State Of The Union

“Those are some pretty big shoes to fill,” answered Harvath.

The president smiled. “I’ve already talked it over with Gary, and he agrees with me that there’s nobody better suited to do it. Just don’t get too comfortable. He’ll be back to work before you know it.”

“I’m looking forward to that. Thank you, Mr. President. I’ll do my best.” Sensing that the meeting was over, Harvath added, “Is there anything else, Mr. President?”

The president looked at his watch and indicated that Harvath should remain seated. Fifteen seconds later, the voice of Charles Anderson, the president’s chief of staff came over the speaker phone and said, “Mr. President, I have President Nevkin of Russia on the line.”

“Good,” responded Rutledge. “Put him through.”

“President Rutledge. Jack,” came the voice of the Russian president over the speaker phone. “You certainly have taken your time in getting back to me.”

“As you are well aware, we’ve been a little busy here.”

“So I have seen on the news, but so busy that you were not able to return my phone calls?”

“President Nevkin,” said Rutledge, “Let’s not waste each other’s time. Tomorrow afternoon at approximately 1300 GMT, an American C-130 is going to land on the Valhalla Ice Shelf three miles below the North Pole. Onboard will be the man-portable nuclear devices you planted in our country.”

“But, Jack, I told you they were stolen by the-” began Nevkin.

“Chechens, I remember. We also have eighteen sleeper agents from your country in custody complete with enough evidence to bury you for the next two hundred years.”

“These aren’t Russian agents. Whomever you have caught are terrorists,” replied the Russian president. “Plain and simple.”

“Terrorists,” laughed Rutledge, “If that’s what you’re calling your disavowed agents, that’s fine by me. But you and I both know who they are, why they were here, and who sent them.”

“This comes as a complete shock,” said Nevkin. “If it does turn out that these ‘sleepers’ as you call them were indeed sent by someone in Russia, I can guarantee you that I had no idea that-”

Rutledge was sick of listening to the Russian president’s BS and said, “No more lies, Dmitri. You made your move and you lost. There is going to be a very heavy price to pay for what your country has done. And believe me, Russia is going to pay it, whether you like it or not. In the days ahead, against my better judgment, I am going to exhibit tremendous restraint. That said, I suggest you get out of Moscow for a bit. I’ll give you my personal guarantee that your villa on the Black Sea won’t be targeted.”

The Russian president was aghast. “Certainly,” he implored, “you are not going to conduct a nuclear strike against the Russian Federation.”

“No,” replied Rutledge, “but we are going to respond. And whatever we do, you are going to absorb it without retaliation.”

“Jack how can you expect-”

“That’sMr. President to you,” said Rutledge. “You thought you could hold the United States of America hostage and you were wrong, dead wrong. Now it’s time to pay the piper. I’ll extend you the courtesy of telling you that we are only targeting military and governmental assets. You have twelve hours to get your people out. You brought this upon yourself and if you even think of engaging any of our fighter aircraft or attempt to shoot down any of our missiles I will not only double, but treble our retaliation. Is this clear?”

There was a long moment of silence before the Russian president responded, “Yes, it is clear.”

Rutledge disconnected the call and turned to Harvath. “So? How’d I do?”

“Perfect. I couldn’t have handled it better myself.”

“I’m glad you agree,” responded Rutledge. “Now get upstairs and enjoy yourself. No disappearing out the back door.”

Scot stood from his chair. “Is that an order, sir?”

“You’d better believe it.”

“Then I’m on my way.”

Epilogue

CORONADO, CALIFORNIA

TWO MONTHS LATER

Though it was two months overdue, it was finally the fitting memorial service Maureen Harvath had envisioned to mark the ten years since the passing of her husband, Michael.

The day had been long and emotional. After dropping Mrs. Harvath back at home, Scot, Meg, and Gary returned to the Hotel Del Coronado. While Gary had been given permission by his doctors to travel, he still wasn’t back to full speed and declined joining Scot and Meg for a drink in the bar.

Scot ordered a margarita for himself and a glass of wine for Meg, and when their drinks arrived, they took them outside. The sun was just beginning to set as they took off their shoes and walked down to the Hotel Del’s white sand beach.