The Kennedy Endeavor (Presidential Series Book 2) Read online

  “This Government, as promised, has maintained the closest surveillance of the Soviet military buildup on the island of Cuba. Within the past week, unmistakable evidence has established the fact that a series of offensive missile sites is now in preparation on that imprisoned island. The purpose of these bases can be none other than to provide a nuclear strike capability against the Western Hemisphere.

  “Upon receiving the first preliminary hard information of this nature last Tuesday morning at nine A.M., I directed that our surveillance be stepped up. And having now confirmed and completed our evaluation of the evidence and our decision on a course of action, this Government feels obliged to report this new crisis to you in fullest detail.

  “The characteristics of these new missile sites indicate two distinct types of installations. Several of them include medium range ballistic missiles, capable of carrying a nuclear warhead for a distance of more than one thousand nautical miles. Each of these missiles, in short, is capable of striking Washington, D. C., the Panama Canal, Cape Canaveral, Mexico City, or any other city in the southeastern part of the United States, in Central America, or in the Caribbean area.

  “Additional sites not yet completed appear to be designed for intermediate range ballistic missiles—capable of traveling more than twice as far—and thus capable of striking most of the major cities in the Western Hemisphere, ranging as far north as Hudson Bay, Canada, and as far south as Lima, Peru. In addition, jet bombers, capable of carrying nuclear weapons, are now being uncrated and assembled in Cuba, while the necessary air bases are being prepared.

  “This urgent transformation of Cuba into an important strategic base—by the presence of these large, long-range, and clearly offensive weapons of sudden mass destruction—constitutes an explicit threat to the peace and security of all the Americas, in flagrant and deliberate defiance of the Rio Pact of 1947, the traditions of this Nation and hemisphere, the joint resolution of the 87th Congress, the Charter of the United Nations, and my own public warnings to the Soviets on September fourth and thirteenth. This action also contradicts the repeated assurances of Soviet spokesmen, both publicly and privately delivered, that the arms buildup in Cuba would retain its original defensive character, and that the Soviet Union had no need or desire to station strategic missiles on the territory of any other nation.

  “The size of this undertaking makes clear that it has been planned for some months. Yet only last month, after I had made clear the distinction between any introduction of ground-to-ground missiles and the existence of defensive antiaircraft missiles, the Soviet Government publicly stated on September eleventh that, and I quote, ‘the armaments and military equipment sent to Cuba are designed exclusively for defensive purposes,’ that, and I quote the Soviet Government, ‘there is no need for the Soviet Government to shift its weapons for a retaliatory blow to any other country, for instance Cuba,’ and that, and I quote their government, ‘the Soviet Union has rockets powerful enough to carry these nuclear warheads that there is no need to search for sites for them beyond the boundaries of the Soviet Union.’ That statement was false.

  “Only last Thursday, as evidence of this rapid offensive buildup was already in my hand, Soviet Foreign Minister Gromyko told me in my office that he was instructed to make it clear once again, as he said his government had already done, that Soviet assistance to Cuba, and I quote, ‘pursued solely the purpose of contributing to the defense capabilities of Cuba,’ that, and I quote him, ‘training by Soviet specialists of Cuban nationals in handling defensive armaments was by no means offensive, and if it were otherwise,’ Mr. Gromyko went on, ‘the Soviet Government would never become involved in rendering such assistance.’ That statement also was false.

  “Neither the United States of America nor the world community of nations can tolerate deliberate deception and offensive threats on the part of any nation, large or small. We no longer live in a world where only the actual firing of weapons represents a sufficient challenge to a nation's security to constitute maximum peril. Nuclear weapons are so destructive and ballistic missiles are so swift, that any substantially increased possibility of their use or any sudden change in their deployment may well be regarded as a definite threat to peace.

  “For many years, both the Soviet Union and the United States, recognizing this fact, have deployed strategic nuclear weapons with great care, never upsetting the precarious status quo which insured that these weapons would not be used in the absence of some vital challenge. Our own strategic missiles have never been transferred to the territory of any other nation under a cloak of secrecy and deception; and our history—unlike that of the Soviets since the end of World War II—demonstrates that we have no desire to dominate or conquer any other nation or impose our system upon its people. Nevertheless, American citizens have become adjusted to living daily on the bull's-eye of Soviet missiles located inside the U.S.S.R. or in submarines.

  “In that sense, missiles in Cuba add to an already clear and present danger . . .”

  Kennedy continued on, laying out the background to the missiles, then moving forward to the current situation, connecting naturally, to the concept of appeasement, on which Meyer knew he’d written his thesis and was very sensitive about.

  “The 1930s taught us a clear lesson: aggressive conduct, if allowed to go unchecked, ultimately leads to war. This nation is opposed to war. We are also true to our word. Our unswerving objective, therefore, must be to prevent the use of these missiles against this or any other country, and to secure their withdrawal or elimination from the Western Hemisphere.

  “Our policy has been one of patience and restraint, as befits a peaceful and powerful nation, which leads a worldwide alliance. We have been determined not to be diverted from our central concerns by mere irritants and fanatics. But now further action is required—and it is under way; and these actions may only be the beginning. We will not prematurely or unnecessarily risk the costs of worldwide nuclear war in which even the fruits of victory would be ashes in our mouth-but neither will we shrink from that risk at any time it must be faced.

