Warrior Class Read online

  "No hurry, Mr. Chief Justice," Thorn said. "We have lots of time."

  "But it'll take at least ten minutes to get to the Capitol, even with an escort, and at least ten more minutes to get up to the-2' "We're not going to the Capitol," Thorn said. The Busicks

  and the Thoms were out the door, led by Secret Service agents scrambling to clear the way. They bypassed the elevator and headed right to the ancient stairway.

  "You're ... you're not going to the Capitol?" Thompson asked in shock. But he, too, had to hurry to keep up with the family.

  "The ceremony there is to honor President Martindale and

  Vice President Whiting, Your Honor," Thorn said. "The people elected me to work for them, not to give speeches or put myself on parade."

  "But . . . but the Congress, the other dignitaries, the invited guests, hundreds of thousands of citizens from all over the country-they're all waiting for

  you at the Capitol. What are they going to say when you don't show up?"

  "Same thing as they would if I did show-maybe kindlier, since they won't have an inaugural speech to pick apart," Thorn said. "No matter, Your Honor."

  "You're not giving an inaugural speech? " Thompson cried in stunned amazement. "You're joking, of course." He knew he wasn't.

  "I've got work to do. I've got a cabinet to get confirmed, several dozen federal judges to appoint, and a government to run. I promised the voters I'd get right to work, and so I shall."

  The Thorns and Busicks marched downstairs, across the omate lobby of Blair House, and right across Pennsylvania Avenue past the barricades and the District of Columbia Police to the security gate at the White House. The crowds were thin, more than the usual number of tourists and passersby on the pedestrians-only street, but most of them were still along the parade route. In a few moments, however, a small crowd was gathered around them. Thomas Thorn shook a few hands, but he remained purposeful as he and his vice president--elect marched their families up to the security gate.

  The Secret Service agents radioed ahead as fast as they could, but the group was still stopped by angry and confused Park Police. "What the hell is going on here?" the guard asked.

  "I'm reporting for duty," Thorn said confidently. "Open UP."

  "What?" the guard shouted. "Who the hell are you, bub? Back the-2' and his jaw dropped as recognition began to dawn. The chief justice stepped up.

  "I am Joseph Thompson, chief justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. I have just administered the oath of office to these two gentlemen. Governor Thorn and Senator Busick . . ." The chief justice looked at his watch-it was now twelve-oh-

  two. I mean, the President and Vice President of the United States wish to enter the White House and begin their work."

  By that time, the Secret Service Presidential Protection Detail had responded, moving the crowd back, clearing the way, and providing the proper authentication to the startled and shocked Park Police and uniformed Secret Service officers. The security guard couldn't believe it was happening, but he buzzed open the gate and admitted the new President and Vice President of the United States and their families onto the grounds of their new home.

  "Mr. President, are you sure you want to do this?" Chief Justice Thompson asked again, as urgently as he possibly could. "This is ... certainly unprecedented."

  "There is nothing in the Constitution that directs me to have an inauguration ceremony, give a speech, parade through the streets of Washington, or put ourselves or our families on display," Thorn said. Thompson quickly scanned two decades' worth of studying and teaching the U.S. Constitution, and he realized Thorn was right: there was no Constitutional mandate or public law that said there had to be any sort of ceremony.

  "Our inauguration is not a victory celebration, Mr. Chief Justice," Thorn went on. "We've just been given an important job to do-nothing more, nothing less. There's nothing to celebrate. I'm disrupting my family life, putting my dreams and aspirations on hold, and opening myself to all sorts of public scrutiny, doubt, and danger-all to do the people's business. I see no reason to celebrate anything but the peaceful transition of power in the world's greatest democracy. If anyone should celebrate, it's the voters who chose to exercise their right to choose their form of government and to choose who should lead it. As for me, I'll get right to work."

  Chief Justice Thompson could say nothing else. He held out his hand, and Thorn shook it warmly. Thorn and Busick shook a few more hands, and to cheers and chants of "Thorn, Busick! Thorn, Busick! " led their families forward to the White House and marched into history.

