“Madam Vice President, we did no such thing,” Allende said, stammering.
“And I should believe you? You and your people lie for a living. Oh, I know about your disinformation pipelines, Madam CIA Director Allende. You made the Russians believe in the 80s that the Strategic Defense Initiative missile shield worked and was tested out with a perfect record. You sent fake messages back and forth, messages you knew the Russians were intercepting, that since the missile shield worked, that Star Wars was up and running, that it was time for a first nuclear strike against the Russians, isn’t that true? Isn’t it true that your deception of the Russian intelligence agencies forced Gorbachev to strike his hammer-and-sickle flag and lay down his guns, surrendering to an America that you’d led him to believe was ready to nuke his country to dust? Isn’t that true? No, don’t answer, Madam Director, I already know.”
She pointed to Brett Hogshead, the Secretary of War, and to Jeremy Shingles, Secretary of the Navy. “And you two,” she accused. “Out of the blue you decide to send our frogmen into a Russian Navy port and sabotage their submarine
She swung her cane to point back at Carlucci. “As for you, you should call Vostov right now and come clean. There are no bombs in his ports. Ask him politely and nicely to call off his Poseidon deployment.” She slowly walked toward the entrance to the room, the long voyage on her cane taking place while the room remained in shocked silence. Finally at the door, she said to Carlucci, “Mr. President, please consider this my resignation.”
She paused for a moment, just long enough for Carlucci to straighten his tie and say calmly, “Your resignation is accepted.”
Chushi shut the door behind her. Carlucci looked up at the meeting’s participants, raising his eyebrows. “More coffee, anyone?” When the silence continued, he said, “Well, then, this meeting is adjourned. I’m sure you all have pressing things to take care of. I’d like the room cleared with the exception of the Secretary of War, Secretary of State, CIA director, chairman of the joint chiefs and you, Admiral Pacino. I’m going to take a break for biological reasons. Please feel free to get fresh coffee and then come back.”
Pacino followed Allende to the wardroom, where a fresh pot of coffee awaited them. She poured for him first, then herself. Pacino spoke to her in a low tone.
“Is all that stuff Chushi said true?”
Allende waved him back to the Situation Room before answering. She sat and looked at him. “It’s all true except for mining Russian harbors with nuclear bombs. We didn’t do it and we didn’t ‘pipeline’ fake intelligence to the Russians saying we did do it. I don’t know where that’s coming from.”
“So how had the vice president gotten this information? Could it be she had some contact within Vostov’s organization?”
Allende shrugged. “I suppose we could bug her residence at the Naval Observatory and her West Wing office to find out, but I doubt that would bear fruit.”
“With her medical condition,” Pacino mused, “do you imagine that maybe she just got confused? Mixed up briefing information? Maybe heard about a potential plan to deploy nuclear mines, a plan rejected? Or an unexecuted scheme to ‘pipeline’ disinformation into the SVR?”
Allende shook her head. “We never even thought about a plot like that. Maybe one of Hogshead’s Pentagon novelists dreamed something up. You know he’s had thriller writers on retainer ever since seven-seventeen, charged with brainstorming incoming threats that his admirals and generals wouldn’t ever dream up. But if someone did put this idea on a Pentagon whiteboard, we never heard about it. And Hogshead would never embark on a plan like that without involving CIA.”
“What about NSA? Those spooks work for the Pentagon. For Hogshead. They could have put this idea into fake message traffic.”
“No way,” Allende said. “We’re tight with NSA and DIA. Hell, we practically live in conference rooms with those guys, and our people are in their task forces and theirs are in mine. NSA can’t send out an order for Chinese food without my people knowing about it. That goes for DIA as well. And no one is going rogue in our agencies. Ever since Snowden? Everyone with a clearance over top secret has as much surveillance on them as we put on the FSB or SVR.”
When Hogshead wandered back in with Shingles, Allende stopped talking. Once the smaller group was reassembled in the room again, Carlucci walked in, sat down, and poured fresh coffee for himself, then looked at Pacino.
“Well, Patch, let’s talk about this option you’ve proposed. Sinking the Omega.”