  “Acting, therefore, in the defense of our own security and of the entire Western Hemisphere, and under the authority entrusted to me by the Constitution as endorsed by the Resolution of the Congress, I have directed that the following initial steps be taken immediately.”

  Meyer nodded as Kennedy laid out seven steps, the first of which was the blockade, addressing Khrushchev as much as he was addressing the American people. She’d been with him when he’d sketched this speech, but she was impressed how much better he’d made it in the time since she last saw him. The third step linked any launch from Cuba as an attack by the Soviet Union, in essence making Cuba a match point that would start an all out nuclear exchange between the two super-powers. In essence, another West Berlin, as if the world needed another such hot spot.

  The seventh and final step was a direct appeal to Khrushchev to resolve the issues. Meyer knew Kennedy already had a copy of the speech delivered to Gromyko, who would have transmitted a copy to Moscow. By the time Kennedy was on the air, Khrushchev would have already read the speech and most likely ordered a heightened state of readiness for Soviet Forces.

  Then the President wrapped up the speech, addressing once more, the American people:

  “My fellow citizens: let no one doubt that this is a difficult and dangerous effort on which we have set out. No one can foresee precisely what course it will take or what costs or casualties will be incurred. Many months of sacrifice and self-discipline lie ahead—months in which both our patience and our will will be tested—months in which many threats and denunciations will keep us aware of our dangers. But the greatest danger of all would be to do nothing.

  “The path we have chosen for the present is full of hazards, as all paths are—but it is the one most consistent with our character and courage as a nation and our commitments around the world. The cost of freedom is always high—but Americans have always paid it. And one p
ath we shall never choose, and that is the path of surrender or submission.

  “Our goal is not the victory of might, but the vindication of right—not peace at the expense of freedom, but both peace and freedom, here in this hemisphere, and, we hope, around the world. God willing, that goal will be achieved.

  “Thank you and good night.”

  Meyer turned off the TV. She placed a hand on it, feeling the warmth generated by the tubes inside. “Good night, Jack. I hope you get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Ten

  The Russian assault teams were in three unmarked vans. It was morning in Moscow, with millions of people at work and home, unaware that a relic of the Cold War threatened their very existence. The three vans wove through the streets toward the Kremlin. The team leader, Major Koransky, took off his red beret and stuffed it in a pocket. His Spetsnatz team was from the Ministry of Internal Affairs (MVD), the 33rd OSN (special purpose detachment) stationed in Moscow. The red beret was worn only by those Spetsnatz soldiers who were the ‘most professional, physically and morally fit’ soldiers. To earn one required passing a series of tests including a 12 kilometer cross-country run in full combat gear, an urban assault exercise, and a 12 minute freestyle sparring, no holds barred, against three opponents. The success rate was less than 10%, and once in a while, during the sparring, a candidate died.

  Such was the price of the red beret.

  “Stop,” Koransky ordered, checking their position on the GPS. He also had an old map open in his lap, something he’d had couriered to him from the Kremlin Archives: a map of the old World War II tunnel system underneath the capitol. Stalin, and those that followed him into the Cold War, had built an extensive tunnel system under the Russian capitol. First as protection against Nazi bombers, then in an attempt to make a nuclear strike survivable. At least for the power elite.

  Koransky put a small earpiece in and wrapped a mike around his throat. He did a comm check and his team leaders responded promptly.

  Koransky and his soldiers wore unmarked black fatigues, over which they had black Kevlar body armor, and on top of that was a combat vest. He had an AK-74, the upgrade of the venerable AK-47, chambered with a higher velocity, smaller 5.45 mm round, for his primary weapon.

  “Let's go.”

  Koransky led the way, out the side door of the van. Four of his men moved up the slope toward the wall of the Kremlin, spreading out, weapons at the ready as police cars took positions in front of and behind the vans, blocking all traffic and covering their movement. Two more men covered each flank, and the last four covered the rear.

  They arrived at a portal in the red brick wall surrounding the Kremlin. It was blocked by a steel gate. Koransky produced a plastic card that he pushed into the electronic lock. He entered a sequence of numbers. The light went from red to green, and the gate slid open.

  Koransky entered a small alcove, to be faced by another door. He used a different card and a different code on its lock, and the door rumbled open, revealing a descending stairway into the bowels of the system underneath the Kremlin. Koransky slid down a set of night-vision goggles. The rest of his team did the same. Then he signaled with two fingers and gestured down. Two of his men descended into the darkness.

  “Clear to another door,” his lead scout reported. “It's sealed with a retinal scanner to one side.”

  Koransky moved forward, the rest of the team following. He considered the scanner. It was covered in dust. He knew they could blow the door, but that would lose them the advantage of surprise. He signaled for his electronics expert to come forward. The man pulled out some tools and worked on the scanner.

  He paused and looked at Koransky. “It’s dead. Not functioning. I will bypass and open the lock.”

