Page 99 of Enemy of My Enemy
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Vinogradov Sinking
General Moroshkin demands President Puchkov’s resignation
General Moroshkin today demanded President Puchkov’s resignation after the terrorist attack and sinking of the Vinogradov led by former American General Porter Madigan. “President Puchkov has opened Russia up to senseless violence and despair,” Moroshkin stated. “He is a disgrace to the motherland, and he must be removed from office immediately.” Moroshkin went on to assert that Madigan’s targeting of Russia most likely occurred because of President Puchkov’s close friendship with President Spiers, the former target of Madigan’s attempted coup in the United States last year.
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Chapter 37
Air Force One, en route to Sochi, Russia
Jack and Ethanworked during the entire flight to Sochi, spreading out in Air Force One’s conference room alongside Irwin and Director Rees. Satellite images taken over the Indian Ocean searched for Madigan’s tanker. There were hundreds of tankers in the water, transiting through the Persian Gulf and the straits, and more were docked in deep water harbors. Orders went out for a visual confirmation on each and every one. The Navy was on high alert, searching for the Russians’ rogue sub with radar and sonar.
All options were on the table. Jack put the military on alert, up to DEFCON Four, with orders to be ready to initiate combat operations within forty-eight hours. Director Rees and Irwin briefed him on a laundry list of options, from surgical air strikes—once they found a target—to a surge of Special Forces soldiers. A blitzkrieg, or a silent kill mission. Ethan’s dark eyes held Jack’s gaze through the briefing.
When they landed in Russia, at Sochi, Sergey met them at the airport personally before they headed for the secured presidential retreat on the banks of the Black Sea. They’d dispensed with the press for the trip, and it was just Jack, Ethan, Irwin, and Director Rees, along with Scott, Daniels, Welby, and only the most trusted Secret Service agents, men who Scott had personally vetted and knew, without a doubt, were loyal.
Jack rested his head on Ethan’s shoulder and closed his eyes for the short drive to the retreat, his fingers laced through Ethan’s on his thigh. He grabbed a few moments of sleep on Ethan, his only respite in hours. Ethan stroked a hand through Jack’s hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
In Ethan’s pocket, the velvet box sat like lead, a presence he couldn’t ignore or push away. The rings were all of his hopes, all of his fragile dreams, made manifest. Held, literally, in the palm of his hand. He couldn’t leave them behind. Since Daniels had given the rings to him, he’d kept them close, tucked away, but always near.
It was the height of selfishness to think that he could ask this. Could ask a man as amazing and wondrous as Jack to join his life to Ethan’s. And now, with the world on the brink, his desires seemed even more like an impossible dream. The world had shifted since the Russian destroyer sank, a new vibration to the air. Tension filled the air at the White House, on Air Force One, everywhere it seemed, so palpable and thick. Everyone moved with scowls on their faces, deep lines etched into their skin. Words were bitten off, people speaking in harsh, hushed voices. Russia hung by a thin thread. They were a breath away from catastrophe, pushed to the brink by a madman’s plots, his ceaseless war against Jack and the world.
Limits were being pushed, and pushed hard.
He shook Jack awake as they pulled up to the retreat. For the first half hour, Scott and his team swarmed the place, checking the rooms set aside for their small delegation, and then they began the business of settling in: charging laptops and cell phones and changing out of wrinkled suits from the long flight.
Sergey, Ilya, Sasha, and General Kuznetsov, a Russian general loyal and sympathetic to Sergey, met with Jack, Ethan, Irwin, and Director Rees in the retreat’s glass-walled dining room overlooking the Black Sea. Maps went up on the walls. Plans were sketched out on the glass in marker, only to be wiped away and reworked. Intelligence passed back and forth, satellite images, photo reconnaissance, reports from sources on the ground, bitten-off whispers and rumors shared among fishermen and villagers.
General Kuznetsov and Ilya excused themselves as the sun went down over the water. Director Rees and Irwin retired to their rooms above, each holding a tumbler of whiskey poured by Sergey.
As the Russian sun dipped into the Black Sea, Sergey slid open the glass patio door and motioned to the broad wooden deck and the lounge chairs outside. “Come, Jack, Ethan. Let’s take a moment to ourselves.” He held the door for Sasha with a smile and led Jack and Ethan to the end of the deck.
Jack sighed as he folded himself down onto the patio lounger. He held out his hand for Ethan to slip in beside him. Sasha looked out over the water, eyes squinted as he straddled his lounger, and Sergey threw his lanky body down onto his own, stretching his long limbs off the ends.
“To the crew of theVinogradov,” Sergey said, sitting up and raising his whiskey for a toast.
Silently, Jack and Ethan raised their glasses. Sasha clinked his with Sergey.
“Captain Lukyanenko was a friend of mine.” Sergey stared into his glass. “He was a good man.”
Sasha reached for Sergey, rubbing his hand over his president’s shoulder. Sergey smiled sadly and leaned into the touch.
“I’m sorry, Sergey. We’re going to get him. I promise.”
“My country is on the brink, Jack.” Sergey’s eyes shone as the sun fell further, almost beneath the water line. Golden light played over the sea, and waves of red stained the sky. “I love my country. I love Mother Russia. I want her to be the best. This is a fantastic dream, bringing my motherland out of the darkness. But the darkness fights back. I dreamed I could rid us of corruption. Bring true freedom to our people. All people.” He tried to smile at Sasha. “The world had other ideas, it seems.”
Jack pressed his lips together. Ethan gripped his hand.
“Worries for another day.” Sergey seemed to try to shove away the melancholy staining his soul. He clapped Sasha on the shoulder. “We must take care of one thing, and then another. What is right before us.” Leaning back, he closed his eyes and poked at Sasha’s thigh. “Tell them that story you told me of your first flight supersonic.” He sipped at his whiskey, chuckling as Sasha blushed.
The stars winked through the darkening sky. Water lapped at the worn wood, gentle splashes burbling in the night. Sasha relayed one story after another, and the whiskey went down as the conversation and gentle laughter continued. Ethan’s thumb stroked the back of Jack’s hand as Jack rested his head on Ethan’s shoulder, surrendering himself completely to Ethan’s hold. Through the dim light cast from the patio lights behind them, Ethan saw Sasha’s glittering eyes watching him and Jack, and then his sidelong stare at Sergey when Sergey wasn’t looking.
In the midst of another of Sasha’s flight stories, this time relaying the first time his fighter had brushed the edge of space, he cut off mid-word, frowning over the sea.
“What is it?” Sergey poked Sasha’s thigh. “Aliens?”
