Last Snow - Eric van Lustbader [137]
“I’LL CALL the president,” Jack said, “and tell him what’s going on. He’ll take the appropriate actions as far as General Brandt is concerned.”
“He may, indeed, do that,” Magnussen said, “but do you really think he will hold up the signing of this historic accord based on your say-so?” He shook his head. “We have no hard evidence of Brandt’s personal involvement.”
“But I know he ordered a sanction on Annika,” Jack said. “That, surely, is overstepping his authority.”
“It may or it may not, we have no way of knowing,” Kharkishvili said. “But the thornier issue, the conundrum that we cannot even begin to solve, is if someone is behind General Brandt and, if so, who it is. This is why we need you. Because getting rid of Brandt, even stopping the signing may not be enough to keep Yukin and Batchuk from ordering their troops across the border. You have no idea how desperate Russia is for new energy sources, how far Yukin is prepared to go in order to obtain them.”
“Either way,” Jack said, “I’m going to have to inform the president.”
Magnussen nodded. “We understand that, but before you do we needed to let you know the immense stakes. If Russia moves across the border into Ukraine without that treaty being signed it will trigger a regional war that will quite rapidly escalate, dragging your country into it.”
Jack looked from Magnussen to Kharkishvili. “In other words we’re all damned if the accord is signed and doubly damned if it’s not.”
Kharkishvili nodded. “Unless you can come up with a solution. Annika was right from the beginning: I think you’re the only one who can.”
“What if there is no answer?” Jack said.
“In that event I fear we’re all doomed.” Kharkishvili looked around the room at each of the faces, each one grimmer than the last. “Then everything will come to an end, the greed of wealth, the lust for power. In that final moment, everyone will fall, even the kingpins of empires.”
PRESIDENT EDWARD Carson had just returned from the Kremlin, having received Yukin’s full agreement to the accord. To Carson’s mild surprise the Russian president did not object to the time of the signing tomorrow evening at eight o’clock, local time, noon back home—more than enough time, after the Internet sites and the blogosphere had their say, for all the major news feeds to have developed think pieces that would be popping up on TV just in time for the six and seven o’clock newscasts.
He was sitting down to the first decent meal he’d had in days when his cell phone rang. His entire entourage, including the press secretary, jumped to attention because he was sitting across the table from the senior political correspondent from Time, who was about to engage him in a major interview that would be the magazine’s cover story next week.
The president took the call because it was from Jack. Excusing himself, he stood and whispered into the press secretary’s ear, then hurried out of the hotel dining room, accompanied as always by his Praetorian guard who, in this instance, was loaded down with equipment designed to jam any attempt at electronic eavesdropping.
“Jack, what progress?” Carson said. “And is Alli okay?”
“Alli’s fine, better than fine, in fact.”
“Well, then, it seems that being with you is the best medicine for her.” Carson was immensely grateful. Whatever flicker of jealousy he might have felt was extinguished by Jack’s revelations. His voice seemed to bore through Carson’s head like a power drill.
“Let me get this straight,” Carson said, as he stared through one of the hotel’s plate-glass windows at the snow piling up in Red Square, “you’re telling me that General Brandt has some kind of private deal with Yukin regarding a uranium strike in northeast Ukraine?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“But what about Alizarin Global?”
There was a pause before Jack’s voice buzzed in his ear. “I never heard of Alizarin Global.”
“Neither did I until ten minutes ago when Dennis Paull called.” A young woman was struggling across the vast expanse of Red Square, bent