  After a few second there was a click and the man pulled the steel door open, revealing a corridor. The floor was gray and the walls were painted the same flat color. Koransky pulled up the night-vision goggles since recessed lighting dimly lit the corridor.

  Koransky detailed a pair of his men to stand guard, then looked ahead. The corridor was straight as far as he could see. From the briefing he’d received as they’d rapidly prepared this operation, he'd learned that the first tunnel built under the Kremlin had been finished during the time of the tsars as an escape route in times of extreme trouble. Obviously it had not been used when they really needed it, Koransky thought as he gestured for his two point men to move ahead. He followed right behind.

  During World War II, Stalin had begun by building a large bomb shelter directly under the Kremlin as the Nazis approached Moscow. He'd also had bunkers dug under other government buildings and connecting tunnels bored out. However, the rudimentary bunkers, designed to provide survival against Stuka dive-bombers, were obviously inadequate against nuclear weapons. So the government dug deeper and deeper, burrowing into the earth below Moscow in the foolish hope that perhaps the leadership could survive a direct nuclear attack. That there would be nothing on the surface to govern had not seemed to occur to anyone.

  Koransky thought it the height of irony that nuclear bombs would be secreted here as a threat against the government that thought it could survive nuclear bombs down here.

  The point man opened another door. The tunnel beyond was older and smaller. Beads of moisture glistened, illuminated by naked lightbulbs attached to an electric cord bolted to the ceiling. Most of the bulbs were burnt out, with just a few still providing lonely pools of light. There was graffiti on the walls. Koransky spared it a glance and noted that someone had posted rude references to ‘Keepers of the Peace.’

  They moved about one hundred meters before reaching another door. Unlike the previous ones, though, this door was wooden, with metal bands across it. It had an ancient lock that Koransky’s men made short work of. They swung the door open. A tunnel paved with brick beckoned, curving downward. Koransky no longer had a GPS signal, but he’d been keeping a pace count and staying oriented. He checked his map. They were off the mapped portion of the tunnels, entering unmarked territory.

  They moved forward, going ever deeper underneath the Kremlin.

  After five minutes they came to another door—this one steel, more modern than the tunnel, but still aged. Koransky cursed as he noted that the edge of the door was spot-welded shut to the frame. Koransky snapped an order and one of his men ran up. He tossed off his backpack, pulled out a welding torch and fired it up.

  Koransky checked his watch but displayed no sense of impatience, knowing it would do no good. The man was working as fast as he could. The flame went out and the welder stood. “It's clear to open.”

  Two mercenaries began unscrewing the door, which seemed to consist of a single large threaded metal disk, about five feet in diameter. It moved easily and they had it unscrewed in less than fifteen seconds. It slowly rotated away from the entrance on hydraulic arms.

  It was dark inside. Koransky pulled down his night-vision goggles and turned them on. He waited until the green glow came alive, then poked his head in the opening. He saw a large chamber, the far end of which wasn't visible in the goggles.

  There was a glow in the distance, about sixty meters away, and Koransky saw movement.

  The time for discretion was over.

  “Flash bangs,” Koransky hissed as he pulled up the night-vision goggles, put a hand over his eyes and averted his face.

  Two of his men fired flash bang rounds from their grenade launchers, directly at the light. The grenades went off as advertised: with an ear numbing bang and a blinding flash.

  Koransky led the charge as the two grenade men fired flares, lighting up the cavern.

  Koransky had a series of images as he brought the AK-74 to his shoulder to fire: a cluster of three people, dressed in rags, gathered around warheads set on a low pedestal. Someone off to the right was screaming something into a phone.

  Then Koransky and his men began firing.

  They had gotten a good burst off when there was a blinding flash f
rom the warheads, and the wave of a blast threw Koransky backward. He lay on his back stunned for a moment, wondering how he’d survived a nuclear blast.

  Blinded, he got to his feet. All he could hear was ringing in his ears.

  *****

  Aaron heard the firing, then the red phone went dead. “Caleb!” he called out.

  The large man came running. “Yes?”

  “Moscow is down. They were attacked.”

  Caleb nodded. “We need to prepare our final defense and activate the Sword.”

  *****

  Koransky called out for his men and was rewarded by a scattered response, which he could barely hear above the ringing. The flashes in his retinas were slowly fading out and darkness was taking over.

  For a moment, Koransky panicked, afraid he’d been blinded. But when he pulled down his night-vision goggles and turned them on, a flickering green image appeared. Blinking hard, Koransky’s vision slowly returned.

  The people who’d been at the bombs were now scattered bits and pieces of humans, blown to bits. Koransky now understood what had happened: they’d detonated the bomb’s initiator, but it had failed to ignite the plutonium core.

  The realization was immediately followed by another one, chilling in the utmost. “Gregor?” Koransky called out.

  “Sir?”

  “Reading, please.”

  There was a long pause, then his engineer reported what the display of his Geiger counter indicated. “We’re dead men, sir.”

  *****

  Aaron walked down the corridor he’d passed through every day for the past half a century, knowing this was the last time. Fourteen paces. Left turn. He put his right hand-his only hand-on the flat screen next to the door. The screen flashed green and the optical scanner swung down. Aaron placed his face against it.

  The door rumbled open.