Crossing Savage (29 page)

Chapter 28

October 14

Washington, D.C.

Señor Santos, please understand
the importance of this conversation. I do not have time for pleasantries, so I'll get to the point.” Paul Bryan could not afford to waste time on small talk.

Angelo Rivero Santos was the Minister Counselor Chargé d´Affaires for the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela, stationed for the past three years at his country's embassy in Washington, D.C. As the highest ranking diplomat for his country, he was sitting in the office of the secretary of state, enjoying a cup of strong, dark coffee—100 percent Kona beans from the Big Island of Hawaii—during a rare meeting.

Señor Santos set his cup down, pursing his lips.
Hmm.
He had assumed that this unexpected meeting might signal a slight shift toward re-establishing normal relations. He could tell by the tone of Paul Bryan's statement that his assumption was way off.

“By all means, Mr. Secretary, please continue.” The chargé d´affaires had a smile on his face—a mask that came easily to diplomats as well as politicians.

Paul Bryan was seated, and he leaned back in his chair, contemplating the professional diplomat seated across from him. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully.

“On September 26, a terrorist team led by General Pablo Ramirez attempted to assassinate seven civilians on U.S. soil. They were defeated but not before they murdered a U.S. marshal.”

Bryan paused to let his words sink in.

“I do not recall reading anything of this in the papers. But I am pleased to hear that the attempt was not completely successful.” He raised his cup and noisily sipped in the hot coffee, swishing the liquid and savoring the rich flavor.

Bryan flashed a quick smile. He understood this was part of the game. He was leading Santos exactly as planned.

“Thank you. And did you know that General Pablo Ramirez was acting on behalf of the government of Venezuela?”

He nearly spit the liquid out. “What did you say? That is not possible!”

“Oh, I assure you it is, Señor Santos.” The secretary of state hesitated for a second. “Although I don't know you well at all, I have no reason to doubt your character. That's why I requested this meeting with you.”

Santos had put down his coffee cup and frowned. Should he be insulted by this accusation? But why would the secretary of state tell him this? It didn't add up.

“Mr. Secretary. Venezuela is not a terrorist state!”

“Calm yourself, Señor Santos. I am seeking your help.”

“I do not understand what you are talking about. Nor do I understand what you want of me.”

“The answer is simple. My country has unimpeachable evidence that the government of Venezuela has been orchestrating a series of terrorist attacks on scientific researchers for at least the past year, very likely longer. Many civilians have been murdered. We know that the bombing of the Hedberg Conference in Caracas was carried out with the explicit support of your government.

“To bring these actions to a halt—immediately—my government is ready to launch a decisive military strike against strategic assets of your country.”

Bryan paused again. He wanted to be sure Señor Santos was absorbing the full ramifications of his message.

“Señor Santos, I am sure you understand the capability of the United States military. But unfortunately, precision weapons—bombs, missiles—cannot guarantee that innocent lives will not be lost. I don't want that to happen. Do you?”

“Certainly not, Mr. Secretary!” His voice was raised, and his eyes widened.
Would America really take military action against his country?
Then he quickly remembered the invasions of Panama and Grenada.

“Good, I'm glad to hear that. I need your help to avoid the military option. Are you willing to lend assistance?”

“Mr. Secretary, understand that I am a patriot, loyal to my country. Having said that, I am eager to lend any diplomatic assistance, as you say, that might defuse this situation.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help. My request is simple. I need for you to arrange a conversation between myself and your minister of foreign affairs, the sooner the better. Unfortunately, without proper diplomatic relations, communication between our governments is somewhat… difficult. Can I count on your help?” Bryan flashed a comforting smile again.

Since the United States and Venezuela had expelled each other's ambassadors, diplomacy was slow and awkward. It was made even worse since the United States viewed Venezuela as a government supporting terrorism, which meant that diplomacy had to go through back channels. It would have been very expedient if President Taylor and President Garza could simply speak to each other, but that just wasn't going to happen.

“Of course, Mr. Secretary.”

“Excellent. Here is my card.” Paul Bryan handed his business card to Santos. “Call me at the number on this card as soon as you have spoken with your foreign affairs minister. It is most urgent, and I will make myself available to speak to Señor Maldonado any time, day or night. And when this is all over I promise you a leisurely dinner, during which we can rehash all of this and hopefully laugh… at least a little bit.” Bryan smiled and stood, extending his hand to Señor Angelo Santos.

Chapter 29

October 14

Washington, D.C.

After Señor Santos left his office
, Paul Bryan sank into his chair. He was dog tired. He leaned back and closed his eyes, putting his feet up on the edge of his desk. Act II was coming up, and he needed to be ready. And right now, that meant he needed to sleep. He paged his secretary. “Marge, unless it's Señor Santos or Señor Maldonado, hold my calls. I'm going to stretch out on the couch and try to nap for an hour or two.”

He walked to the couch, took off his suit jacket, kicked off his black wing tips, and stretched out. As tired as he was, sleep did not come quickly. And when it finally did, it was not a deep, restful sleep. Bryan could not close down his brain. Over and over again he went through what needed to be done, imagining the next conversation with the minister of foreign affairs for Venezuela. The conversation with the charge d'affaires was simply the warm up. He could not afford any mistakes, any miscalculations with the minister.

