Ultimatum 2

By Richard Rohmer

Ultimatum 2 is an action-packed, fast-moving saga. The American president is fed up with the hundreds of millions of dollars given to Russia to clean up high-level nuclear waste. His solution is to give the Russians an ultimatum: do this my way, or else! It is delivered in person by the secretary of state during a secret rendezvous in Norway.

A second ultimatum follows from the United States, Russia, and the United Kingdom to the government of Canada, after they decide that an international nuclear waste disposal site should be created in Canada. The Canadian prime minister tells their emissary there’s no way Canada will become a nuclear waste dump. The Americans threaten to invade. How the matter is resolved is ingenious.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dundurn
• Release date: Feb 28, 2007
• ISBN: 9781554886791

Richard Rohmer

Richard Rohmer is the bestselling author of numerous thrillers, including Ultimatum, Separation, and Ultimatum 2. He has also published many non-fiction books, including Generally Speaking: The Memoirs of Major-General Richard Rohmer. Rohmer lives in Collingwood, Ontario.

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CHAPTER 1

He spoke softly. Not with anger but with unmistakably firm intent. Sitting well back in his leather-cushioned chair behind his desk, flanked at the windows by his flags of office, he addressed his Secretary of State. She could barely hear his voice, but she had spent so much one-on-one time with him both before and after he became president that she could hear, as well as understand, nearly every word, every inflection.

What did that briefing tell you? he asked, his fingertips together in front of his sombre face as if to underscore his troubled mind.

The briefing in the Oval Office had been well organized, outlining what he wanted and how much money the United States had given to Russia — so far — for the purpose of cleaning up Putin’s nuclear messes. Messes? The derelict nuclear subs, the plutonium factories, the tons of weapons-grade material littered across Russia with little or no security against theft, against al Qaeda, against terrorists who would sacrifice their lives, anything, to mount a nuclear strike against the heart of America. That heart was anywhere, everywhere, inside the body of the United States.

How much more money had Congress pledged to give to Russia for cleaning up that nuclear shambles? And where was Russia putting, storing, disposing of its massive amount of high-level nuclear waste? That was the stuff that could be the gut material of those dreaded words nuclear proliferation, the spreading of the ability of rogue nations and universal terrorists to create and use nuclear weapons of mass destruction. Against whom? The target of escalating choice: America at home and wherever its face was seen in the world.

The President’s hands dropped away from his lined face below his full head of greying hair. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. Look, we have to make the Russians accountable. We have to do what Rob Ross suggested.

What d’you mean?

We have to tell them that for every million dollars we give them for disposing of their high-level nuclear waste, they have to give us a record of what they’ve done with it. I mean, we just can’t keep on throwing our taxpayers’ money at them and still have no idea of what they’re doing.

So what’s your plan, Mr. President? What d’you want me to do?

Simple. Give Putin the Dr. Ross ultimatum. Either do what I want, nuclear waste–wise — or else.

She shrugged. That I can do. But you have to put some meat on this ultimatum skeleton of yours.

The President stood up, walked around and away from his desk, and paced the Oval Office rug as he formulated his directions.

He began. This is what I want you to do. Take Ross’s idea, work it up with him, then give the Russians the ultimatum, and the Russian to give it to is Putin’s right-hand man, his deputy prime minister, Sergei Ivanov, who also has the Defence portfolio.

During the briefing Dr. Rob Ross had raised a final topic. It was an idea that had caught the President’s full attention.

When Ross had explained what he had in mind for a unique, long-term, practical solution for the Russian nuclear waste dilemma the President had said, That’s a great idea, Dr. Ross. A barnburner. Like something we’d come up with in Texas. Yeah. It sounds as though you’ve already done a lot of research into this one.

Yes, sir. I’ve looked into the situation in depth. There’s been an enormous amount of research already invested into the technology, particularly by the firm Atomic Energy of Canada Limited, AECL.

Yes, I’ve heard of them. They’re big in building nuclear power plants, right?

Exactly, Mr. President, and they’re also big in coming up with solutions for getting rid of nuclear waste. They know how to do it. All I’m doing is suggesting how you could get the Russians to hook into AECL’s technology.

The President gave a crafty smile. Hook or be hooked?

Ross nodded. I think you’re going to have to hook them, sir. Whether they like it or not. And my proposed bait on the hook could well be irresistible.

It certainly was irresistible to the President. The Ross concept was the centrepiece of the President’s private instructions to his Secretary of State. It was the ultimatum scenario that would put into play a train of unusual activity for the Secretary, her staff, and for Dr. Rob Ross, Assistant Under Secretary of Energy, the man with the idea.

The President stopped his pacing. He stood quiet for a moment, then said, Look, this nuclear waste thing’s important but, as you know, my top priorities are Iraq…

And Iran and Israel, the Secretary prompted.

