The Return of the Marines Trilogy Page 9

  No one had said much for the last several minutes, each lost in thought on events taking place halfway around the world. Col Lineau sipped his coffee, wishing there was some sort of direct action, something he could be doing right now. But he was ordered to wait.

  There was a thunder of feet coming down the passage, then a pounding knock on the door. Before Col Lineau could respond, the hatch burst open and Private Smith, one of the newest Marines, burst in, white duty belt around his waist, his face flushed. The three men, nerves taut, jumped to their feet.

  “Sir, request permission to speak!” And before a response, “I have the Marines in India and the president on my duty phone. And they want to speak with you!”

  Lineau’s mouth dropped open as his mind reeled. “How did you get that call?” He struggled for understanding.

  “I don’t know sir. My phone just rang, and then there was a gunny, then the president. They want you now!”

  Unbelievable or not, a possible prank or not, Col Lineau snapped to and started running out the hatch, Huff, Saunders, and Smith right behind as they all sprinted down the passage, out the building, and over to the company office building. Staff Sergeant Felicia Boyles saw them through the window as they ran up, and tried to call the admin office to attention, her apprehension obvious on her face. The foursome never slowed, but ran down the passage to the duty office. They rushed in, and Col Lineau paused a second, catching his breath, before lifting the phone receiver from the desk.

  “This is Col Lineau.”

  “Colonel! This is Gunny McCardle! We have been under attack, and we’re trapped in the embassy. I’ve got President Eduardo with me. We’ve got no comms, and—”

  “Let me have that, Sergeant,” Colonel Lineau heard over the phone. “Colonel, this is President Eduardo. I’m going to give you a direct order as your Commander in Chief. I want you to get the White House on the line, and I want you to do it now. I want to speak with my chief of staff, and I want to speak with the vice-president. I want action taken to retake this embassy. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir!” He frantically mouthed to LtCol Saunders to get RADM Cates on the other line. “Uh, Mr. President, can I please speak with Gunnery Sergeant McCardle? I need to make sure we keep this connection.”

  There was a pause, then, “Gunny McCardle, sir.”

  “Gunny Mac! The news reported that all communications were cut, and we sure haven’t been able to get through to you. How are you calling me? And why is the president calling us here?”

  “Well sir, we sort of hacked to one of LCpl Steptoe’s buds in Katmandu, and he’s patching us through. And the duty was the only number any of us knew offhand.”

  “OK. Good thinking. I’m going to give this to SgtMaj Huff. Do not hang up!” He handed the phone to the Sergeant Major, then turned to LtCol Saunders. “You got him, Tye?”

  Saunders shook his head and handed over the phone. Col Lineau put the handset to his ear and heard the cheery hold music.

  “Mike, ask Mac for the name and the number of that contact in Katmandu.”

  “This is RADM Cates.”

  “Admiral, this is Colonel Lineau. I am in contact with our detachment in New Delhi. They have the president with them, and he wants his chief of staff and the vice-president on the line. If we can get a number, I can have them call, but frankly, I’m afraid to lose the connection. I’d like to patch them directly through this number here.”

  To his credit, Chance Cates didn’t hesitate or question his subordinate. And less than two minutes later, there was a click as the White House communications technicians electronically hooked into the Headquarters Company duty phone. SgtMaj Huff caught the Commandant’s eye, then hit the speaker button and the voices came over to fill the office.

  “Mr. President, this is Arnie. Are you OK? Are you safe?”

  “Just a second sir. This is Gunnery Sergeant McCardle. Let me hand you over to him.”

  Arnold Hatch was the president’s chief of staff. He had never met the president before the Republican Party had essentially foisted him on nominee Eduardo, and at first glance, the older, overweight Arnie seemed the antithesis of the personable, charismatic nominee, but quickly the two had forged a true friendship based on respect and admiration. Arnie was the president’s man.

  “Arnie, is that you?”

  “Sir, I can’t tell you how good it is to hear your voice. We haven’t had a clear picture of what is going on. Are you OK? Are you safe?”

  “I’m a little dinged up, but I’m safe for the moment, I guess. I don’t have any special agents with me, just a few Marines and an Army major, so I don’t know how secure this is. What is going on back there? What are you doing?”

  “The vice-president has the principles in the situation room, but no one knows just what is going on. She called in the Indian ambassador and has tried to call the prime minister.”

  “Has the military been given orders?”

  “Well, sir, there has been some debate as to that. No one knows just what orders to give just yet.”

  “Arnie, get her on the phone. I want the military to move. We cannot be seen as weak.”

  “They’re patching her in now, too. I told them to patch me in first. She should be here in a second.”

  “This situation is outrageous. Why hasn’t the prime . . . wait a second.” There was a muffled sound of someone talking, then the president came back on. “Arnie, one of the soldiers here tells me that this line is not secure. He doesn’t think anyone is monitoring it, but that it could be monitored. I think it’s a good idea if we speak with that in mind.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “I heard that too, Mr. President. Are you safe?” the vice-president said, joining the conversation.