  Prlzren, Kosovo, Federal Republic of Yugoslavia That same time

  Usratta mozhna! That cowardly bastard did not even have the guts to attend his own swearing-in!" Chief Captain Ljubisa Susic, chief of the Prizren Federal Police Force, Kosovo, Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, laughed at the television with glee. He prided himself on his excellent knowledge of Russian, especially obscenities. "At a time when the eyes of the whole world are upon him, he

  decides to hide in the White House and play with his vice president's meat pole, on igrayit z dun'kay kulakovay! "

  Susic was in his office, staying late so he could watch the satellite TV broadcast available only in the headquarters building. Here in his office he had peace and quiet, the television picture was reliable and relatively clear, he had maraschinostrong, expensive Serbian cherry brandy-and he had his pistol, which he was required to carry while on the base but forbidden to carry outside. That was another example of the idiotic rules he had to follow because of the NATO occupation of Kosovo: he could carry a weapon when he was surrounded by a hundred heavily armed guards, but when he was on his own outside the headquarters compound, he had to be unarmed for fear of inciting unrest and fear in the civilian populationmost of whom would gladly put a bullet in his head or a knife in his back.

  Prizren, in the southern section of the southern Yugoslavian province of Kosovo, was the headquarters of KFOR MNB (S), or Kosovo Force, Multi-National Brigade-South, the NATOsponsored, United Nation s-sanctioned peacekeeping force composed of fifty thousand troops from twenty-eight nations around the world, including the United States, Great Britain, Germany, and Russia. KFOR was set up to patrol Kosovo and attempt to minimize any more ethnic confrontations while the world community tried to find a solution for the problems associated with the disintegration of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.

  And there were plenty of problems. There was a Republic of Kosovo provisional government, sanctioned and even

  funded by the United Nations, which was scheduled to become the de facto government of the semi-autonomous republic in .less than four years. No longer illegal, the Kosovo Liberation Army was more active than ever, with a force now estimated at more than fifty thousand men, equaling the size of the NATO, United Nations, and Russian peacekeeping forces combined. The KLA was supposed to have disarmed years ago, but that had never taken place-in fact, they were now reported to have heavy weapons such as antitank rockets and man-portable antiaircraft missiles, supplied by Iran, Saudi Arabia, and other Muslim nations.

  The KLA advertised itself as the heart of the soon-to-be independent nation of Kosovo's self-defense force. It wasn't true in the least. The KLA was composed mainly of ethnic Albanians, mostly Muslim, and clearly did not treat all Kosovo residents alike. They hated ethnic Serbs and Orthodox Christians, but also discriminated against any foreigner and most other ethnic minorities inside Kosovo, such as gypsies, Romanians, Italians, Jews, and Greeks. Although not sanctioned by the United Nations or NATO, KLA soldiers had begun wearing uniforms and carrying weapons, touting itself as the one and only authentic native Kosovar police force.

  In the meantime, Kosovo was still a province of Serbia, supposedly subject to Serbian and Yugoslavian federal law. Susic had the unfortunate task of trying to enforce the laws in a region where lawlessness was the rule rather than the exception. Prizren Airport was still operated by the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia as a national and
international airport, and it had to be secured and operated in accordance with Yugoslavian and International Civil Aeronautics Organization law. Its radar installations, power generators, communications links, satellite earth stations, warehouses, and fuel storage depots were also essential to Yugoslavian sovereignty and commerce. No one in NATO or the United Nations had offered to do any of these tasks for Yugoslavia. But the KLA was making that mission almost impossible.

  The NATO peacekeeping mission in Kosovo was in complete shambles. NATO allies Italy and Germany still had peacekeepers in-country, but were constantly squabbling over their

  role: Italy, with its eastern bases overloaded and closer to the fighting, wanted a much lower-profile presence; Germany, fearful of losing dominance over European affairs, wanted a much more active role, including stationing troops in Serbia itself. Greece and Turkey, NATO allies but longtime Mediterranean

  rivals, had virtually no role in peacekeeping operations, and it was thought that was the best option. Russia also wanted to reassert its presence and authority in eastern European affairs by supporting its Slavic cousins, counterbalancing Germany's threat.

