The Ten Thousand (18 page)

Mordal shrugged. “Okay, granted, the Germans like the Ukrainians. But the Germans are our allies.

They have been for more than fifty years. Given a choice, who do you think they’re going to side with?”

Jan straightened up as she continued to look at Mordal. He really didn’t understand. She was about to remind him that the Germans had been reluctant allies from the start, and had been pushing to get U.S.

forces out of Central Europe since the unification of East and West, when an assistant editor came running up to Mordal’s desk. “Gee, Charley, I hate to bother you and Jan, but we just got word that the President will be making an announcement at noon.”

Looking over to the bank of clocks on the wall, then at his own wristwatch, Mordal mumbled, “Well, that’s just great! Just outstanding! Thirty-five minutes to airtime and everything goes into the shitter.”

Standing up, he looked at Jan. At least, he thought, this gave him a great way to end a conversation that he really wasn’t interested in. “Look, Jan dear. You may have a wonderful story line there. But right now we have thirty or so minutes to rearrange everything. We’ll talk about this later.” Motioning to several technicians and assistant editors, Mordal turned his attention to his new problem. “Once we got a handle on this, Jan, I’ll get back to you. For now, plan on introducing your program at noon like normal. Then announce that we’ll cut to the White House briefing room. Jimmy will take it from there. And hang on to that script just in case this falls through or the President’s announcement is mercifully short. I’ll have Debbie display any changes on the TelePrompTer.”

Though she wasn’t pleased that she had failed to make her point, Jan nodded and got up off of Mordal’s desk. News, after all, was news. And while she truly believed that she had a good story line that needed to be pursued, this was not the time to do it. “Okay, Charley, I’ll go get myself ready and leave you to deal with the alligators.”

As President Wilson’s entourage entered the small room off to the side of the press briefing room, a technician signaled one of the aides attending the President. Walking over, the technician whispered, “The President’s secretary is on the line. She says that the German Chancellor is on the line requesting to speak directly to President Wilson.”

Wilson’s aide frowned. “How much time do we have before we go on?”

The technician looked at his watch, then at a wall clock. “Three minutes.”

Tilting his head down, the aide thought a moment. Then, making a decision that he thought was best but one which was well beyond his pay grade, the aide spoke with an assumed air of authority. “Tell the President’s secretary to contact Secretary Soares’s office at the State Department and have the Chancellor’s call transferred over to him.” Without any further thought, and not wanting to clutter the President’s mind with any thoughts other than what she was about to tell the American public, the aide let the technician and in turn a secretary handle the German Chancellor’s call.

The aide, unfortunately, had forgotten that Secretary Soares was in the middle of a meeting with the members of the UN Security Council in New York at the moment. Soares’s secretary, knowing that the meeting at the UN was important, didn’t want to forward the call to New York for fear of interfering with it. She therefore recommended that the call be transferred to the next man in Wilson’s inner circle, the Secretary of Defense.

While Chancellor Ruff of Germany was being kept on hold and aides and secretaries across Washington, D.C., were passing his call about like a football, Wilson’s press secretary came up to her side. “Here’s the revised script as it will appear on the TelePrompTer, Madam President.”

Wilson, oblivious to the fumbling of her staff and the staff’s of her cabinet, prepared herself for the press. Taking the script in her right hand, Wilson reached across with her left hand and put it on her press secretary’s arm. “Please do me a favor, Maggie, and don’t make a face this time if I stray from your prepared text. You know how I love to play the room.”

“Oh, no problem, Madam President, you go right ahead and improvise all you want. You know you’re at your best when you do that.”

Yes, Wilson thought. She always did her best when she trusted her instincts. As she watched the big hand of the clock inch toward twelve, she regretted that she hadn’t trusted her instincts on this current issue. While Pete Soares was a great political advisor and Terry Rothenberg was a shrewd lawyer, they needed to think more on their own and not take as gospel everything their advisors in the State Department and the Pentagon fed them. They had made too many mistakes on this one and needed to make sure that didn’t happen again, provided, of course, she could pull their collective chestnuts out of this fire.

“One minute, Madam President.”