  “Vice-President Wright. For the moment, I’m safe Ambassador Tankersly is dead, and I don’t know how many other people. We’ve got half the diplomatic community over at the consulate, and about a million Indians outside the gates. I’d say the situation is serious. What are you doing about it?”

  “Mr. President, the Indian ambassador should be here within minutes. The prime minister has not accepted my call. I keep getting told that he is not available at the moment.”

  “What does the director say about this?”

  The director of the CIA, Kaiyen Lin, was a trusted advisor to the president, and had been since his days in congress.

  “They’re in touch with their sources right now, but she thinks that there are indications that the government is at least passively supporting the mob. At least they helped organize the demonstration.”

  “She thinks that? I can’t believe it. They’re going to attack sovereign US soil over jobs? Just get the prime minister on the hook and patch me through to him. I want to talk to him face-to-face. We are going to resolve this, and now. What about the military? What are they doing?”

  “They’ve been placed on alert, of course, but no specific orders have been given yet. This doesn’t fall under any of our contingency plans, as you know,”

  Vice-President Wright said.

  “I don’t care what plans there are or are not,” the president said, almost in a shout. “I’m here on the ground, and this is an attack on US soil. I hope the Indian government gets things straightened out soon, but until then, I want our military moving, and I want them moving now. That is what we pay them for, to protect US citizens.”

  “Of course, Mr. President. General Litz reports that we have the Ronald Reagan Battle Group in Thailand right now, and we have our units in Guam and Japan, but nothing is really close.”

  “What about Diego Garcia? What’s there?”

  There was a pause and some mumbles voices as the vice-president asked someone a question. “There isn’t much there, only some support forces, ours and the Brits.”

  “Well then, I guess you have some work to do, Vice-President Wright. I want you to keep this line open. Have someone report back to me in 15 minutes as to what’s going on.”<
br />
  “Of course, Mr. President. We’re working it.”

  As the speaker on the desk became quiet, the three Marines looked at each other. Col Lineau turned off the speaker.

  “Mike, someone is going to think of this sooner or later, but send Gunny Cassel from the embassy in Katmandu to secure LCpl Steptoe’s friend and his phone. You can be sure that State and the Secret Service and every other cat and dog will get there soon, and their priorities aren’t going to be our Marines. I want one of ours there to let us know what’s being passed on that line. And put someone else in here. I want a SNCO along with Private Smith to watch this phone. Tye, I want every swinging dick here in full battle rattle and ready to move in two hours.”

  “What is going on, sir? Where are we going?” his XO asked.

  “Nowhere yet. I’ve got to make some calls first. I just want every possible body we’ve got here ready to go. Call Norm at Camp David and tell him the same. Every sickbay commando, every clerk, every possible Marine.”

  He turned the speaker back on, then turned and left the office. He had work to do.

  Chapter 14

  Early Tuesday Morning, The White House, Washington, DC

  Vice-President Wright strode back into the situation room from the communications room where she had taken the call, Arnold following in her wake. She looked at the technicians who were feverishly connecting another phone. It was astounding, really, that in the heart of the White House, where decisions were made, they had not been able to simply transfer the call. Some problem with interoperability between the secure and non-secure lines, the communications chief had said.

  “Well, I’ve spoken to him. He is safe for the moment, but rather agitated.”

  She looked at the gathered movers and shakers sitting around the edge of the table. There was a face she didn’t recognize.

  “Who are you?” she asked the young woman.

  “Stacy Barnet, ma’am. Homeland Security. The secretary was on the Eastern Shore for the night and is on his way now. I’m here to take notes until he gets here.”

  The vice-president merely grunted. She looked around again. “Where is the Indian ambassador?” she asked to no one in particular.

  “He is pulling into the grounds now,” replied a staffer, a communications bud in his ear.

  “OK. When he arrives, get him to my office. I want to see him right away. General Litz, the president wants our military to move on this, in case things go south on us. With everyone else in the room here, please repeat what you told me about our options.”

  “Yes ma’am. Well, our options are limited, actually. We have the Reagan Battle Group on liberty in Thailand, and a few scattered ships in the Indian Ocean. We have our civil affairs units in the Horn of Africa, and our air and army assets in Guam and Japan. We could bomb the bejesus out of India if we wanted, but in a situation like this, I’m not sure we have the assets to take any effective action.”

  The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, a former Air Force bomber pilot, looked uncomfortable and he glanced back down at his notes.

  “NORAD has just been placed on our highest alert posture, and the Quick Reaction Brigade in Korea has been placed on alert as well. They can be ready to move in 90 minutes, and we can get them to Thailand, Diego Garcia, or possibly even Sri Lanka, but we don’t have any assets to get them all the way to New Delhi. Logistically, we could do an air drop with an airborne battalion, but even if the Indians just stood by for that, it’d be almost impossible to get them all to a landing at the embassy grounds.”

  “Surely you don’t mean for us to physically invade India? That is ludicrous!” Simon Pitt, the Secretary of State, blurted out.

  “No, Mr. Secretary, I do not. I’m just laying out our options.”

