Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Petrov has requested a call,” Terry told Nick. “Shall we make that happen?”
Usually, those calls took weeks to set up and required numerous staffers to prepare, but these were not normal circumstances, and Nick was eager to hear what Petrov had to say about Russians being responsible for Americans being killed by Russians on U.S.
soil. He needed to be able to explain what’d taken place to the citizens as well as the journalists who were foaming at the mouth over the connection between the bombing and the Russians.
“Why not? I’ve been so looking forward to our next chat.”
Terry laughed and grimaced at the same time. “I’ll set it up.”
No doubt his Russian counterpart was equally eager to know why his vice president had been spending time with the man trying to depose him.
During his morning briefing, Nick had learned Gretchen was much more involved in the Russian resistance movement than she’d let on, even after she was caught with Ivanov.
His team had gone back years to find detailed messages between the two of them that showed her as an active participant in Ivanov’s movement, offering advice, money and tactical support on numerous occasions.
The FBI was looking into whether she’d ever shared classified information with Ivanov.
Ivanov and his movement must’ve been over the moon when she was tapped to be vice president.
“It’s a case of knowing there’s something to find, sir,” Teresa had said when Nick asked how the connection had been missed during the vetting process, “and then looking in the appropriate places. Without knowing what we’re looking for, we never would’ve found it.”
He approved of Gretchen possibly being charged with mishandling classified information. What choice did the DOJ have but to throw the book at someone who’d abused the office of the VP in such a way—even if he supported and respected what Ivanov had been trying to accomplish.
Terry came back to the Oval. “The call with Petrov is set for an hour from now.”
“Will you please call your dad to ask if he can come in? I could really use him right now. If he’s available, send a car for him.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Thank you.”
After attending numerous briefings and consuming voluminous documents pertaining to Russia, Nick was out of his league dealing with Petrov, who’d been the Russian president since 2012.
Despite being shunned and sanctioned by most of the world, Petrov ruled with an iron fist and an eye toward expanding his already-massive empire.
Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine four years ago, Petrov and his country had become further isolated, which hadn’t done a thing to stop the bloodshed.
Would Nick put it past Petrov to have the biggest thorn in his side killed when Ivanov was in the United States so he could spin it as something he had nothing to do with?
Not for one second, but since he’d probably never be able to prove the order to murder Ivanov had come from the Kremlin, he would use the murder and bombing to extract whatever concessions he could from Petrov.
Nick understood that he didn’t possess a devious enough mind to fully engage with someone like Petrov, who epitomized the word evil. While Nick had to deal with him, he refused to stoop to his level.
It was a relief to hear from Terry that Graham was on the way, bringing forty years of experience in dealing with Russia and its leadership.
Thirty minutes later, Graham O’Connor came bursting into the Oval Office, looking as if he’d just come in from riding when he was summoned. He wore a chambray shirt, jeans and boots, and his white hair was windblown, his complexion ruddy, as always, from spending most of his time outside.
“I hear you’ve got yourself an international conflagration, my friend.” He walked toward the Resolute Desk to shake hands with Nick before dropping into a chair.
“That I do.” Nick caught him up on what they knew so far and what was apt to come up in the call with Petrov.
“Two immediate thoughts. One, what the hell was Henderson thinking, and two, you need to have Petrov recall his ambassador. He’s clearly lost control of his personnel if they’re using bombs to accomplish their goals.”
“That’s on the agenda. We believe it’s possible that Henderson was sharing classified information with Ivanov.”
“Holy Moses.”
“I’m incredulous over the whole thing and thoroughly investigating the intelligence breakdown. Teresa says it was missed because of the encrypted messages and calls they used to stay in touch. She says it’s a matter of not knowing where to look until we did. Do you buy that?”
“I’ve heard of instances like that before.
Something like this wouldn’t pop because when she was friends with him back in the day, social media didn’t exist, and if they were using encrypted channels to stay in touch, that wouldn’t show up in routine vetting.
However, that said, the onus was on her to disclose the relationship, which she didn’t do.
I agree with charging her to send the message that such things won’t be tolerated.
Hopefully, DOJ will come to the same conclusion. ”
“Thank you for the perspective. You’ve given me the language I need to address what will be treated as a huge intelligence failure by Congress and the media.”
