Читать книгу A Richard Rohmer Omnibus - Richard Rohmer - Страница 20

Air Force One / 11:50 a.m., EDT

The President made his way from the cockpit of the 747 to the circular stairs which took him down to the office in the forward cabin of the aircraft.

When it was built, Air Force One had been designed to make it possible for the President to carry on the nation’s business almost as easily from the aircraft as from the White House. At the front, normally the first-class area, the President had his private office. In the midsection was a complex of offices housing the secretarial staff and communications centres for telex and telephone links to the ground, as well as a sophisticated system of computers, radar, ground and satellite communication which linked Air Force One with the military surveillance and communication network. Here, too, was the small, sound-insulated TV studio from which the President would broadcast to the nation. At the rear of the aircraft were the President’s sleeping quarters and accommodation for the staff.

As he came down the stairs, the President could see Irving Wolf and Al Johnston sitting opposite each other at a desk on the port side of the aircraft. These were his two top advisers. Through them the President maintained his contact with the world. From them came the ideas, analyses, considerations and judgments upon which the man in the world’s top position of power had to rely.

Wolf got up and moved towards him, breaking off an animated discussion with Johnston. He was clutching a sheaf of papers. “We’ve been having an argument on one or two points, Mr. President.”

The President smiled. “I can certainly see that, Irving.”

Wolf looked slightly embarrassed. “I guess you can, but this is an important statement we’re putting together, and we just aren’t seeing eye to eye on it.”

The President reached for the papers in Wolf’s hand and said, “If you two didn’t have different opinions, neither one of you would be worth a damn to me. Let’s see what it’s all about.”

Suddenly there was a startled shout from Al Johnston. “For God’s sake, look at that! What the hell do they think they’re doing?” He was looking out the window on the port side, just a little ahead of where the President and Wolf were standing by the staircase. The President went immediately to the window.

A fighter aircraft was there, its wing-tip fitted closely under the wing of the 747. He recognized the plane immediately. It was a Canadian CF5 fighter, one of the American-designed, Canadian-built aircraft that had come down the production line in the early 70’s. The fighter pilot, whoever he was, certainly knew how to fly. The CF5 was tucked in solid as a rock, just as if it was tied to the 747. The plane gleamed silver in the sunlight, its maple leaf markings boldly defined, and a blazing white vapour trail stretched out behind it. To the President it was a spectacular sight.

Suddenly a thought struck him. He went quickly over to the starboard side of the aircraft and looked out toward the wing-tip. Johnston followed. Sure enough, there was another CF5 in exactly the same position. The President was almost beside himself with admiration and envy. Without taking his eyes off the CF5 he said, “Al, that’s one of the most beautiful sights in the world. Look at the way that boy’s flying that airplane!”

Johnston, who was not an airman, could only say, “How the hell can we get those bastards away from us? They’re going to kill us for sure.”

The President patted his right shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t you fuss, Al. The boy in that plane knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m going to try to talk to him.” He walked forward to a telephone sitting on the desk and punched the button marked “Captain.” When Wypich responded he said, “Mike, I want to talk to those two boys sitting on your wing-tips.”

“What two boys?”

“Haven’t you seen them? We’ve got two of the neatest, shiniest CF5’s you’ve ever seen, one on each wing-tip. I guess they’re a bit far back for you to spot.”

There was a pause. “Well, I’ll be damned. I guess those are the two aircraft that Boston Control reported to us about three minutes ago, just as you were leaving the flight deck, Mr. President.”

“Must be, Mike. It looks as if the Canadians are telling us we’re over their real estate. Try to make contact, will you?”

“Yes, sir. Stand by one.”

The President could hear the captain talking to his copilot. “What’s the serial number of the aircraft on the starboard side?”

“It’s 411.”

Then the captain transmitted, “Canforce 411, this is Air Force One on 117.8. Do you read me?”

Immediately a voice came back. “Air Force One, this is Canforce 411. Good morning. We’re instructed to welcome you and your distinguished passenger to Canada. My wing man and I will fly with you for the next half hour, then you’ll be picked up by two other aircraft from my base. We will have someone with you all the way to Resolute, purely as a matter of courtesy, you understand, Colonel Wypich.”

The President, listening to the conversation, grinned broadly when the fighter pilot casually let it be known that he knew the name of the captain of the 747. He spoke into his telephone, “Mike, can I transmit using this telephone?”

“Yes, Mr. President. Just push the button on the top right-hand corner.”

The President pushed the button, and looking out the window at the sleek fighter said, “Canforce 411, good morning. This is the President speaking. Give me your ident, please.”

