Page 68 of Shadow of Doubt

“Good job in there,” Porter said to Maggie as the door closed behind them and they all sat down on the couches facing each other.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” she replied.

“As you said, we’re operating with a high degree of confidence that President Peshkov has placed tactical nuclear weapons in Belarus and is prepared to use them, correct?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“I want to hear your thoughts on how we change his mind.”

“I’m not an economist,” Maggie replied, “so I can’t comment on any further sanctions that could successfully be brought to bear.”

“Nor is that what we’re looking for from you,” the national security advisor replied. “If Peshkov only responds to power, what power would you threaten him with?”

Maggie took a moment to think before responding, “First, I don’t think we should threaten him directly. But we could do so indirectly.”

President Porter looked at her. “Go on.”

“President Peshkov likes to tell us what he’s going to do. I think you should do the same, Mr. President. But do it through surrogates.”

“Explain.”

“We know the Russians study our media, the same way we study theirs. We should gather up a team of retired, high-ranking generals and arm them all with the same talking points. We should see them on every cable and broadcast news program stating that President Peshkov’s threat to use nuclear weapons is absolutely untenable and that the United States will not stand for it.

“Then, when the host asks what the response should be if Russia does use one, each surrogate should say, ‘I no longer advise the White House, but if I did, my plan would be to kill every single Russian soldier in Ukraine, including within the illegally annexed territory in the Donbas and the Crimean Peninsula—all via our nonnuclear and far superior military platforms. Simultaneously, we would sink President Peshkov’s entire Black Sea Fleet. Right down to the rowboats.’ Finally, I would make sure the surrogates made it crystal clear that whatever bases, be they Russian or third party, that were involved in nuclear weapons being used in Ukraine, they will be completely destroyed as well.”

President Porter looked at his national security advisor. “Appropriate?”

“More than appropriate,” the man replied, before turning back to Maggie. “But what if the Russians don’t get the message?”

“I would suggest that as the surrogates are out delivering their remarks, the secretary of state should be in the air, en route to Moscow. I can give you a list of the top five people who have the greatest influence on President Peshkov. Only one of them is in the government. The other four are in private industry. If the SecState can convey to them what the overwhelming response will look like, it may end up landing in President Peshkov’s ear. If it does, it might do so in such a way that he pays attention.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“If, despite all our efforts, President Peshkov ignores our warnings and detonates a nuclear weapon in Ukraine, we need to unleash a response so severe that not only will Russia never use a nuclear weapon again, but nobody else will either.”

CHAPTER 32

PARIS

When politely asking for the underground parking garage’s CCTV footage hadn’t worked, Gibert had used an emergency terrorism provision to fast-track a warrant.

While he waited for the magistrate to sign off, he had left two of his most intimidating officers on-site to make sure no “accidents” befell the server in his absence. He also didn’t want anyone else touching the doors that led from the Métro tunnel into the electrical/mechanical room, as well as into the garage’s stairwell.

Gibert didn’t necessarily think any of the employees had anything to do with Jadot’s killer getting away, but there was a fierce antipolice sentiment that ran through certain segments of the French population. He wouldn’t have put it past any of them to destroy evidence if they knew it could hurt the cops.

Once the warrant came through, the garage dithered until their lawyer arrived. But as soon as he saw the paperwork, he told his client to hand over everything the police had asked for.

Gibert had his cell phone out and was dialing Brunelle before he’d even hit the sidewalk.

They went back and forth over whose office to use, ultimately agreeing that her equipment was better. He joked that if he used lights, sirens, and sidewalks, he could probably be there in two days.

Paris traffic had always been a nightmare but had only grown worse in the last ten years. Being on the Île de la Cité, a stone’s throw from Notre Dame Cathedral, la Crim’s offices were right in the heart ofParis. The DGSI, on the other hand, was in the northwest suburb of Levallois-Perret.

It was only about four miles from the center of Paris, but at certain times of day, if you didn’t have a helicopter, it might as well have been on another planet.

Gibert had been taught about the area as a little boy. It was popular with impressionist painters, particularly the northern part of Île de la Jatte, an island in the Seine. What had most captivated him, however, was that Levallois-Perret was where Gustave Eiffel had his factory. And from that factory came two of the most iconic landmarks in the world—the Eiffel Tower and the Statue of Liberty.

Parking his vehicle, he passed through a series of security checkpoints, presented his credentials at the main desk, and waited for Brunelle to come downstairs.

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