  “Well, that’s one far-fetched option, doing a parachute invasion of India.”

  “Granted, Mr. Secretary. I don’t think it can even be done if I thought it was a good idea, and I don’t think that,” the general said, looking annoyed.

  Vice-President Wright interrupted, “Look, no one is advocating any sort of attack here. The Indian government will have to restore order, and we’ll have to craft our response to this. Let’s all keep cool heads, now.”

  The staffer with the com earbuds moved forward and whispered into her ear, “Madame Vice-President, the Indian ambassador has arrived.”

  She nodded. “People, the ambassador is here. Mr. Lefever, if you will accompany me. General Litz, keep all our forces on alert as you deem fit. But get that carrier group out at sea and moving toward India.”

  “That could be seen as a provocative movement, Madam Vice-President,” Secretary Pitt said.

  “Storming our embassy, killing our ambassador, and keeping our president hostage are also provocative, Mr. Pitt.”

  She motioned to the Secretary of Defense to join her. They stepped out of the door and waited for the Secretary of State to move out of earshot.

  Jennifer Wright and Paul Lefever had worked together for years, he in various positions in the Department of Defense, and she as a congresswoman. He owed his current position to her, and they were as strong allies as anyone could be within the Beltway. Both disapproved of the way then Senator Eduardo had cut the military budget, and neither really had a high opinion of the man.

  “Paul, we need to move on this,” she said quietly. “But Pitt is right, as hard as it is to admit this. We really don’t want a war with India. So let’s move the Reagan. Let the world see that. But a few ships off the coast can’t really do much. And if we don’t have the forces to do anything, well, then that is the fault of those who did not want to pay for a strong military, and matters are just going to have to progress as they will.”

  She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t have to, and some things are better left unsaid.

  Paul Lefever looked deeply into the vice-president’s eyes and nodded. She knew he understood her.

  The vice-president, secret service agents leading the way, walked back to her office. Her staff secretary was standing, waiting for her.

  “Ma’am, the ambassador is waiting in your office.”

  Several men, obviously from the Indian embassy, were sitting on the couch in the reception area, and they came to their feet at her arrival.

  “Thank you Ann. Please make sure no one disturbs us.”

  She caught sight of David hovering off to the side, his eyes asking if he could join her. She shook her head no and walked in. The ambassador was standing facing her desk, back to the door, arms clasped behind his back. He turned around at her entrance and stepped forward, offering his hand. She ignored it and moved around him to her desk and sat down. He held his hand out for a few moments then slowly lowered it.

  She looked at him, seeing a man not quite sure of himself. From the contact notes given to her by her staff, she knew he was political appointee and had been ambassador in the US for over a year. With a masters from Brown University, his success in building a chemical empire and his financial support to his political party (well, perhaps that more than anything else) had gotten him the appointment. She had seen him at a few functions, but she had never really had any contact with him.

  “Well, Mr. Ghosh, what is the Indian government doing about this unfortunate situation?”

  “Madam Vice-President, first, accept my apologies for this incident. The people of India abhor violence, and the government is working feverishly to find a peaceful solution to the situation at your embassy.”

  “A peaceful solution? I don’t see anything being done there. Does that look like anything is being done?” she asked, pointing to the televisions at the front of the office where CNN and Fox were broadcasting the scene.

  He turned around, looked at the screen, then faced her again before saying, “Madam Vice-President. I just got off the phone with our office of external affairs. I’ve been assured that progress is being made with the people outside the embassy.”

  “Progress? I don’t want to hear ‘progress!�
�� You have police, you have your army. The life of the president is in your hands along with half the diplomatic community of New Delhi, and you talk about progress?”

  “Madam Vice-President. It is not that easy. Most of these people are peaceful protesters. They have a right to be there. And if we move in rashly to secure the area, they could erupt into violence,” he said.

  “Could erupt into violence? Mr. Ambassador, you don’t think there has already been violence? Ambassador Tankersly has been killed, and the president is being held prisoner in his own embassy. And you tell me the ‘people’ have the right to ‘protest.’ What kind of unmitigated gall is that?”

  On the defensive, the ambassador now seemed to grow a little bit of a spine.

  “Madam Vice-President, we are the largest democracy in the world. Larger than the US, I might add. Despite the efforts of the US to keep India in thrall, we are an independent, democratic people. Our government is not going to go in shooting, massacring perhaps thousands of Indian citizens and endangering the people in the embassy as well. We are going to do this right, with no further loss of life.”

  She saw the change in his demeanor and knew it was time to pull back. And while she almost would not admit it yet to herself, she really did not want a quick and safe solution. She had to couch what she said next in careful terms. History did not look kindly on leaders who let personal goals get in the way of what should be done, even if she fervently believed the nation would be better off with her at the helm rather than the current occupant of the White house.

  “Mr. Ambassador, I realize that India is a great democracy. And no matter what happens, the US isn’t about to do anything rash. India and the US are too close, and we are not going to let anything jeopardize our overall relations.”

  She hoped the message that the US would not take military action was coming through, and that there would be no serious retaliatory measures taken should the worst come to pass.