  And then there was the United States of America, the biggest question mark of all. What would the new president do? He was such an enigma that few analysts, American or foreign, could hazard a guess. The United States had twice as many peacekeepers stationed in or around Kosovo as all the other participants combined, easily outgunning both Germany and Russia. But this relegated them to the role of baby-sitter or referee. The Americans seemed less concerned with keeping peace in Kosovo than with reducing hostilities between European powers.

  "This new president is either a nut or a coward," Susic added. The television on the all-news channel showed thousands of people outside the American Capitol milling around, as if undecided about what they should do. "Look at themstanding around with their thumbs up their asses, because their New Age retro-hippie president is back hiding in the safety of the White House." Other remote camera shots showed presidential advisors-not yet Cabinet members, because the United States Senate had not confirmed them-arriving at the White House to confer with the President. "How embarrassing. Do you not think so, Comrade Colonel?"

  "Do not underestimate this man, Captain," Colonel Gregor Kazakov said, draining his up of brandy, which Susic immediately refilled. "He has the strength of his convictions-he is not a political animal like the others. Never confuse a softspoken nature with weakness."

  Susic nodded thoughtfully. If Kazakov thought so ... Kazakov was a great soldier, an extraordinarily brave and resourceful warrior. Gregor Kazakov was the commander of the

  Russian Federation's four-thousand-man Kosovo peacekeeping mission, charged with trying to maintain order in the Russian sector of this explosive Yugoslavian republic.

  He was a hero to Susic because he had exhibited something relatively rare and unusual in a Russian military officer-initiative. It was Gregor Kazakov, then just a major, who, in June of 1999, upon secret orders from Moscow, had taken elements of his famed 331 Airborne battalion in two Antonov-12 transports low-level at night through the dark, forbiddi ng Bosnian highlands, and then parachuted 120 elite Russian commandos, two armored personnel carriers, man-portable antiaircraft weapons, and a few days' worth of ammunition and supplies onto Pristina Airport, thus yanking away the key position in Kosovo right out from under NATO's confused, uncoordinated noses. The Russian paratroopers had captured the airport with complete surprise and no resistance. The entire operation, from tasking order to last man on the drop zone, had taken less than twelve hours-again, amazingly fast and efficient for any Russian military maneuver. A small company of British paratroopers, sent in as an advance team to set up for incoming NATO supply flights, had been politely but firmly rolled out of bed by their Russian counterparts and ordered to evacuate the airport.

  NATO had E-3 Airborne Warning and Control radar planes above Bosnia, Albania, and Macedonia monitoring air traffic over the entire region, and at one point two U.S. Navy F- 14 Tomcats from an aircraft carrier in the Adriatic Sea had been vectored in on them, intercepting them shortly after they'd lifted off from the Russian air base in Bosnia. The F-14s had warned the planes to turn back, and even locked onto them with their missile-guidance radars, threatening to fire if they didn't reverse course. But Kazakov had ordered the An- 12 pilots to continue, and the Americans had eventually backed off without even firing a warning shot. The move had surprised the entire world and briefly touched off fears of NATO retaliation. Instead, Russia had gained in hours what weeks of negotiation had failed to achieve-a role in the peacekeeping efforts inside Kosovo. NATO had not only blinked at Kazakov's audacitythey'd stepped aside.

  Of course, if NATO had wanted to take Pristina Airfield

  back, they could have done so with ease-Kazakov himself would have readily admitted that. Kazakov's troops, although elite soldiers and highly motivated,

  were very poorly equipped, and training was substandard at best. Peacekeeping duty in Bosnia had the lowest funding priority, but the government wanted mobile, elite commandos in place to assure dominance, so Kazakov's men were woefully unprepared. The assault on Pristina Airport had been the first jump most of the men had made in several weeks, because there was very little jet fuel available for training flights; everything from bullets to bombs to boots was in short supply. But the surprise factor had left the Americans, British, French, and German peacekeepers frozen in shock. One hour, the place was nearly deserted; the next hour, a couple hundred Russian paratroopers were setting up shop.

