If the bioagent isn't aboard the plane, then everyone can relax and we can turn the entire question over to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum."
"What's your proposal, Director?" Sam Castilla was not Sam Castilla now. He was the President of the United States.
Klein opened a thin file folder that had been resting on the table beside him. It contained hard-copy printouts downloaded from the Covert One database in the few minutes following Baronov's departure. "According to the information available from the leader of the scientific expedition on the island, no one has yet actually reached the crash site. They've only photographed it from long range. This could prove exceedingly fortunate both for them and for us.
"Mr. President, I propose that we insert a small Covert One action group equipped for mountain and arctic operations. We include a biowarfare specialist, an expert on Soviet-era weapons systems, and the appropriate support personnel. We have them assess the situation and advise us on what we're actually facing. Once we have some solid intelligence to work with we can develop a valid response scenario."
Castilla nodded. "It makes sense to me. When do we bring Ottawa into the loop? This island-Wednesday, I think it's called-is in the Canadian Arctic. It's their territory. They have a right to know what's going on."
Klein pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You know the old saying, Sam. 'Two men can keep a secret as long as one of them is dead.' If we want to be serious about security in this matter, we have got to limit dispersion."
"That's a hell of a way to treat a neighbor, Fred. We've had our disagreements with the gentlemen up north, but they are still an old and valuable ally. I don't want to risk further damage to that relationship."
"Then let's try this," Klein replied. "We advise Ottawa that we've been approached by the Russians about the possibility that this downed mystery plane might be Soviet. We say that we aren't sure about this. There's a chance that it still could be one of ours and that we want to insert a joint U.S.-Russian investigation team to establish just who the aircraft belongs to. We'll keep them advised as to what we discover."
Klein lifted another sheet of hard copy from the file. "According to this, NOAA and the U.S. Coast Guard are supplying logistical support for the multinational science expedition on the island. The team leader is Canadian, and he's already acting as the on-site representative for the Canadian government. We can suggest using him as our designated liaison as well. We can also ask for the expedition leader to keep his people well away from the downed aircraft until the arrival of our team, to prevent the disturbance of...say...historic relics and forensic evidence."
"That could kill several birds with one stone," Castilla agreed.
"The Canadian government's resources are stretched very thin across their arctic frontier," Klein continued. "I suspect they'd be quite content to have us tidy up this little question for them. If there isn't an anthrax problem, then what they don't know can't hurt us. If there is a problem, then we can bring in the Canadian prime minister for the development-of-resolution phase."
Castilla nodded. "I think that will be an acceptable compromise. You mentioned a joint Russian-American team. Do you think that's advisable?"
"I suspect it will be unavoidable, Sam. They'll want to be hands-on with anything that concerns their national security, past, present, or future. As soon as we inform Baranov that we are initiating an investigation of the crash, I'm willing to bet he's going to insist on there being a Russian representative with our people."
Castilla tossed back the last of his whisky, making a face at its bite. "That brings us to the next big question. Are the Russians giving us a square count on this? We know they sure as hell weren't on the Bioaparat incident."
Klein didn't answer for a protracted moment. "Sam," he said finally, "whether he answers to a czar, a premier, or a president, a Russian is a Russian is a Russian. Even post-Berlin Wall, we are still dealing with a nation where conspiracy is instinctive and paranoia is a survival mechanism. Right now, I'm willing to wager you a bottle of this good bourbon that we are not being told the whole story."
Castilla chuckled under his breath. "Wager not taken. We'll work to the assumption that an alternative agenda will be in play. It will be up to your people to discern just what it is."