in the Secretary’s laptop.
She called up her schedule. “Try two p.m. tomorrow. Tell him I want a repeat of the briefing he gave the President with copies of all the relevant give-to-Russia legislation. Also documentation on all of the nuclear money given to Russia so far and what is pledged for the future. I’ll need a track of who, what Russian body or bodies, has received the money. What agreements the Russians have signed.”
Crisp was writing as quickly as his pen could move. He was comforted by the knowledge that what Herself (as he often privately named the Secretary) was saying was being recorded, a backstop to his notes.
“Keep in mind,” she said, as her eyes went from the computer to Crisp’s intent face, “that Ross doesn’t know — not yet — about the President’s instructions to me about...”
“The ultimatum.”
“Exactly. It’s Ross’s idea, but you and I are the only people who know what the President wants to do with it. I want to keep it that way.”
“Understood.”
“If your notes make any reference to the word...”
“I haven’t used it.”
“Good. And edit it out of the tape of this conversation as soon as we’re finished.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The next item is arranging a meeting with Russian Deputy Prime Minister Ivanov. He will be representing his President for the Norwegian prime minister’s wedding — and I will be there representing our President. Convenient coincidence.”
She went back to her computer for the dates. “The wedding is on June tenth, thirty-six days from now. I’m scheduled to arrive in Norway the day before at noon. We can change that to two days before on the eighth. Bookings are made in Oslo at the Holmenkollen Hotel for all of my team plus secret service. You’ll be minding the store here.”
“To my regret. Are you sure you don’t want me with you when you’re head to head with Ivanov?”
“Nice question. I’ll have to think about that.”
“On the other hand, Secretary, you’re the expert on all things Russian.”
She paused as the question turned over in her mind.
“I’ll come back to that question.” She was thinking about the logistics of the meeting. “Frankly, I don’t want to make a public show of getting together with Ivanov. It should be private, away from the media. I don’t want them to know about it — when we’re meeting or where. Nothing.”
Crisp replied, “In that event you don’t want to do the Oslo International Airport. If your aircraft...”
“Probably one of the President’s Air Force One aircraft.”
“If it’s seen by the media at the Oslo airport there’s really no way to have a secret meeting there. And a meeting — secret — in the hotel at Oslo wouldn’t be possible. Too many leaks.” Crisp had a suggestion. “There’s a remote but well-equipped airport about an hour, air time, to the west of Oslo on the Norway coast at Stavanger. U.S. aircraft are in there frequently. We could arrange a secure meeting there. Ivanov could fly in; the aircraft could park next to each other. The meeting could take place on his or yours.”
The Secretary smiled her approval. “I like that, Jason. Yes. It sounds good. See what you can do to make it happen.”
“I can take a direct shot at Ivanov’s staff to make the arrangements.”
“Yes. And Stavanger. It would work perfectly. I haven’t met Ivanov. I hope he’ll be interested in meeting me.”
Crisp smiled knowingly. “I suspect he’ll be keen, really keen, to meet with you, Madam Secretary.”
She grumped, “God, I hate that ‘Madam’ stuff. It really should be ‘Miss’ or just plain ‘Secretary.’”
“Of course, Secretary, I understand. I’ll have to make special arrangements with the Norwegian government — permission, security, all the protocol things. And a helicopter to take you from Stavanger to the hotel in Oslo.”
“Why not take my aircraft from Stavanger to Oslo?”
“Because the airport’s so far away from the city, close to an hour by car. If we do Stavanger the helicopter is the best bet.”
“Do Stavanger.”
“Okay. Now how do we ... what do we tell Ivanov the topic is, the subject of this special secret meeting?”
“I’ll draft a letter, as the President has instructed. I’ll run it by you to make sure I haven’t used any undiplomatic language. You can use it to open the door with Ivanov’s people. Give me a few minutes to put something together. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”
The draft the Secretary composed on her laptop read:
The President of the United States has instructed me to arrange an urgent, private meeting with you to discuss a matter of high importance.
The topic is a review of the several programs under which the United States in particular and its allies in general are funding the various nuclear waste disposal activities being carried out by Russia. In essence the President is concerned that every possible precaution is being taken to ensure that nuclear proliferation is prevented, that security is at a maximum in those places where high-level nuclear waste is stored, and that the removal of nuclear reactors from the decommissioned submarines in the Kola Peninsula is proceeding in accordance with the undertakings of your Government.
My President has also instructed me to put before you a new proposal to enhance Russia’s ability to securely dispose of its many tonnes of surplus plutonium stocks and its troublesome high-level nuclear waste that exists at many locations across your vast nation.
The Under Secretary of State, Mr. Jason Crisp, will be in contact with your office to arrange a meeting of convenience in Norway. We will be suggesting the afternoon two days before the Norwegian wedding that, I am advised, you are scheduled to attend, as am I.
I look forward to our first meeting, Minister Ivanov, and to dealing co-operatively with you, a person of high esteem and broad experience.
I trust that you will be able to accommodate this request.
The Secretary’s letter, with minor Crisp modifications, was translated into Russian. The faxed copy was on the desk of Ivanov’s secretary at the Kremlin within an hour of the Secretary of State’s placing her legible signature upon it.
CHAPTER 3
The letter from the Secretary of State was the first item of morning business on Ivanov’s pile of material. It demanded his attention before the latest violence in Chechnya, before the testy relationship with the scarred prime minister of the Ukraine, before the latest NATO threat to take in another former Soviet bloc country.
Ivanov had yet to meet the formidable Secretary of State. Even so he knew, as he should, a great deal about his American counterpart. When she was nominated by the U.S. president to be secretary, Ivanov ordered his staff to prepare the book on this amazing, sharp-minded, cool-tongued black woman whom he would have to deal with, face across some table, somewhere and soon.
The Secretary was indeed formidable. She was an academic specialist on Russia, a full giver/taker in debate, invariably having the best answer to the toughest questions from the roughest Congressional panellists.
This was the first missive from the new face representing the goals, ambitions, and objectives of the American people as seen by their President. Because of her long, close association with him as his national security advisor and as the most loyal of his loyals, her power would be enormous, Ivanov knew, much greater than that of her predecessor, the much admired American icon Colin Powell.
Her