The BlackBerry buzzed with a text from Sam. Call me. 911.
“Excuse me for one second.”
“Do your thing,” Graham said, clearly delighted to be there.
Sam picked right up when he called her. “Hey, I wanted you to know that Henderson told me she was sleeping with Ivanov.”
“She came right out and told you that?”
“Not exactly, but I wore her down.”
“I’ll bet you enjoyed that.”
“Are you accusing me of being petty?”
“Nah, never,” he said, smiling.
“She did mention how I never liked her, and I set her straight and said I never trusted her, which turned out to be for good reason. The FBI arrived to bring her in for more questioning as I was leaving. What’s up with that?”
“We’ve learned her ties to Ivanov run deep, and even though we support his cause behind the scenes, her actions undercut official U.S.
policy and have caused a mess that I have to clean up.
Everything between them was encrypted, which is why it wasn’t picked up during the vetting.
As far as I can tell, this was a sophisticated operation.
Ivanov and the other leaders of the resistance must’ve been over the moon when she became VP. ”
“She swore she had nothing to do with the movement and had been out of touch with him until she became VP.”
“From what I can tell, that’s a lie, but I’ll leave it to the FBI and the intelligence team to sort out. I’m speaking to Petrov shortly. I asked Graham to come in for assistance.”
“That’s a good call. Speaking of people you can trust.”
“Exactly.”
A thought occurred to Nick that had him wondering why he hadn’t considered it in the first place…
“What’s your next move in the investigation?” he asked Sam.
“Going to speak to Gretchen’s most recent ex-husband.”
“How’s he involved?”
“I’m not sure yet if he is, but since she was sleeping with Ivanov, I asked myself who might be upset about that and landed on him.”
“Your mind is endlessly intriguing, my love.”
“Some people would call it annoying.”
“I’m not some people. I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Good luck with Petrov.”
“Thank you. Be safe out there. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Nick put down the BlackBerry and turned to Graham, who was scrolling on his phone while he waited. “I have a question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“How would you feel about being vice president?”
Graham looked up, glasses perched on his nose, left eyebrow raised. “Of what? The local Elks Lodge?”
“Haha. You know what I’m asking you.”
“Are you for real right now?”
“So for real. You should’ve been my first choice all along.
” The more Nick thought about it, the more he loved the idea.
He’d still get credit for choosing the first female vice president, which had been important to him.
“Having you as my VP would solve a number of problems for me, chief among them the experience-gap issue. If you’re in the room when all the big decisions are made, it takes some of the steam out of that nonsense. ”
Graham stared at him, seemingly in disbelief. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
“Laine would murder us both.”
“No, she wouldn’t, and it’d be temporary. Two and a half years to be called Mr. Vice President for the rest of your life.”
Graham flashed a grin. “It does have a nice ring to it.”
“What does?” Terry asked when he joined them.
“I’ve asked your dad to be our new VP.”
Terry’s face lit up with pleasure. “What? Really?”
“Those were my questions, too,” Graham said with a smile for his son.
“Yes, really, and it’s the best idea I ever had, thanks to something Sam said, so she gets partial credit. The right person has been here the whole time, and it would be a privilege to get to take the rest of this ride with you by my side. Say yes.”
“Mr. President, Nick… I’m eighty years old. No one wants an old dude like me hanging around past his expiration date. You need someone young and dynamic and full of energy. That’s not me. Not anymore.”
“Oh, please. You do more in a day than most men half your age. You know more about this job than I do, and I need you. The media is already shredding me on Henderson turning into a disaster. I need a slam-dunk replacement, and that’s you.”
“You’d be an amazing VP, Dad.”
“Your mother would kill me—and Nick. We’d have to move. There’d be Secret Service and endless obligations. We’re in bed at eight o’clock most nights. We get annoyed when our friends invite us to dinner.”
Nick and Terry laughed at his grimace.
“It’s two and a half years, Graham.”
“You told us on Easter that you miss the rat race,” Terry reminded his father.
“Did he say that?” Nick asked.
“Sure did.”
“Don’t tell tales out of school, son,” Graham said with a scowl.
Terry laughed. “I speak the truth.”