Drawing two deep breaths, Wilson flashed her best campaign smile and prepared to step into the lions’ den.

“Damn them.
DAMN
THEM
TO HELL!” Lunging forward over his desk, Chancellor Ruff thrust his finger at his military aide. “You go and find the lowest bathroom attendant in this building. Have him get on the phone and tell that little fat Jew Secretary of Defense that if I wanted to talk to him, I would have called him.” Pushing himself away from his desk, Ruff looked at Colonel Hans Kasper for a moment.

“Who does that whore think she is dealing with? Does she believe that Germany is still a vassal state, to be dealt with at _her _ convenience?”

Kasper did not flinch. He had no intention of finding a bathroom attendant, since there were none in the building, and, more importantly, Ruff’s comment was simply part of an elaborate play being enacted for the benefit of members of the cabinet who were not privy to the script. Ignoring Ruff’s last comment, Kasper excused himself, playing his role to the hilt. “I will personally tend to the call immediately, Herr Chancellor.” Pivoting smartly on his heel, he left the room to Ruff and the cabinet members that had assembled in his office.

When the door was closed and he had regained his composure after his well-controlled outburst, Ruff turned to the members of his cabinet. Though he had no idea of the folly in Washington that had resulted in what Ruff considered an insult, the timing of it couldn’t have been any better for Ruff. “That, my friends, is what the Americans think of us. That is why it is time, in my opinion, to bring this unnatural state of affairs to an end. We no longer need an army of occupation to remind us that they defeated us. We no longer need to have foreigners rub our noses in the sins of our fathers. The past is over.” Ruff pounded his fist on the desk to emphasize his point. “OVER! OVER! It is time that _WE _ made the Americans understand that.”

Across from him, the members of his cabinet listened to him in silence. Some showed their agreement with a simple nod or a gesture. Others, uncomfortable with Ruff’s manner and what they believed his line of thinking, grimaced or shifted restlessly in their chairs. This did not surprise Ruff. He already knew who could be trusted and who needed to be kept in the dark. In time, everyone, even the dullest idiot, would come to understand what he was after. But he expected by then to have presented the German people a fait accompli, one which, when they came to understand what was at stake, they would support. Until then Ruff had to ensure that they continued to pretend that they were what his Foreign Minister, Bruno Rooks, called the innocent rape victim.

Standing up, Ruff looked about the room, then turned his back to the members of his cabinet as he limped across the room to a window. The storm that had started that morning continued unabated.

From behind him, Thomas Fellner, the Interior Minister, was the first to speak. “I believe we need to send a high-ranking representative to the United States, preferably Herr Rooks. He could be there by tomorrow morning to meet with President Wilson. Once we understood what they had in mind and what they intended? ”

Pivoting, Ruff thrust his right arm down, jabbing his index finger toward the floor to emphasize his anger as he shouted, “NO! NO! I will not send a member of my government hat in hand crawling to that bitch, for any reason. Not tonight, not tomorrow,
NOT
EVER!” Folding his arms across his chest, Ruff took a deep breath and threw his head back before he continued. “Think, Thomas, think. Think of what that would tell the world. The leaders of the other nations in Europe would see that and say, ‘Ah, see how Germany, the good little client state, runs to the United States for instructions.’ Is that what you want, my friend? No. Germany is the offended party. Germany is once again captive to a unilateral American action that has gone astray.” Taking a few steps forward, Ruff thrust his right arm up, finger pointed to the ceiling. “No, my comrades. Germany will not roll over like an obedient puppy dog, allowing the Americans to come and go as they please. Not this time. Not while I am Chancellor.”

As if on cue, Rudolf Lammers, the Minister of Defense, spoke out. “What other options, Herr Chancellor, do we have? As we sit here beating our chests in righteous indignation, the Americans are already flying nuclear weapons into our country from the Ukraine. This is an act, if I may remind all of you, which is in clear violation of every disarmament agreement we and the United States have been party to since the collapse of the Eastern bloc. By tomorrow morning, if we do nothing, the weapons will be transferred to larger aircraft and flown back to the United States. The Americans will have, as a result of their deception and our ineptitude, achieved their objective, at our expense.”

