Black Sea Affair (46 page)

"Those who are left behind shall demand a permanent withdrawal of the Russians from Chechnya, and shall demand freedom for our country while we dance with a thousand maidens in paradise!"

"Glory to Allah for this privilege!" one of them shouted.

"And blessed be the prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him!" another said.

Sadir raised his hands. "Glory to Allah indeed. Now let us all return to our stations and finish the work we have begun."

CHAPTER 30

The White House

Mr. President, " Admiral John Ayers spoke with an elevated urgency in his voice, "USS
Charlotte
reports that the
Al Alamein
is now turning east from the Baltic Sea into the Gulf of Finland."

"When?" Mack asked.

"Within the last hour, sir."

"Let's see the charts."

"Yes, sir."

The president, along with the vice president, the secretaries of defense and state, the White House chief of staff, the director of central intelligence, and the national security advisor looked on as Admiral Ayers spoke.

"Right now, the
Al Alamein
is about one hundred twenty-five miles southwest of Helsinki and some three hundred miles from St. Petersburg."

"What's going on here?" Mack wondered out loud.

"At least it's not London or New York, " the secretary of defense muttered.

"Why would they want to threaten Helsinki?" Vice President Surber asked. "Sure, Finland is a member of NATO, but they had their shot at London, for goodness sakes."

"Maybe, " Secretary Mauney said, "we're all off base and there's nothing on that freighter but freight."

"Surely they're not targeting St. Petersburg?" Vice President Surber said.

"That makes no sense, " said Cynthia Hewitt. "Neither al-Qaeda nor the Council of Ishmael seems to care much about the Russians. They want to kill Westerners. I can't imagine them using a nuclear device -- if that's what they have -- on an insignificant target like that."

"Unless this is somehow all related to Chechnya, " Vice President Surber noted.

"Possible but unlikely, Mr. Vice President, " the CIA director noted.

"Do we have a dossier on the Egyptian skipper yet?" Mack asked.

"Not yet, but we're still working on it, sir, " the CIA director responded.

"That's not good enough! I need info on this skipper, " the president said. "And I need to find out what the target is! We need
something
that supports our suspicions that this freighter is carrying that nuclear fuel!" He eyed his CIA director. "Director Winstead, put the heat on your people for that dossier. That may give us a clue. Remember, time may be running out."

"Yes, sir."

St. Nicholas Naval Cathedral
St. Petersburg, Russia

Television lights, cameras, and media representatives from every major nation dotted the packed, ornate, cathedral-turned-courthouse.

The three Russian military judges had been gone an hour now, and Zack wondered if the enlongated recess was extended to prepare his arrest warrant for violation of the Russian slander laws.

Zack sipped the chlorine-heavy Russian water. He glanced over at Pete Miranda, who looked pale.

Zack could handle about anything the American judicial system could throw at him. In America, in the military justice system, he knew the rules.

But this?

This was an international sideshow designed to win over wavering nations back into Russia's camp by making America look bad, and everybody knew it.

If that's the way the Russians wanted to play, so be it.

"All persons stand, " the translation came through the headphones, as the three grim-faced officers made their way from the side doors in the front of the cathedral, through a cascade of flashes, to their tables. Good. No arrest warrant for Zack.

"Is the prosecution ready to proceed?"

"We are, " Major Peter Andropov announced.

"Very well. Call your first witness."

Now.
Zack rose to his feet. "Excuse me, General Smirnov."

"What is it, Commander Brewer?"

"My apologies, Comrade General, but the defense has a motion, sir."

"What kind of a motion?"

"With greatest deference to the tribunal, the defense at this time makes a motion to dismiss."

After his statement was translated, angry shouts in Russian erupted all over the courtroom. Zack looked over his shoulder. They were standing -- angry bearded men and women in frumpy dresses -- yelling and shaking their fists in the air. Their eyes were ablaze.

He turned and looked back at the tribunal. General Smirnov's black eyes burned down upon him. The general rapped his gavel on the desk and yelled something in Russian at the tumultuous gallery. The crowd settled down.

"And what gives you the right to make such a motion at this time, Commander?"

"With all due respect, General, the Geneva Accords gives me that right."

"What do you mean?"

"General, Article 17 provides that no physical or mental torture, nor any other form of coercion, may be inflicted on prisoners of war to secure from them information of any kind whatever. Prisoners of war who refuse to answer may not be threatened, insulted, or exposed to unpleasant or disadvantageous treatment of any kind.

"This tribunal seeks, by this trial, to force information from my client that he is not required to give."

The general slammed his fist on that table. "But your client is no prisoner of war. There is no war between our countries, at least not yet. Plus he has not been tortured."

"I disagree with you, General. The Geneva Accords provide a broad definition of what constitutes a
prisoner of war
."

Zack raised his voice to speak over the uproar in the courtroom.

"In fact, Article 4 of the Third Geneva Convention protects captured military personnel, and even some civilians and guerrilla fighters. It applies from the moment a prisoner is captured until he is released or repatriated.

"One of the main provisions requires that a prisoner only give his name, date of birth, rank, and ser vice number.