"Yes, and the Mexican border and this never-ending illegal immigration mess. The House and the Senate are still miles apart. The Senate mood is that they won’t accept any legislation that doesn’t legalize illegal immigrants. As Schumer puts it, there’s going to have to be a path to citizenship for all our illegals.

On the other side, the lead House negotiator says he would never support a bill that gives illegal immigrants a chance at American citizenship. He calls the Senate legislation ‘amnesty,’ but he’ll support a guest-worker program.

So, what can you do to bring the two sides together?

Right now I don’t know how to handle the situation.

D’you think putting the National Guard troops on the Mexican border has really done anything to stop the flow of illegals?

No, of course not. They’re not armed. No power of arrest. But at least they’re showing a military presence and they’re building the big fence. He shrugged. Anyway, the National Guard, they’re not the solution to securing the border, making it impossible for illegals to get in.

Isn’t that the first step that has to be taken? the Secretary asked.

Making it impossible to get in? Sure it is, but how can I do it?

The President didn’t expect an answer. He walked to his desk and sat, his hands behind his neck, legs stretched out, eyes looking out the Oval Office window, then back to his Secretary of State in whom he had complete confidence. I’m really worried about Dick, he said. He’s had his heart problems for years. Cardiovascular is probably a better description. He’s looking flushed. Not talking much during cabinet meetings.

I’ve noticed that. It’s not like him.

He says he’s fine but I’ve asked him to slow down, cut out campaign speeches and travel. He says, ‘Sure, Mr. President,’ and just keeps on doing his own thing.

Speaking about Dick, she said, what about Iraq? That has to be your biggest priority. How will you get out of there?

The President sat up straight and turned in his chair to look across his desk. The answer would not come from him. It would come from his successor. That person would not be his Vice-President.

CHAPTER 2

Jason Crisp was astonished, mouth not quite agape, eyes wide with incredulity. His boss, the Secretary of State of the United States of America, that famous woman with the elevated intellect, universally educated, a power in academe, a person who could take on any combatant either individually or as a group, the closest of the President’s confidants, finished her recital to him. (She’d recorded it, of course.) She gave the Under Secretary a summary of the President’s instructions on what was to be done to (or was it with?) the Russians because of their foot-dragging — yes, the whole body in addition to the foot — in cleaning up their horrendous nuclear waste mess.

My God, Crisp muttered. He’s told you to give them an ultimatum!

Exactly. That’s what he called it, an ultimatum.

With respect, Secretary, said Crisp, in the world of diplomacy we never use the word ultimatum. It’s too gross. Too belligerent, if you will.

State was surprised. We may not use the word, but American history and the world’s are filled with de facto ultimatums. Do this or else. It’s an integral part of the way, the natural manner, in which nations have always dealt with each other.

True, Crisp allowed. Particularly when it comes to the dealings that large, powerful countries have with lesser ones, be it economically or militarily.

The Secretary brushed back a sweep of jet black hair that had slipped down her narrow forehead. There are several things you and I have to do, and right away.

Crisp was ready. I’ve asked Ruth to stand by. I’ll bring her in. He stood, ready to go to the main door of the Secretary’s office to call in his assistant to transcribe the action notes as his boss recited them.

No, Jason. No. I don’t want any staff in on this. The President’s instructions are too delicate, just as our relations with the Russians are too delicate. You and I will prepare the plan of action.

Crisp had been there before with the Secretary. He had brought a pad of paper and was prepared to be the steno.

First, I must have a full background on the operative legislation, such as Nunn-Lugar, under which Congress has authorized money for the elimination of the Russian nuclear waste.

Or its secure storage, Crisp added.

All of this was presented in the President’s briefing today but I have to have it. The name of the main briefing person from Energy is Dr. Rob Ross. The President’s Chief of Staff can find him for you.

Okay.

And I want Ross to be seconded to me full-time until this mission is accomplished.

What if his Secretary says no, he can’t do without him?

Both brows lifted above those deep brown, unwavering eyes. Jason, you must be joking! If I want him I must have him. The President will so order. Got it?

Yes, ma’am. The Secretary had not yet invited Crisp, some twenty years her senior and now the top civil servant at State, to call her by her first name. Crisp reasoned that she lacked the inner strength to do so. She was Afro-American. Made it up the hard way. Totally disciplined. But a sensitive human filled with both confidence and insecurity. Whatever.

I’ll talk to my counterpart at Energy. Crisp made a note.

If you have any resistance back off. I’ll handle it from there. I want a meeting with Dr. Ross tomorrow. She pecked away at her ever-present laptop. It went everywhere with her like the Queen’s purse was always on the left arm. Some media wag had made the equation, noting that no one knew what was in the Queen’s handbag, just as no one knew what was 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