It was 5:25 in the evening when Marge knocked on his office door and then opened it. “Mr. Bryan, are you awake?”

He rose from his slumber on the couch. “Yes Marge, what is it?”

“I have the foreign minister from Venezuela on the phone. He says you had requested his call?”

“Yes, Marge. I did. Give me a minute to shake the cob webs out and then put it through, please. Oh, and after you put the call through, would you mind bringing me a fresh cup of coffee? Thank you.”

“Yes, sir.” She closed the office door.

Secretary of State Paul Bryan stretched and then seated himself at his desk, still in his stocking feet. His phone buzzed and he picked up the handset. “This is Secretary of State Paul Bryan.”

“Mr. Secretary, this is Roberto Maldonado, Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela. I believe you have requested this conversation.”

“Yes, Señor Maldonado, I did. Thank you. Has Señor Santos shared with you our conversation earlier today?”

“Portions, yes. Am I supposed to be intimidated by your posturing and threats?”

“Señor Maldonado. I hope that you will listen carefully and choose your course of action wisely. As I explained to Señor Santos, my government has overwhelming evidence that the Venezuelan government has directly organized and funded terrorist attacks against citizens of the United States and other countries. We know that these attacks are meant to disrupt research aimed at developing synthetic routes to petroleum.”

“Preposterous! My government does not support terrorism! On the contrary, I suggest it is the United States that fosters terrorism through your sales of weapons and clandestine efforts to overthrow sovereign governments.”

“Señor Maldonado, you have no audience here. It is just you and me. We are both well aware of the truth, so save your rhetoric for the world stage.”

“I believe this conversation has reached its end. I have no time for your threats.”

“I assure you that I am not making idle threats. The President has instructed me to use all possible diplomatic means to avoid the necessity of a military strike. Although he has no reservation about destroying your military capability, we do not wish to harm innocent civilians. Our quarrel is not with the people of Venezuela, but with its government.”

“Very well. You can report to your President that you have done your job. Now let me give you a warning—do not underestimate the will and strength of Venezuela. We have many powerful allies who have pledged support against Yankee aggression. Your president should show more concern for the loss of American lives.”

And then the line went dead. The minister of foreign affairs had actually hung up on him! Paul Bryan had never had another professional diplomat hang up on him before.

This did not go as well as he had hoped. The reference to powerful allies was surely an acknowledgement of the alliance with Russia. Could there be other allies as well? Maybe Iran? The involvement of Iran was suggested in the intelligence reports, but proof of a formal alliance had not been produced. The secretary of state felt his stomach churning… maybe another cup of coffee wasn't such a good idea.

General Hendrickson had assured the President that a military strike would be swift and decisive, contained within the borders of Venezuela. But if Russia entered the conflict and then Iran, how could the fighting be contained? How could a third world war be avoided?

With great trepidation, Paul Bryan phoned the President's chief of staff. Twenty minutes later he was sitting in the Oval Office.

“Mr. President, I am sorry to report that I was not successful. My conversation with Señor Maldonado did not go as well as I had hoped.”

“He just blew you off, Paul? Is that what happened?”

“Yes, Mr. President. That's exactly what happened. He offered only the weakest of denials when I confronted him on the terrorist attacks. And he completely brushed aside any concern of retaliatory military strikes against his country's assets. He made reference to powerful allies. I assume he is referring to Russia. But he could also mean Iran. What do the Joint Chiefs think about that possibility?”

“Well, I suppose I'm not surprised. Garza has been spewing hostile rhetoric aimed at the U.S., and Western countries in general, ever since he took office. It was worth a try, though. The military thinks that Iran has no stomach for all-out war with us—they saw what happened in Iraq and don't want to risk the same thing happening in their sand box—no pun intended.”

“I see.”

“Don't be hard on yourself, Paul. You did all I could ask. It was a long shot, but worth a try to save civilian lives. As much as I'd like to see that bastard Garza out of business, I wish no harm to the Venezuelan people.”

“We could try to open a dialog through the Colombian government.”

“Unfortunately, Paul, the time for choices has passed. I'll let General Hendrickson know that he has a green light to proceed with Operation Checkmate, as soon as possible.”

“Mr. President, I think it would be a good idea to tee up Colonel Pierson. It was his people, the Strategic Global Intervention Team, that both foiled the terrorist attack led by Ramirez and encountered the Russian spetsnaz sniper team on Chernabura Island. And it was also Colonel Pierson's team that led the intel work on this case.”

“Good idea, Paul.” President Taylor stood and paced slowly in front of his desk. “I read the report. Pierson's men were aided by a civilian, a man named Savage. Pretty handy in a tight spot. Most men would crumble under that pressure.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Follow up with the Colonel. Make sure he remains available until this operation is completed. How is it going with the Security Council?”

“We're making progress, sir. I'll be leaving shortly for meetings this evening at the U.N. I've already briefed most of the permanent members, excluding Russia, of course. If all goes well, I expect to have the commitment of the Security Council this evening to support our resolution, but it is my sincere hope, sir, that we don't have to go that far. Also, the secretary general has already agreed to support our position, should we ask for it.”

