GREAT

"Oh, it's President Bush. Hello. It's late in Washington, is something urgent going on?" Yanaev's voice dripped with feigned innocence as he picked up the phone, already guessing how Bush would start.

Bush's voice was clipped but serious. "One of our submarines collided and disappeared near your waters. I want to know if your navy received any distress signals from our crew."

Both sides knew this was all posturing, but Bush pressed on with the pretense of concern. The loss—or capture—of American sailors would be a massive blow to U.S. pride and political standing.

Yanaev toyed with his pen, replying casually, "Oh, is that so? I'll check with the Navy Department. But… shouldn't your embassy in Moscow handle this first? It's a bit irregular for you personally to get involved in such matters."

If this had been anyone but the Soviet leader, Bush might have lost his temper. But with missing sailors and an upcoming election, he had to maintain composure.

He swallowed and said, "We're still gathering information. Until we reach our crew, it's unclear what happened. We hope you'll keep us informed."

"Of course," Yanaev answered smoothly. "We Soviets are always humanitarian, even to adversaries. We'll conduct rescue operations despite the harsh Arctic climate, but you only just called. The crew faces great danger. Rest assured, we'll do our best."

Bush's heart sank at the words. If the Americans had lost men in that frozen expanse, the political fallout would be severe.

After hanging up, Bush sighed heavily, facing the expectant eyes around him. "This isn't going to be easy. The Soviet attitude is perfunctory at best. Eagleburger, prepare your diplomats for a difficult negotiation."

Lawrence Eagleburger, Acting Secretary of State, nodded grimly. "Don't worry, Mr. President. We won't be intimidated by a Soviet Union in economic decline. But caution is critical. We must watch for traps and keep this out of the media as much as possible."

The Soviets now held the initiative—and that terrified Bush. With the July 1992 election looming, another scandal could cost him everything.

Meanwhile, Yanaev was already scheming to use this crisis to break Bush's arrogance. He knew Bush would eventually lose to the rising Clinton, and he planned to add the final blow.

Compared to Bush, Yanaev privately admitted, Clinton was more entertaining—though his presidency had mixed results. The Lewinsky scandal was infamous, and Clinton's policies met with mixed success: the military's "don't ask, don't tell" policy ended in stalemate, the luxury tax hurt the middle class, and failed health care reform contributed to Democratic losses in the 1994 midterms. Still, Clinton did oversee the booming tech industry of the '90s, though that bubble burst before his term ended.

Yanaev slapped his thigh in sudden inspiration. Grabbing his private phone, he dialed Wallace's number without hesitation, ignoring the hour.

The phone rang in the middle of the night on the other side of the world. Wallace, groggy and annoyed, answered, "Not good at all. You know waking someone up at this hour is not very friendly."

Yanaev chuckled, "Forgive me, my friend. It's still daytime here in Moscow." Without further ado, he cut to the chase: "I have news that will shock the whole world. Interested in an exclusive report?"

"Hmm?" Wallace's composure shattered the moment Yanaev spoke. If he could dismiss anyone else's claims as lies, coming from a national leader, this was something else entirely.

He sat up in bed, flicked on the bedside lamp, grabbed the microphone, and asked urgently, "What do you mean? Is there going to be a large-scale conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union?"

"Not at all," Yanaev replied smoothly. "It's just that a Los Angeles-class American submarine ventured into the Soviet Arctic Circle to gather intelligence and, due to an accident, sank in our waters. The number of casualties is currently unknown. Sounds like big news, doesn't it?"

Yanaev deliberately emphasized the unknown casualties, knowing it would tug at Wallace's instincts and sense of urgency. He suspected the U.S. government would try to suppress this story and wanted to warn Wallace—and, by extension, Democratic Party figures eager to dislodge the Republicans.

"Yes, absolutely!" Wallace's excitement was palpable. This was a scoop that could easily earn him another Pulitzer. He pushed up his glasses, voice eager. "But I'll need more details: the status of any detained crew members, the exact location of the wreck. If it's not classified, could President Yanaev also send me photos?"

"Of course, no problem. I'm always happy to assist old friends of the Soviet people," Yanaev replied with a smile. "Send me your address. I'll make sure you get exclusive photos."

"No problem at all," Wallace said quickly, providing his home address. The exclusive materials would be sent straight to him. He would synthesize everything immediately and break the story wide open.

Yanaev intentionally delayed releasing the report for several days, crafting an atmosphere ripe for suspicion that the American government was hiding the truth. The submarine accident was not reported immediately—it was uncovered by persistent reporters.

It was clear: Yanayev's moves were targeted at President Bush, and the media frenzy that erupted was likely to become a political nightmare Bush would struggle to contain. By then, both Bush's presidency and the Republican Party's public standing would be at their lowest point.