Page 65 of Enemy Within
“What can you tell us about Madigan’s position, son?” Anderson folded his arms and hovered over Sasha, staring down his long nose. “What kind of intel were you able to get on this overflight?”
Taking a deep breath, Sasha launched into the report on his flight, from the moment he took off until the moment he ejected. His approach over the ice-covered Kara Sea. Finding Madigan’s position, and the two ships in the ice. The sub, its sail poking through the frozen sea. Explosions beneath the ice, and open holes. Burning RusFuel stations and oil derricks.
Their defenses, and how many times he was fired upon. His evasive maneuvers. Finally running out of time, and sprinting for deep Siberia while making what he thought was his last call to Sergey.
As he finished, Sasha turned toward Sergey, holding his gaze as he relayed his side of their final call. Sergey stared back, eyes wide, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Damn, son,” Anderson breathed. “That takes a lot of guts, volunteering for a one-way mission like that.”
“It was the right thing to do,” Sasha rumbled. “For Russia, and for the world.”
Jack heard what Sasha didn’t say: that he did it, all of it, for Sergey.
Ethan spoke in the silence that followed. “Sasha can reconstruct everything that he saw. Draw us a map. Give us actionable intelligence on the size and strength of Madigan’s forces.”
Anderson frowned. “Week-old intelligence.”
“It’s the Arctic, Captain. Everything is measured in glacial epochs there. Nothing moves fast. Not men, not machines, not nature.” Ethan shook his head. “After helping Moroshkin’s coup, he must have moved what’s left of his forces in bulk to the Arctic in one go. Anything else would be a logistical nightmare.”
“You said something about your team?”
Ethan nodded. “Yes. My team closed in on Madigan. Found his base in a derelict tanker off the coast of Saudi Arabia. Uncovered Madigan’s assassination plot.” He looked at Jack, swallowing. “Found out the truth about the attacker in the nick of time.”
Silence hung in the cabin. Jack held Ethan’s stare. He reached for Ethan’s hand and squeezed.
“I sent my team to these coordinates.” Ethan reached for another of Captain Anderson’s screens and called up the GPS, punching in longitude and latitude. “We need to go and pick them up.”
“And then what?” Elizabeth, again, over the secure link. “Jack,youare not seriously thinking about going into the Arctic. We lost a SEAL team deployed off Franz Josef Land. Nowyouwant to go in? You’re thepresident—”
“No, Elizabeth, I amnotthe president. I’m theformerpresident. Right now, I’m just a man. A man supporting a government operation, your and Director Reichenbach’s operation: capture or kill Madigan before he commits an act of global genocide.” He looked Elizabeth in the eye, across the thousands of miles that separated them, and squared his jaw. “We’ve come this far. I’m not leaving Ethan’s side. We’re doing this together.”
Sergey spoke quickly, sliding across to Jack and Ethan’s sides. “As representative of the true and authentic Russian government, I will join with you in this. You require Russian authorization to operate in our territory, which I am glad to extend to my friends in the United States. We would appreciate your help in taking care of this terrorist we have in our polar region.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Captain Anderson,” she finally said, slowly looking up. “This is your boat, and this would be your mission, with Director Reichenbach attached to your command. In your professional opinion, can this be done?”
Anderson pursed his lips. One boot scuffed at the deck as he frowned, as if the corrugated steel and rubber had done something out of line. All eyes were on him, in the cabin and over the uplink.
If Anderson nixed the idea, Jack was on thin ice going forward. And, he’d been beneath the surface once already.
He wasn’t the Commander in Chief. He wasn’t in the chain of command, not since he’d walked out of Bethesda and had given the keys to the White House to Elizabeth. He couldn’t order anyone to do anything. Anderson, so far, had been deferential and respectful to his former office, and possibly to how he viewed Jack as a man. But all that could change in a moment.
“Madam President, if you’re asking me if I can get two subs under the ice and sneak up on this bastard, the answer is yes. I can get us there. Now, what will we face?” He blew out slowly, and a low whistle echoed through the cabin. “Strange things happen under the ice. Waters that go down deeper than you can believe. Subs can hide in those depths. Is there one Russian sub under Madigan’s command? Or two? Or more? What about combat? How is your team, Director Reichenbach? Are we inserting them on the ice? We left Pearl with provisions for arctic operations, but what about your men? Are they ready for this?”
“They’re ready.” Ethan crossed his arms. “I trust my lieutenant. He knows what to do. He’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Mr. President.” Anderson flicked his eyes to Jack. “You’ve just come across the entirety of the Russian continent, a country gripped in civil war. You managed to sneak through territory that has been blacked out to the world since the coup began. You launched an intelligence gathering mission from inside hostile territory—” He nodded to Sasha. “—and successfully retrieved critical, actionable intelligence. All of this is incredible work. Beyond incredible.” He took a deep breath and squinted. “You should stop here, Mr. President. You’ve already done enough. The world thinks you’re dead.”
Jack smiled. He licked his lips, looking down at the decking for a moment. “Captain, you and I are about the same age. We grew up watching old men become the worst kind of politicians. Breaking promises, sending our friends out to fight wars in distant countries. Screaming at the other side when things didn’t go right. Refusing to take responsibility for anything. Always pointing the finger. Always, always, someone else’s fault. And America suffered. The world suffered. Our country lost itself, and we watched it happen, growing up in the shadow of so many failures.” He sighed. “I think that’s where Madigan was born. Somewhere along the line, too many promises were broken. He went through four wars. Watched his people suffer and die, and came home to the same old garbage.”
Shaking his head, Jack stood slowly. “I swore I’d be different. I swore, every single night, that I wouldn’t go down that path. I’d take responsibility. I’d show up. I’d make the hard calls, and live with them. I swore on my wife’s sacrifice that this crazy, desperate world she was taken from wouldn’t be what we had to live with. That there was somethingbetterin the future, for all of us.”
He thought back to his heroes, to the legacies of men and presidents who had shaped his worldview, and his presidency. Men who knew sacrifice, on so many levels. Men who gave their all to the nation. “When was the last time a president truly sacrificed for our nation? For the world?” He swallowed, memories of his short tenure in office flashing in his mind. Building outreach, reaching to other nations, trying to rebuild the world community. Taking the lead in aid after the blast in Nairobi, and stitching the global community even closer together. Facing down the barrel of a gun, and feeling cold steel bite his skin. Ethan rushing to his rescue. Standing together with Sergey and striding forward, leaving the ghosts of both nations behind. Feeling it all come apart, like water slipping through his fingers, as Sochi fell and the woman he thought was Leslie, his long-dead wife, lay in his arms.
Choosing Ethan. Choosing to stand and fight, to strike back, to bring back to Madigan what he had taken from Jack: his own life. “I will lay down my life to stop Madigan and to save America, and save the world. He thinks he’s already beaten me, that I’m already down. But I am theonething he won’t see coming.”
Silence. Not even a breath moved the air. Distantly, Jack heard the hum and splash of waves rolling against the sub’s smooth hull, a gentle lap that permeated the background.
Anderson peered at him. A new light shone in his eyes. Something had lit deep within the man, some core that Jack had tapped. “Respectfully, Mr. President,” Anderson said slowly. “How’s your combat training?”