“That,” Ruff added, “is exactly my point. While we sit here wringing our hands, wondering what to do, the Americans forge on with their plan. We must act. We must take action to ensure that the United States, as well as the rest of Europe, understands that we are not a puppet on a string to be jerked about whenever it pleases them. German sovereignty and self-determination, not to mention our pride and integrity, must be respected.”

As in the past, Fellner raised the voice of concern and caution. Not that Ruff didn’t expect it. In fact, he had counted on Fellner to do so. “What, Herr Chancellor, do you propose to do at this point?

Outside of official protests, the only other option that I see is direct action against American operations within our borders. Are you proposing that we take such measures?”

Fellner’s comments could not have been any more timely or better put than if Ruff had written that part of the script himself. For Ruff, the fact that Fellner, the voice of reason within the German cabinet, a man viewed by everyone in Germany and Europe as being the epitome of what a good peace-loving German should be, was the first to mention direct action was critical. For several moments, Ruff let Fellner’s comments hang in the air, acting as if he were thinking about them. When he was ready, Ruff moved back to his desk, limping slightly. When he spoke, Ruff looked down at the floor, voice soft, reflective, almost as if he were speaking his thoughts rather than addressing his ministers. “That, my friends, is what we must now discuss.” Then, as if a moment of indecision had passed and he had regained his resolve, Ruff looked up. “If you would, there is much to do and not much time. I would like to speak with Herr Rooks and Herr Lammers for a few minutes in private.” As the cabinet members began to rise from their chairs, Ruff called out, “Excuse me, gentlemen. I am sorry. I have forgotten that I am scheduled for a press conference that should have started five minutes ago. We must as soon as possible inform the German people about what is happening in order to calm their fears and let them know that we are doing something.” Looking around the room as if he were trying to decide who should serve as his substitute, Ruff stopped when his eyes came to rest on Fellner. “Would it be possible, Herr Fellner, for you to take it for me?”

Though he would have preferred not to, Fellner nodded. “Yes, Herr Chancellor, I will. How much do you want me to tell the press? Is it appropriate at this time, Herr Chancellor, to mention that we are considering declaring a state of emergency?”

Ruff struggled to conceal the joy he felt when Fellner mentioned a state of emergency. Such a declaration would allow Ruff as the Chancellor to take action without having to consult the Bundestag.

“Do as you see fit, my friend. It just might be wise to bring out some of the concerns we have expressed in this meeting.”

Rooks and Lammers looked at each other with a knowing glance when Ruff made that comment After a moment, Fellner agreed. “Yes, perhaps it is best if we begin to tell the German people the truth and prepare them.”

“Yes,” Ruff repeated solemnly, “I suppose you are right.”

When the rest of the cabinet was gone, Colonel Kasper entered the room. “Herr Chancellor, General Lange and General Schacht are waiting.”

Waving his hand, Ruff ordered Kasper to show them in. Walking over to Rooks and Lammers, Ruff shook their hands. “It has begun, my friends, it has finally begun. Now all we need to do is to see if the commander of the 1st Parachute Division can deliver as he has promised.”

Both Ruff and Lammers knew there was no need to discuss options. The direct action that Fellner had mentioned had already been decided upon several days before. Orders to the units involved had already been issued. Units of the Bundeswehr that were to execute those orders were on the move at that very moment The meeting between Ruff, Rooks, Lammers, and his military chief’s was nothing more than a final review of the situation and any last-minute coordination that needed to be made.

If all went well, within twelve hours Germany would be a nuclear power.

The evacuation of the remnants of Company A back to the heart of Slovakia brought little comfort or joy to the survivors. While it was reasonable that they would be treated separately and kept for a while due to their exposure to radiation, the treatment that the rangers of Company A received by everyone they came across was, in Ilvanich’s mind, inexcusable. The danger from any radiation that the rangers had come into contact with in the Ukraine had long since been dealt with. That did not stop treatment, however, which Ilvanich considered to be cruel and unjustifiable to the men who now looked to him for answers.