“Good morning, sir. I’m Colonel Jack Prince. I command the Canadian forces base at Bagotville, Quebec. I was instructed by Ottawa to take charge of this escort operation. On the port wing-tip is Lieutenant Colonel Jean Belisle. He commands 433 squadron at Bagotville.”

Belisle broke in. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, son. We’re sure glad to have you boys along. We’re going from here across to Churchill. First I want to take a look at the big new deep-water port you people are building up there. Then I’m going straight north to Resolute.”

Colonel Prince’s voice came back. “Sorry we won’t be going all the way, sir. We’ll be with you for the next half hour, then you’ll be picked up by another team.”

“Fine, Colonel, fine,” responded the President. “But now I’d be obliged if you’d do me a favour. My staff on this big bird aren’t really used to seeing airplanes fly so close and they’re getting a little uptight about it. It doesn’t bother me one bit, but I’d appreciate it if you’d park your aircraft about two hundred yards out in battle formation. It would make everybody here just a little more comfortable.”

“Wilco, sir,” said the Colonel, and passed the word to his wing man. “Battle formation, Jean. Go!”

With that, both fighters turned outward. The Colonel took up his position about two hundred yards abreast of Air Force One on the starboard side, while Belisle’s aircraft did the same on the port.

As the President put down the telephone Wypich entered the cabin from the cockpit. “Sir, you mentioned Churchill to the Canadian pilots but I don’t have that in your instructions.”

“That’s right, Mike. It struck me as I talked to those young fellows that we would be passing pretty close to Churchill, so I thought it would be a good idea just to go by and take a look at the new port from low level. When we get there let’s go down to about two thousand feet and then head for Resolute.”

The captain said, “Yes, sir,” and went back up the circular stairs.

The President walked over and sat down beside his aides. “O.K., Irving,” he said. “The pilots have given us lots of room. Now you two can relax.”

Wolf nodded. “Here’s your speech, Mr. President. Your rough draft was excellent in parts but, if you’ll pardon the expression, pretty damn awful in others. When you read this draft you’ll probably say I’ve screwed up the excellent parts and left in the bad ones. Anyway, here it is.”

The President smiled. He found Irving’s dry wit refreshing.

Wolf had first impressed him more than a decade earlier when he had testified before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee regarding the pressure being brought to bear on the United States by the OPEC countries. On that occasion, Wolf had presented a superb exposé of the increasingly-difficult and complex problem confronted by the U.S. in its relationship with the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries. Many of these nations were Arab and, as Wolf had skilfully explained, had combined to exert leverage on the United States to cease supporting Israel by supplying it with money and military equipment.

After the testimony, the Senator had sought out Wolf, befriended him and asked for the opportunity, readily granted by Wolf, to consult with him from time to time on questions of international trade and world diplomacy. So it was only natural that when he began his drive for the presidency he invite Irving Wolf to become part of the team. After the election, the President selected Wolf, not as a member of the Cabinet but as his special assistant and adviser on a broad range of matters assigned to him. With that recognition, real power came into the hands of Irving Wolf, power which he did not hesitate to use.

When the native people of the Northwest Territories and Yukon had begun, only a few days before, to blow up sections of the Mackenzie pipeline, it was Wolf who had recognized that the President would have to take action immediately to protect American interests in the area. It was Wolf who proposed the ultimatum and who drafted its terms. Despite the President’s reluctance, Wolf had convinced him and the Cabinet at the meeting which had taken place the evening before, and it was Wolf who had secured agreement on the strategy of sanctions which the President could impose to enforce the ultimatum.

Now he sat watching the President, his scythe-like nose pinched between his index fingers, a gesture of contemplation for which he was now famous. He was not worried that the President would reject or alter the draft speech; that seldom happened. Rather he was considering the implications of the economic sanctions he had proposed against Canada, the first of which was to take effect at twelve noon.

As he expected, the President, when he had finished reading, took off his glasses, sat back and put his hands behind his head. After a few moments’ silence he drawled, “That’s fine, Irving. Looks good to me. But I tell you I’m still not happy about threatening to put a bullet between the eyes of the Canadians. It makes me very uneasy. I’m concerned about the ultimatum, and I’m concerned about the sanctions.”

He stood up. “However, we’ve done it, and we’ll stick by it. How much time have we got until I do the broadcast?”

Wolf looked at his watch and said, “Seventeen minutes, Mr. President. The networks have cleared you for 12:30. The TV studio back there is all set.”

“You mean aft, Irving, not back,” the President chuckled. “Don’t forget, you’re on a ship.”

