I Do Solemnly Swear (28 page)

“Your government has no legitimate right to threaten Iran.”

“How have we threatened you?”

“Iraq is still occupied by American troops, and there are American bases surrounding us in other Middle East countries. Our waters are infested with your battleships and aircraft carriers. They pose a constant danger to our national security.”

“Mr. Habib, the United States has never engaged in an act of war against Iran.”

“I strongly disagree. My country has not, in any way, initiated military action against the United States, yet your president
savagely destroyed our air force base, crippled our communication center, and demolished warehouses filled with food for our people. George W. Bush invaded Iraq many years ago without justification or the endorsement of the United Nations. Your military destroyed Iraq and slaughtered tens of thousands of innocent Iraqi citizens. How can you sit across from me and claim that your military presence in the Middle East does not pose a threat to my country? Perhaps I should show you photographs of Iraqi citizens with their bodies torn to pieces.”

“And perhaps I should show you photographs of mangled Israeli citizens.”

In Persian, Habib told his escort that the American woman was a formidable opponent. The escort suggested they lift the woman’s skirt to see if she had testicles.

Toni Mitchell, her face flushed red, could not figure out how she stopped herself from digging her four-inch heels into the escort’s groin, but she silently applauded her self-control.

“Why does our dispute with Israel concern your government?” Habib said. “The United States has not been appointed guardian for the entire world.”

“Mr. Habib, your semantics are amusing, but they do not detract from the central issue. My country will not maintain a passive position toward any nation that infringes upon another country’s right to exist as a sovereign state.”

“Ms. Mitchell, I thought perhaps your president would acknowledge Iran’s independence, but that is not the case. Instead, you wish to insult us. I can speak freely for President Ahmadinejad. Your terms are unacceptable to my government. Unless your president agrees to our original proposal, the execution of your Navy pilots is imminent. Their blood will be on your president’s hands.”

“I am also authorized to speak for President Miles. You must immediately release the pilots to the Saudi government before we can continue with any further negotiations. If they are not delivered to the American Consulate here in Riyadh in twelve hours, the United States of America will launch a massive military offensive against an undisclosed Iranian city. And I caution you, Ambassador Habib, our president’s intention is to reduce every structure to a pile of smoldering ashes.”

Habib’s eyes narrowed to a squint, and his lower lip began to tremble.

Toni Mitchell fixed her eyes on Habib’s and maintained a stern expression. “Ambassador Habib, I don’t know how much you know about President Miles, but I can assure you, she is more than what your culture perceives as a stereotypical woman. In fact, she has completely ignored the advice given to her by the Joint Chiefs of Staff. She’s a loose cannon, Mr. Habib, high-strung and frightfully unpredictable. There is no telling what she’s capable of.”

“Your president would kill
thousands
of innocent Iranian citizens?”

“That’s entirely up to your president.”

In their native tongue, the escort said to Habib, “We must consult President Ahmadinejad at once.”

Mitchell expected Habib to respond in Persian and that his comment might reveal what he was thinking. Instead, the ambassador and his escort stood as if on cue. He did not offer his hand or utter another word. He turned and left the room, and his entourage, like baby ducklings, followed him out the door.

Kate was sitting alone in her private office, brooding over the sanity of her military strategy, when Emily buzzed her.

“The secretary of state is on line seven.” Emily’s voice, usually cheery, epitomized the heavy air hanging over the White House. Kate guessed that everyone except the Joint Chiefs and perhaps her father—although he hadn’t offered nor had she asked for his opinion—concluded that their new president was stark raving mad.

McDermott and other concerned Cabinet members had offered—almost insisted—to accompany her while she waited for Mitchell’s call. But Kate, in no mood for insincere encouragement or camaraderie, needed to ride this emotional wave alone. She stared at the telephone, partially wanting to answer it, mostly wishing she could ignore it. In the next few moments, her name could be indelibly etched in history books. Whether as heroine or assassin would soon be determined.

Kate had not been able to erase Lieutenant Travis’s battered face from her mind. But it was not his physical appearance that troubled her. His piercing eyes had delivered a reticent message:

Ignore the script, Madam President. Please save my life
.

His desperate appeal was well hidden, but Kate could clearly see past the smoke screen and recognize the young pilot’s plea. As
her father had suggested, she’d ignored conventional wisdom and listened to her instincts. Had she gambled with American blood? Lieutenants Travis and Stevers might already know whether Kate Miles was their savior or executioner.

Expecting Mitchell’s words to be explosive, Kate lifted the receiver as carefully as she might a time bomb. She forced a swallow and moistened her scratchy throat. “Hello, Toni.”

“Is that you, President Miles?” Toni Mitchell said.

“I’ve been fighting off a cold.” Her voice was raspy. “How did the meeting go?”

“At first, not well. When I warned Habib that you were prepared to level one of Iran’s most populated cities, I managed to capture his undivided attention.”

“And his reaction?”

“He stormed out of the room, quite upset.”

“Was he upset because I ignored Ahmadinejad’s demands or because he believes my threat is legitimate?”

“I’m not sure, Madam President. I tried to deliver a compelling statement. As you requested, I made it clear that you were highly unpredictable and that your goal was to completely level a key city.”

“Did you portray me as a crazy woman with her period?”

“With all due respect, I painted a grim picture of you. Mr. Habib left the meeting believing that the president of the United States is high-strung and perfectly capable of excessive military force.”

“Do you think he was convinced enough to influence Ahmadinejad?”

“I couldn’t read him, Madam President, but I believe we should prepare for a dramatic response.”

“How are you and Richard holding up?”

“Edgy. The waiting drives you mad.”

