“So what’s your basic plan of action, Rob?” The Secretary was deliberate in her use of Ross’s first name. A signal. “And what can we do for you? You’re one of us now, Mr. Ambassador.”
Crisp was quick. “Well, not really, Madam Secretary. Ambassador rank, yes. But not one of us!”
The Secretary ignored the pompous Crisp-in-the-butt, as she sometimes referred to him, though never to his face.
Ross ignored Crisp as well. “My plan is to go to Murmansk for meetings with the head of MINATOM, Nikolai Yegerov. He’s an old acquaintance of mine. I want to open up, do a heads-up with him on Russia’s entire nuclear waste situation. I’ve already talked with him.”
“Is he agreeable?” State asked.
“Yes. I’ve made preliminary arrangements through Yegerov and your Moscow desk,” Ross acknowledged. “Thank you, they’ve been very helpful. I’ve arranged for a quick tour of some of the naval bases, the nuclear sub locations in the Kola Peninsula. Then an inspection of PA Mayak, the plutonium storage place, to see what our $150 million is doing for us there. That’s where the MOX, mixed oxide, uranium bundles would be fabricated and that’s where the nuclear reactors from the decommissioned submarines are supposed to be sent for disassembly and reprocessing. They have a specialized custom-made set of railway cars that carry the used nuclear fuel containers from the Northern Fleet to the Mayak Chemical Combine. The submarine fleet is in a nuclear disaster mode. So I must take a look at it to see how what’s there could fit into the international disposal site jigsaw puzzle. I also want to discuss the nuclear sub dry dock they want us to finance.”
“How could the Kola nuclear junk possibly fit into the proposal you put to the President?” Crisp was skeptical.
“Easily, depending on where our international disposal site is located. It has to be accessible by deep sea freighters, and if it is, then I can envisage a full clean-up of the Kola and Russia’s Pacific bases because I also see a complete reprocessing plant at the site.”
Ross admitted, “I have to be careful. This is all in my mind’s eye. But if the President’s goal is to do everything possible to stop nuclear weapons proliferation and to stop the two major nuclear powers from being always on the verge of annihilating each other in times of stress and confrontation, then my job is to examine every opportunity I can find to achieve his objective. And the plan I gave him is a perfect fit.”
He saw the Secretary gently nod her agreement. “Chernobyl?” she asked.
“I won’t have time to take a look at that infamous place on this trip. Congress has voted a multi-million-dollar package as a contribution toward the G7’s $700-million commitment for the construction of a giant concrete envelope, a sarcophagus to enclose the radioactive rubble of Reactor Four. And an additional $22.5 million for a Chernobyl heating plant crucial to allowing the reactor to shut down.”
The Secretary summarized. “So what you’re saying is that our nuclear investment in Russia is growing by leaps and bounds: $150 million here, $22 million there, god knows how many millions at Chernobyl. We really haven’t any choice if we want the Russians to partner with us in getting rid of those countless warheads...” The Secretary’s voice faded as she left her thought out there.
“And the countless nuclear messes around Russia,” Ross followed on. “Some of their plants are still producing weaponsgrade plutonium and enriched uranium. They say they can’t shut them down because they create massive employment. Whole Russian cities have been built out of and around the nuclear industry. Incredible.”
At last Crisp decided to be positive. “As I see it, the reality is, Madam Secretary, that prosperous, burgeoning America has no choice. We are the richest, most powerful nation in the world — for the time being, as history teaches us. If our prosperous world, our global civilization, is to survive, and our American way of life is to continue as free from the threat of nuclear annihilation as possible and after September eleventh and after Iraq is as free from terrorism as possible, then we must work with the leaders of the Russian state to assist them in bringing their nuclear serpent monster under control, and we must do so with co-operation, mutual respect, trust...” He hesitated for effect. “...and money, tons of money, billions!”
The Secretary liked what she heard. “Yes, Jason, and if necessary, we have to override the co-operation, mutual respect, and trust thing with an ultimatum — Dr. Ross’s concept, which the President has bought.” She then said to Ross, “I take it from what you’ve said that your travel arrangements are well advanced. Anything further my people can do?”
“Yes, thank you. As I told you, I’ve pinned down all the places I want to visit. It’ll be just as if we were a North American mining or oil company flying its executives and experts into all parts of Russia for business purposes. I think Americans don’t have any idea of the amount of day-to-day business traffic of corporate aircraft that fly into Russia and republics like Ukraine that were part of the Soviet Union. No idea. My assistant and I will be well looked after and we’ll be able to take with us up to six passengers, such as MINATOM people. In any event I’ll need all the help I can get from you, Madam Secretary and Mr. Crisp, in putting together my Russia visit and the run-up, the preparations for Stavanger and Oslo.”
“Your assistant?” Crisp’s right eyebrow arched as he put the question.
“Yes. She’s actually a highly competent executive assistant with every qualification you’d want, starting with an MBA out of Harvard in computer technology and communications. She was also fourth runner-up in the Miss America contest five years ago.”
“I’m sure she’ll look after you.” Crisp had things other than business in mind when he made that comment.
The new ambassador grinned. “All in the national interest of the United States of America. Yes, sir.”
The Secretary suggested that rather than flying direct to Russia, Ross should stop at London and pay a visit to the British Prime Minister. She was on the best of terms with him. And subject to his being in London — not off golfing or on holiday in Tuscany where once upon a time he had happily impregnated his lovely barrister wife — the Secretary was sure the Prime Minister would receive him at the rickety, ancient bastion of British first ministers, 10 Downing Street.
“It would be a valuable opportunity to present your ambassadorial credentials, so to speak, and to bring the young man up to speed on the President’s nuclear waste disposal initiatives.”
“Great idea. I love London. Superb city. I can do that. And I’ll spend some time with our ambassador there.”
“Carl Elton, the television mogul. He’s enjoying his caper there enormously. Loves being in the Royals’ circle. Thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.”
“But I can’t tell him what I’m doing, what my mandate is from the President, can I?”
The Secretary agreed. “No. Absolutely not. I’ll tell him you’re on a special secret mission, you’ve been given ambassadorial rank, and would he please show you the usual appropriate courtesies. I’ll give him some of the details. Just enough.”
“Perfect. I’ll book us in at the Stafford Hotel on St. James Place, my favourite spot in London.”
“Separate rooms, of course?” Crisp smiled.
Rob laughed. “Madam Secretary, the Stafford is a small, exquisite hotel. If I can get in on ten days’ notice it will only be because the managing director, Terry Moore, and I are old friends. And if my superb assistant Sue and I are forced — forced, mind you — to bunk in together in the interests of Uncle Sam ... well what can I tell you or you tell me?”
It was Crisp who had the answer. He looked at Rob, saying, “Be careful, Your Excellency. Precaution is the word.”
His opinion of Crisp was warming. Perhaps he wasn’t such a