Wolf smiled and shrugged. “The studio aft is all set. They’ve got the Presidental Seal in place and the flag behind the table so that everybody who is watching you will think you’re right in the White House. They’ll get a hell of a shock when they find out you’ve been broadcasting from Air Force One over Canadian territory via the Canadian satellite Anik 3.”

“Why are we using that satellite and not one of our own?”

“Oh, I gather the orbit is a little better for our position and the transmission will be clearer. Some time ago we rented two of the surplus TV channels on Anik 3. We’ll use one of them this morning.”

As the President turned toward the tail of the aircraft, Al Johnston came up behind him and said, “Mr. President, Prime Minister Porter wants to speak with you. His office says it’s very urgent.”

The President checked his watch. “There isn’t much time. It’ll have to be short.” He followed Johnston back to the telephone. Johnston picked it up.

“Senator Thomas, the President will speak with the Prime Minister but it’s got to be short because, as you know, he’s going to address the nation in a very few moments.”

Senator Thomas’ voice came back. “We understand. I’ll get the PM. Hang on, please.”

In a few seconds the Prime Minister came on the line. When he was on, the President took the telephone from his aide and the two exchanged terse greetings.

The President said, “What can I do for you?”

Porter replied, “You gave me an arbitrary deadline of six o’clock tomorrow night. I’ve talked to my people here and I don’t know if we can get Parliament reconvened and all the steps properly taken in such a short time so that I can give you an answer which reflects the view of the people of Canada. The Arctic question is not a new one. We’ve been haggling over it for years, and in the interests of fairness I think you should give us more time, even an additional twenty-four hours.”

The President replied quickly, “I expected you’d be back to me on this point, and I’ve already discussed it thoroughly with my advisers. The answer has got to be No, there can be no extension. I’ve given you an ultimatum, and I’ve given you what I consider to be a reasonable length of time for your decision-making process to function. There’s no way that, having stipulated at nine o’clock in the morning what the United States wants, I’m going to start backing off three hours later. No, Mr. Prime Minister, the terms of the ultimatum stand and the timing with it. Furthermore, just to show you that we mean business, at twelve noon the Secretary of the Treasury was instructed to place an immediate embargo on the movement of any and all U.S. investment or other funds into Canada. At the present rate, that will mean a cut-off of $30-million of capital investment money a day. That’s just for openers.”

The Prime Minister started to protest but the President cut him short, “I’m sorry, Mr. Prime Minister, I’m due on television in just a few minutes, as you know. My staff tell me that you are going to respond as soon as I have finished. All I can say is, Be careful!”

He hung up.

As the President and Wolf entered the communications cabin the five men manning it glanced up, then carried on with their work. Pete Young, the President’s Television Director, was giving final instructions at the main control console, so the President and Wolf waited, looking around at the familiar but still amazing setup.

Against the port wall were banks of telex equipment carrying reports from the State Department, the Pentagon, and the news wires. Two of the crew monitored these messages at all times, and delivered batches of the most significant items to the President’s secretarial staff at half-hour intervals. Ranged against the forward wall were the high-frequency radio transmitters and receivers. To the President’s left, under the arched roof of the cabin, were the computer terminal and control units which were hooked into the master defence computer system at the Pentagon. Through this terminal the President alone could issue the final command codes for missile interception or even nuclear retaliation. To the rear of the cabin, behind a glass panel, the President could see the TV studio, with its three cameras set up facing the desk, complete with Presidential Seal and Flag.

When Peter Young had completed his work at the control console he looked up and nodded.

“All ready to go, Pete?” the President asked.

“All set, Mr. President. We’re locked on to the satellite, we’ve run a transmission check, everything looks good. The networks are standing by. There’ll also be a feed-in to all the Canadian networks.”

“That’s good, Pete. How much time have we got?”

“Two minutes and thirty seconds, Mr. President.”

“I guess I’d better get in there.” The President headed for the studio door. In a few moments he was installed behind the desk with his papers in front of him.

Young flicked a switch on the console. “Are you all set, Mr. President?”

“Yes, Pete.”

“Would you give me your voice level please, sir?”

“O.K. I’ll do it by asking you to give me the countdown as we come up to 12:30.I understand that, as usual, you’ll show the Presidential Seal for five seconds and do the intro over the Seal.”

“Right. We’re coming up to fifteen seconds. All network clearances established. Coming up to ten seconds … five, four, three, two, one.” He flicked the switch for transmission of the Presidential Seal and spoke into the microphone in front of him. “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.” Then he switched to the President and pointed to him.

“My fellow Americans, I want to inform all of you about certain actions I have decided to take to meet the serious energy crisis which confronts this nation.…”