“Are you comfortable remaining in Riyadh?”

“The Saudi government has been extremely gracious. I am welcome here for as long as necessary.”

“Then we have no choice but to sit tight.”

“The moment I hear anything, I’ll contact you, Madam President.”

Kate swiveled in the chair and looked out the window. Once again, she saw the insolent black crow perched on the white birch. He had returned to taunt her.

“Thank you for delivering my message to Mr. Habib. It must have been quite difficult for you.”

“That’s my job.” The line was silent for a moment. “Madam President, if Iran does not release the pilots, are you fully prepared to initiate a massive air strike?”

She’d asked herself that question a dozen times. “Let’s just pray that I’m not faced with such a decision, Toni.”

***

Kate ignored the greetings and encouragement of her service staff and rushed to her bedroom. She locked the door, lay on the bed, and curled into a fetal position. In less than twelve hours, either Iran would release the pilots or Kate would be facing the most crucial decision of her life. The moment she’d chosen to grandstand Ahmadinejad, Kate had placed herself in an irreversible situation. She had moved a chess piece and could no longer rescind that move. Kate could only hope that a glimmer of reason was suppressed somewhere in Ahmadinejad’s twisted thinking. The Iranian president had never played such a deadly game with a woman from the western hemisphere, and Kate’s entire strategy relied completely on his unfamiliarity with the temperamental female mind. If her instincts did not betray her, and if
Toni Mitchell had convinced Habib that Kate was truly capable of initiating a massive air strike, Ahmadinejad, true to his past cowardice behavior, would not call her bluff.

Kate tried in vain to distract herself from the same menacing thoughts. But nothing could rid her mind of the impending impasse. Ahmadinejad’s silence was like slowly burning splinters under her fingernails. Mitchell had been right: the waiting drives you mad. She did not wish to be alone, but thought it prudent. After all, the president of the United States had an image to uphold. As the leader of the most powerful nation in the world, she did not have the luxury to expose her weaknesses or any emotion that diluted her strength. She wanted to be embraced, needed to feel consoling arms around her, urgently desired to escape from this solitary purgatory, if only for a moment. But Kate did not summon her father. Nor did she call her advisors. The president of the United States was determined to triumph over this relentless demon herself.

***

Carl Kramer snatched the telephone on the first ring.

“Sorry to bother you, mate,” Captain Teddy Daniels said, “but I’ve stumbled upon something I think might interest you.”

Kramer did not utter a word.

“A banking officer at the Island Bank rang me up. Name’s Cybil Curtis. Smashing woman. She saw the clip in the
Cayman News
‘bout the young bloke murdered in the Grand Cayman Hotel. The day Mr. Crandall met his destiny, he withdrew five million dollars cash from the bank. Ms. Curtis handled the transaction. Not sure what it means, my friend, but whoever ended Mr. Crandall’s holiday helped himself to the loot.”

“Any leads?” Kramer asked.

“Not a bloody one.”

“I appreciate the call,” Kramer said.

“I’ll ring you up if I hear anything more. Good luck, mate.”

***

At four a.m., Kate’s telephone rang. It startled her more than woke her. Not too many weeks ago, when McDermott had called her in the middle of the night and announced that President Rodgers was dead, it had changed her life. This particular phone call had the capacity to change it even more. She nervously combed her fingers through her hair and lifted the receiver.

Her voice was unsteady. “President Miles.”

“Sorry about the time, Madam President,” Toni Mitchell said. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“I’d have to be sleeping in order for you to wake me, Toni.”

The secretary of state’s hesitation, Kate feared, was not a good omen. She leaned on an elbow. “Has Ahmadinejad responded?”

“The pilots have been released.”

It was as if every tense muscle in her body had suddenly turned to jelly. Kate hopped off the bed. With the cordless phone in her hand, she whirled around the bedroom like a Munchkin in
The Wizard of Oz
. Thankfully, no one was there to witness her temporary insanity. “Please tell me that they haven’t been seriously injured.”

“Lieutenant Travis—the pilot who was on CNN—sustained superficial injuries, but Lieutenant Stevers’s right knee is in pretty bad shape and needs to be treated by an orthopedic surgeon.”

The timbre in Kate’s voice was brimming with an upbeat tone. “Assure the pilots that they will receive the best medical attention available. Tell them that we will notify their families immediately. As soon as they’re physically able, I would like to invite them to the White House.”

“Lieutenant Travis asked me to apologize to you, Madam President. The Iranians did not give him a choice. Had he refused
to participate in their political propaganda, he was afraid they would torture and kill both of them.”

“Be sure he understands that we never doubted his patriotism.” Kate snatched her lucky silver dollar from the nightstand and pressed it to her heart. “Has the Iranian government issued a statement?”

“Not a word. Ahmad Habib contacted the Saudi ambassador several hours ago and made arrangements for the pilots to be flown to Riyadh. Having dealt with the Iranians in the past, I did not want to call you until I saw the pilots with my own eyes.”

“What do you think is going on?”

“Either Ahmadinejad is planning some form of military retaliation or he’s looking for a shrewd way to save face.”

“The waiting game never ends,” Kate said.

“Would you like Richard and me to remain here?”

Kate contemplated the question. “Will it be beneficial?”

“Perhaps I should fly to Israel and meet with Prime Minister Netanyahu before I come home. Assuring him face-to-face of our continued support might help reinforce our commitment in the Middle East.”

“Why don’t you have Richard accompany you? He has a rapport with the Prime Minister.”

Mitchell hesitated. “I would prefer to go alone, Madam President.”

Kate did not question this request. “Then instruct Richard to fly back to Washington. Contact me when you arrive in Tel Aviv.”