“You're doing a fine job, Paul. I know this past week has been very demanding. Unfortunately, it goes with the job. Try to get some rest on the chopper to New York. I need you to stand beside me to the end. Will you do that?”

“Of course, Mr. President.”

Bryan reviewed the current membership list of the United Nations Security Council for the fourth time that day. The list contained the names of fifteen member nations, including the five permanent members: China, France, the Russian Federation, the United Kingdom, and the United States. At the moment, Bryan's mind was focused on the ten non-permanent member countries voted onto the Security Council by the permanent members. At 9:00 P.M., Secretary of State Bryan would provide a detailed briefing with all of the Security Council members except Russia.

He had already set the stage for the meeting, and tonight he would be asking for firm support of a possible U.S.-backed resolution authorizing broad sanctions, including freezing all assets of, and imposing a complete trade embargo against, the Russian Federation. In addition, a second U.S.-backed resolution would authorize immediate and unrestrained military actions against Russia should it carry out acts of aggression, or support acts of aggression, against the United States or allies of the United States.

In order to gain such unprecedented support aimed at another member of the Security Council, Paul Bryan would present highly-classified surveillance and intelligence information, including sharing details of capabilities he would prefer were left to one's imagination.

He would argue that Russia was actively supporting a vast machination orchestrated by the government of Venezuela to deprive all the world of the knowledge to synthesize oil from resources available to all countries. Therefore, it was proper for the U.N. to act as one and decisively oppose the aggressive and illegal acts of the Russian Federation.

China was the wild card. If China exercised its influence over other members, the U.S.-backed resolutions would be dead. Bryan's plan was to secure the unqualified support of the other Security Council members, and then play upon the long-held fear the Chinese have of Russian invasion and domination. Bryan did not harbor any illusions that he could secure a vote of support from the Chinese ambassador, but he did think he could convince him to abstain. And that was all he needed.

Bryan boarded the Marine helicopter on the White House lawn shortly before 7:00 P.M. He ate a ham and cheese sandwich on board as the chopper flew to the U.N. headquarters in New York. That would have to do for dinner. Accompanied by two aides, Bryan didn't waste any time upon arrival at the United Nations. He and his aides signed in and were escorted to a reserved and secure conference room where they met the United States ambassador to the U.N. She had suggested that Bryan conduct this briefing personally to convey the gravity of the situation.

A wheeled cart holding large silver carafes of coffee, regular and decaf, and one smaller silver carafe that contained hot water was rolled into the meeting room. The aides laid bound and numbered briefings—basically copies of the slides that Secretary of State Bryan would present shortly—at each place around the oval polished mahogany table. The presentation was brought up on the screen, and a quick practice run was conducted. The message was far too important to allow poor preparation to distract his audience. Bryan was not about to overlook the art of the sell.

Exactly on schedule, the U.N. ambassadors arrived and shuffled into the meeting room. The American ambassador greeted each of her colleagues as they entered. France and the United Kingdom sat on the right of the Security Council President's seat at the head of the table. As luck would have it, the rotating position was currently occupied by the United States. Every month the presidency rotated through the five permanent members in alphabetical order. Next month France would again have the honor, followed by the People's Republic of China the following month.

China sat at the left side of the table, also next to the president's seat. The non-permanent member nations—Ukraine, Georgia, Singapore, Poland, Australia, Canada, Ireland, Netherlands, Germany, and Brazil—occupied the remaining seats.

Conspicuously absent was the ambassador from Russia.

Bryan was pleased that the audience was largely sympathetic to his position. Many of the non-permanent member nations historically did not trust Russia and were fearful of her military ambitions.

Paul Bryan seated himself in the president's chair. He had met with the Security Council previously, and as before, he sensed the aura of power that accompanied this body. After the usual chitchat and small talk, Bryan cleared his throat and began the meeting.

“First, I want to thank all of you for agreeing to meet tonight on short notice as well as under rather unusual circumstances. So, let me get straight to the point. First slide please.” One of Bryan's aides began the presentation. All eyes were focused on the projection screen. Bryan stood and approached the screen. He was a dynamic speaker, and he always felt the need to use physical gestures to make a point, to connect with his audience.

Bryan began the process of laying out the case that Venezuela was carrying out a systematic and concerted plan to execute scientists working in the field of abiogenic oil formation. The goal, he explained, was to prevent these researchers from discovering routes to manufacture petroleum from water and certain minerals, widely available.

Eyes were darting between the screen and the briefing book. Bryan's aides were carefully watching each ambassador, looking for signs that they were not following along or were dismissing the material. So far, so good.

“This brings me to Russia, the subject of this meeting as you are all well aware. On the 24th of September, barely three weeks ago, the Russian submarine
Saint Petersburg
sailed into United States' territorial waters in the Aleutian Island chain to carry out a clandestine operation. We have irrefutable evidence of this act—you will find copies of the sonar data in your briefing book. We were able to capture these data because a U.S. submarine, the
New Mexico,
was on routine patrol in the vicinity.”