released lauding the pilots for stopping an attack on the Suez Canal. The State Department followed up, verifying that the drones had been launched from a small airfield in the Maghreb, now under lockdown by various authorities. State also confirmed that a radiological agent had been involved, and while measurements were ongoing, it was believed that all hazardous radiation had fallen into the sea where it would eventually dissipate.
President Jack Ryan would provide further details this evening: he was set to speak to the nation, a prime-time address covering the attempted attack on the Suez and America’s ongoing response. The one great unknown—the question of who was responsible for the chaos—had not yet been addressed.
The NSC had touched on a host of other issues at this morning’s meeting, including the loss of Captain Hooper, and how best to recover the remains of a CIA Gulfstream jet and the drones inserted by Hyperion. When the meeting ended, Ryan exited to the South Lawn.
He had decided to spend part of his day at home. Cathy had called early this morning, their ritual daily conversation, and she suggested that he return to the house to decompress for part of the day. It sounded wonderful. Ryan had been “presidenting” at the White House for nearly a week, and his stress level was off the charts. He’d promised Cathy he would make it happen, with the caveat that he would have to spend time working on his address to the nation.
“This cesium is apparently unique,” said Mary Pat, interrupting Ryan’s cluttered thoughts.
“Ah…unique in what way?” he asked.
“Only one manufacturer on earth makes this isotope in the volume used in the strike.”
“Let me guess…a Russian company?”
“The Mayak Production Association. It’s Russia’s main industrial facility for the production of radionuclides, which have legitimate uses in medicine and industry.”
“And now, apparently, shutting down canals.”
“CIA uncovered something interesting. About two months ago, Mayak filed a report with the IAEA claiming they’d lost track of thirty barrels of radioactive cesium chloride.” The International Atomic Energy Agency was the world’s nuclear policeman. “Mayak implied it was likely no more than a clerical error, and the agency has been waiting for the results of a promised audit. Given what IAEA has on its plate, dealing with the likes of Iran and North Korea, I’m not surprised they put it on a back burner.”
“Sounds like a perfect bit of stagecraft to me,” Ryan mused. “Russia can claim the material was stolen, and also say they reported it like a responsible nation.”
“That would be my take. We’re going to watch for anything else that fits this profile. We have a report of a Panamax vessel taking on a cargo containing medical isotopes in the port of Vostochnyy. So far there’s nothing linking it to Mayak.”
“You’ll keep an eye on it?”
“Of course.”
