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There is no man whose choices are more impactful. With one word, Brennan can defend or destroy countless lives.
And because of that, he bears a greater responsibility than anyone else to preserve the world’s peace. He has to be bigger. He has to be better.
It is an excruciating position.
“Launch the SEALs,” he says. “Get her out of there. Quietly.”
“Mr. President—” McClintock protests.
“If we escalate this, we turn Kirilov into the mythic hero he imagines himself to be. I am not going to feed his fantasies, Dean.”
Silence fills the Situation Room, into every shadowed corner.
McClintock’s nostrils flare. Marshall leans back, his features disappearing from the conference table’s light, leaving only his hands slowly spinning a pen.
I’m too frozen to fracture the stillness by breathing. From the corner of my eye, I see Henry swallow. I hear Sheridan’s heart pounding.
“Our military is the finest in the world. Our SEALs are more than capable of rescuing Captain Wilkes, and we, the United States, are more than capable of finding a way through this that doesn’t end in an all-out war with Russia by dawn. We have an opportunity tonight. Let’s not squander it.”
It takes McClintock a full five seconds to say, “Yes, Mr. President.”
“Patrick, I want you to reach out and see if there are any forces in the area we can call on for backup. I don’t want to tip our hand, but if our people need the cavalry, I want them ready.”
“NATO, sir?” Marshall asks.
“No, let’s keep this one quieter than that. Call the UK. We’ll keep this one close.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Bob.” He turns to the secretary of defense. “Rapidly deploy our quick reaction forces to our new FOBs in Eastern Europe. Kirilov needs to see that we’re ready to fight and have the numbers to do so. He needs to know that the burden of escalation is on him. If he wants to start a war, he has to take the first step.”
“Hasn’t he already, Mr. President?” McClintock grunts.
“You tell me, Dean. If we can get Captain Wilkes out alive without starting a war that will kill millions, isn’t that a better outcome?”
McClintock’s face twists. He glares at the darkness.
“Are you so eager to watch missiles destroy American cities?” Brennan asks.
Sheridan’s breath trembles. Henry’s eyes slide past him and meet mine.
“Let’s get this done.” Brennan rises.
The Situation Room goes from unnatural stillness to a tornado of activity. Marshall and Shannon leave first, their heads together. Sheridan follows, but before he leaves, he gives me a look I can’t understand. I’m not sure what I’m seeing, and the dim light erases more than it reveals. I catch that hard, dark edge to his normally bright eyes, an echo of when we were running on the Mall and when we were shooting at Rowley.
Sometimes, in this job, our past leaps out at us and grabs us by the throat, but there’s no time to deal with it in the moment. That’s why we’re supposed to know each other inside and out, so we can trust each other all the way to our marrow.
I should know what that look means.
Henry doesn’t leave until McClintock and the secretary of defense do. He’s not supposed to be in here anyway, but he was checking on me and Sheridan and I give him the space to slip out silently. If I’d needed him, I could have put everything into his hands. He would have covered for me with no questions asked.
Brennan knows when it’s time to let the experts do their work, when his questions turn from direction and guidance to micromanagement and interference. He tells the room he’ll be in the Oval. I hold the door for him, and volumes pass between our eyes.
He spends the rest of the night in the West Wing. I stay by his side, and I’m with him when dawn brings McClintock and Marshall into the Oval. The rising sun reveals the haggard lines, the shadows on both men’s faces. They stand in front of the Resolute desk, and their words spill like poison.
“Mr. President—” McClintock’s eyes close. His jowls tremble. “I’m sorry. The mission was a failure. We did not locate Captain Wilkes, and we lost four of our SEALs.”
Brennan bows his head over his clasped hands. Sunlight breaks through the windows, painting the walls and the great American seal in a golden glow. Birds in the Rose Garden call back and forth, and voices echo down the West Wing hallways.