  The mission's success had sent a surge of patriotic, nationalistic joy throughout Russia. Kazakov had received a promotion to full colonel and the People's Meritorious Service medal for his audacity and warrior spirit. In the end, the event had marked the beginning of the end of the Yeltsin administration, since it was obvious Yeltsin either had not sanctioned the plan, fearing reprisals from the West, or, more likely, had known nothing about it in the first place. Less than a year later, Yeltsin had resigned, his Social Democratic Party was out, and Valentin Sen'kov and the new Russia-All Fatherland Party, not communist but decidedly nationalistic and anti-West, had surged into the Kremlin and Duma in large numbers.

  Kazakov could have been elected premier of Russia if he'd wanted to get into Russian politics-no doubt a much tougher assignment than any other he had ever held. But he was a soldier and commander, and wanted nothing more than to lead Russian soldiers. He'd requested and been authorized to command the Russian presence in all of Yugoslavia, and had chosen to set up his headquarters right in NATO's face, squarely in the middle of the homet's nest that was Kosovo--Prizren, in southern Kosovo, the largest and most dangerous multinational brigade sector. Kazakov commanded two full mechanized infantry battalions, four thousand soldiers, there. He also com-

  manded an eight-hundred-man Tactical Group, composed of a fast helicopter assault force, in the Kosovo Multi-National Brigade-East headquarters at Gnjilane, and was an advisor to the Ukrainian Army's three-hundred-man contingent there as well.

  Now the troops had been in place for almost two years, with only minimal-duty out-rotations, so the men were slack, poorly trained, and poorly motivated. All they received here in Kosovo were constant threats from ethnic Albanian civilians and Kosovo Liberation Army forces-most of whom roamed the streets almost at will, with very little interference from NATO-and increasing cutbacks and inattention from home. The new president of Russia, ex-Communist, ex-KGB officer, and ex-prime president Valentin Sen'kov, promised more money and more prestige for the Russian military, and he was beginning to deliver. But no one, not even President Sen'kov, could squeeze blood from a turnip. There was simply no additional money to invest for the Russian Federation's huge military.

  "The question is," Susic said, gulping down more brandy, will Thorn continue the American buildup in Kosovo and continue to support revolutionaries, saboteurs, and terrorists in Albania, Montenegro, and Macedonia, like his predecessor? Or will
he stop this maddening scheme to break up Yugoslavia and let us fight our own battles?"

  "It is hard to tell with this president," Kazakov said. "He is a military man, that much I know-an army lieutenant in Desert Storm, I believe. He is credited with leading a team of commandos hundreds of miles into Iraq, even into Baghdad itself, and lazing targets for precision-guided bombers."

  "That mealymouthed worm was a commando?" Susic asked incredulously. He hadn't paid much attention to the American political campaign. "He would not be qualified to shine your boots, let alone be called a commando, like yourself."

  '61f it was a lie, I believe the American press would have exposed him in very short order-instead, they verified it," Kazakov said. "I told you, Captain, do not underestimate him. He knows what it's like to be a warrior, with a rifle in your

  hands sneaking into position, with your enemies all around you in the darkness. His outward demeanor may be different from other American presidents', but they are all pushed and pulled by so many political forces. They can be quite

  unpredictable."

  "Yes, especially that last one, Martindale," Susic said. "A real back-stabbing snake." Kazakov nodded, and Susic felt pleased with himself that he had made an observation that this great warrior agreed with. "The master of glad-handed robbery-shake hands with the right hand, club you over the head with the left." He started to pour Kazakov more brandy.

  But Kazakov held out a hand over the glass and rose to his feet. "I've got sentry posts to check," he said.

  "That's what junior officers are for," Susic said, filling his glass again. Kazakov glared at him disapprovingly. Susic noticed the stare, ignored the brandy, and got to his feet as well. "Excellent idea, Colonel. I think I'll join you. Always good to show some brass to the troops."

  The early-evening air was crisp and very cold, but the skies were clear and the moon, nearly full, was out. It was easy to see the perimeter of the headquarters compound and its five-meterhigh barbed-wire-topped fence. Crews were busy keeping snow from piling up on the fence, which was wired with motion detectors-they would certainly be deactivated now while they worked. That meant that the guard towers and roving patrols were more important than ever, so Kazakov decided to check those first. Kazakov got clearance from Central Security Control on his portable radio. "Follow me, Chief Captain."