"This tribunal puts my client in the position of having to give more information than just his name, date of birth, rank, and ser vice number in order to defend himself. And that, General, is a violation of international law and is a violation of the Geneva Accords. Therefore, this action should be dismissed and my client and his crew should be afforded full protection to which they are entitled pursuant to the Geneva Accords. I have a brief here, with copies in Russian, English, French, German, Italian, and Spanish, which outlines our position under the norms of international law." Zack waved copies of the briefs in the air for the international press to see.

The Russian translation rang throughout the courtroom. Another murmuring arose from the crowd. Journalists furiously scribbled notes, as the three flag officers conferred among themselves. General Prokofiev, in particular, was red-faced, and was banging his fists on the table in the front of the courtroom.

Zack did not expect them to grant his motion. He was hoping against hope. But raising the Geneva Accords, he hoped, would at least slow down the steamroller. Maybe, just maybe he could buy the U.S.

Navy enough time to find this mysterious Egyptian freighter -- if such a freighter really existed. All he could do was stall. And pray.

General Smirnov looked out at Zack and snarled, "Commander Brewer, you may approach with your brief. Bring us the copies in Russian, please."

"Yes, sir, General." Zack picked up three of the copies that had been translated into Russian and walked across the marble floors to the table, where the three officers sat.

They each met him with icy stares as he approached. He nodded at each, laid the briefs on the tables before them, then quickly pivoted around into the glare of television lights and returned to counsel table.

They flipped through the pages, shook their heads, and huddled again. Their below-the-breath comments appeared heated, almost as if they were arguing with one another.

Finally General Smirnov stood. "Commander Brewer, the panel has considered your motion and we find it to be without merit. However, out of our great respect for the Geneva Conventions, and because the Russian Federation is a party to those accords, we are going to take a recess to study the matter overnight and to confer with legal counsel."

"Thank you, General."

"But let me warn you, Commander, that we will tolerate no more frivolous motions."

Zack did not respond.

The panel rose and walked out of the room.

The White House

At least Brewer bought us some time, " the president remarked, "which is something we don't have much of."

"They're sensitive about being accused of violating the Geneva Conventions, " Secretary Mauney said. "At least they want to give the
appearance
of considering the motion, even if they have already denied it. Great strategy by Brewer."

"Zack's our best, " Secretary Lopez remarked. "That's why we sent him."

"That's the truth, " Admiral Ayers added.

"Director Winstead, do you have that dossier yet?" the president asked, as CIA Director Mitch Winstead walked into the Oval Office with a briefcase in hand. He sat in a circle of chairs occupied by the usual group. Mack noticed that he was drawing anxious stares.

"Yes, sir, Mr. President. And I think I finally have some answers."

"Let's have it."

The CIA director extracted papers from his briefcase, made eye contact with the president, then looked down and began reading bullet points. "This is from sources inside the Egyptian Merchant Marine. Captain Hosni Sadir was born in Cairo. He served in the Egyptian Navy, where he commanded a destroyer homeported out of Alexandria. Our background shows that he is of Chechen origin and has ties there.

"His grandparents were deported by Stalin with other Islamic Chechens during World War II, and after that, Sadir's family emigrated to Egypt.

"Despite all that, the family has maintained very close ties to their relatives back in Chechnya. In 1997, when Maskhadov introduced Islamic law to Chechnya, Sadir filed paperwork to move back to Chech-nya. But then, the Russians killed Maskhadov. Then many of Sadir's Chechen relatives were massacared in a Russian attack on a mosque in Grozny."

There was a brief pause.

"So Captain Sadir doesn't like the Russians, " National Security Advisor Cynthia Hewitt said.

"That's an understatement, Miss Hewitt, " Director Winstead replied. "It gets worse."

"Great, " Mack said. "Let's hear it."

"We got a copy of the ship's passenger manifest. One of the passengers is a native Chechen named Salman Dudayev."

"Doesn't ring a bell, " the secretary of state said.

"Dudayev is an American-trained physicist -- he studied at MIT --who had close ties to Maskhadov. Although Chechnya has been considered as Russia's problem, we've maintained a file on this guy because his education and political affiliations puts him in a category of persons who could be very dangerous if weapons-grade uranium or plutonium ever fell into his hands."

"You are sure Dudayev is on that ship?" the president asked.

Winstead nodded his head. "Mr. President, we paid a ton of money to get that manifest. We have absolutely no reason to doubt its accuracy, sir."

"Dear Lord, help us." Mack rubbed his temples. "Is everybody here thinking what I'm thinking?"

"It's St. Petersburg, " Secretary Lopez said.

"It's gotta be, " Secretary Mauney nodded in rare agreement with the SECDEF. "This Masha Katovich girl is proving to be reliable."

"We've got a lot of people there, " Vice President Surber said.

It came again -- that feeling that someone had tossed an icepack on the back of Mack Williams' neck.

"Should we notify the Russians?" Cynthia Hewitt asked.

"Won't do any good, " Mack said. "By the time we convince them that they're in danger, St. Petersburg and our crew would already be incinerated."