The White House
Washington, D.C.
1336 Local Time
Jack Ryan hurried down to the Situation Room. Mary Pat had called an immediate meeting of the National Security Council, which was something she never did lightly. He’d had no reservations whatsoever about cutting short a meeting with the Federal Reserve chairman regarding inflation. The nuts and bolts of running America had to be addressed, but rarely were such matters time-critical. The world was a dangerous place and security was job one.
He double-timed down the steps to the basement of the West Wing, his protection detail trotting to keep up. Ryan walked into the recently redesigned Situation Room, commonly referred to as “the whizzer,” to find less than the full NSC Principals Committee. Aside from Mary Pat, he saw Arnie van Damm, SecState Adler, SecDef Burgess, and JCS chairman Kent. It was the middle of a workday, and that was who had been in the building. The rest of the NSC, all en route, had responded with ETAs.
Mary Pat, clearly not in the mood to wait, began as soon as Ryan was seated—one more indicator that something big had dropped. She called up a map on the big wall-mounted screen, and said, “Cyber Cell 6 has distinguished an event in eastern Turkey. This comes from a new AI system designed to recognize time-sensitive intelligence.”
“MAADN?” the President asked.
“That’s right. And it seems to be working well. Less than half an hour ago, a Turkish army Black Hawk crashed in a remote area east of Ankara. We’ve heard nothing about it through official channels yet, so I sent a message to the Turks advising them of the situation. But I didn’t tell them everything. We have a brief window to coordinate a response of our own.”
“A response to what?” asked Arnie van Damm who, as ever, looked like his shirt and trousers had missed a cycle in the dryer.
“If MAADN’s analysis is correct, this aircraft was shot down by a surface-to-air missile—unknown type, but probably shoulder-launched.” Mary Pat detailed the search the Turks had been performing, and how they’d classified an eastbound vehicle as a target of interest. She added that two other vehicles had been in the area.
“So the Turks believed this truck was responsible for shooting down SAM 719?” Burgess asked.
“They’ve been chasing every lead they can find. This one started out as a long shot, basically a traffic stop. They were throwing darts and hoping to hit something. But it looks like they nailed it. The attack on this Black Hawk is damning, and MAADN has been gathering supporting data ever since. Without getting into the weeds, what I’ve seen is a slam dunk—the people in these vehicles are responsible for killing John Moore and the others.”
“Any idea who they are?” Ryan asked.
“Not yet, but MAADN is tracking them via satellite. The three vehicles are still together, so they’re definitely working as a unit. Right now, they’re headed east, and fast, which implies an egress. In front of them are the borders of a number of countries who are not necessarily our friends: Syria, Iran, Iraq, Georgia, Armenia.”
“Now there’s a pit of vipers,” Admiral Kent mused.
“Given the way the track is leaning, I’m guessing it’s either Georgia or Armenia.”
“Both of which are gateways to Russia,” the President said.
“True. But at the moment, we can only speculate. We’ve advised the Turks that their Black Hawk has gone down, and first responders are on the way. But I didn’t mention that we’ve got a live track on the shooters.”
SecDef Burgess said, “Are you implying thatweshould go after these vehicles?”
“It’ll be tight, but I think we can reach them before they cross any border.” Mary Pat looked at the President.
“Task Force 99?” he surmised.
“I moved them in theater for just this kind of contingency.”
The SecDef said, “They’d need transportation to catch up. We’ve always got helos of some kind at Incirlik Air Base, but I’m not sure which models.”
“Actually,” Mary Pat said, “I took liberties on that count. I checked to see what was on the ramp at Incirlik. The Air Force’s 427th Special Operations Squadron has had an aircraft there for two weeks, a C-41A.”
“Refresh me on that one,” Ryan said.
“We’ve only got a few of them. It’s a light twin-engine transport, made by CASA in Spain. Strictly a spec ops mission, short takeoff and landing—with a little headwind, it can put down ten operators and equipment on a runway no longer than a football field. TaskForce 99 is holed up outside Bodrum, but since we didn’t know when or where they might be needed, I had this C-41 and a crew pre-position to Bodrum. They’re on standby and ready to go.”
All eyes went to the President. The DNI had everything arranged, a forceful response waiting on a silver platter. But on a mission so delicate, so fraught with diplomatic risk, Ryan knew the final call had to be his.
“All right,” he said. “Give Clark the green light. I also want a list of what other assets we have in the area. Navy in the Med, Air Force at Incirlik, Istanbul station, everything. If this blows up into something bigger, we need to be ready.”
The DNI hesitated ever so slightly. It was a tic Ryan had seen before, although rarely. And it always presaged terrible news.
She said, “Now that you’ve got the big picture, Mr. President, there is one further consideration. MAADN unearthed the military flight plan filed by the Black Hawk’s pilots. There was a crew of three on board, all of whose names were listed. Yet there was also one observer on the flight. The observer’s name wasn’t given—they were simply listed as a Unites States naval officer.”
