Arctic Wind

Chapter 6 Opening Moves

The change had been miraculous. Almost from that first night, Freda had been back to her old self. The smile and laughter were back and the energy had returned with a vengeance. Petyr had been amazed the next morning when he woke to see her sitting up in the tent watching a young fawn that was looking back in at her through the screened flap. She had actually been humming a song to calm the animal. Propping himself up on his elbow, he watched in wonder as the fawn just stared at her, occasionally wiggling its ears.

The look on Freda’s face had been almost heartwarming. Her smile was bright and she was clearly exhilarated by the experience, but even more so when the mother deer walked up and joined her offspring for a moment before urging it off toward the water. The rest of the time at the lake was a whirlwind of hiking, visits to some neighbors and just sitting together on the old pier.

Mr. Polski had been amazed at the transformation. His worries had vanished when she had greeted him with a big hug. She had even hugged Rudy when she got home. Later on, Mr. Polski had thanked Petyr, and urged the two of them to continue to go out and do things together.

It was now three weeks later and they had been to a morning swimming meet for their school. Both had hopped on a bus to get them back across the city so they could spend the afternoon closer to home. They hadn’t noticed that the bus was going toward the center of the city instead of toward the outskirts. Suddenly the bus screeched to a halt and the driver got out of his seat and turned to the passengers. “Everyone out! This bus is a part of a strike for our workers,” he called out loudly.

Looking up, Petyr noticed that the bus was one of several on the street blocking traffic. Once outside they could hear shouts around one of the corners and went that way to see what was happening.

There was a crowd of several hundred people gathered in a small square. Many carried signs saying “MPK is unfair.” A number of people were beginning to chant, “Treat us with respect!” Petyr could tell that many in the crowd were angry. This was far more than he or Freda needed to be a part of. “Let’s get away from here,” he told her.

They returned to where the busses were blocking the street and began making their way around the small square and away from the noise. That was when Petyr noticed their upstairs neighbor. He was standing on the lip of a wall looking into the square. On several occasions he looked as if he were giving orders to a group of men, who then rushed into the crowd. Watching from a distance, he saw that the crowd seemed to get more agitated right after he sent the men in. Then came the shock of his life. Petyr saw his own father join the man and talk for a moment, before he too went into the crowd.

Freda noticed the pained expression that suddenly appeared on his face. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

He turned to look at her. “Let’s just go. I don’t want to be here,” he said sadly. The two turned and headed away from the angry crowd. After a few blocks they heard gunfire erupt from the direction of the square. Soon the wail of police sirens was heard. They rushed past the two as they walked and kept going toward the square.

“Petyr, something’s the matter. We are too close for you not to let me know what’s troubling you,” Freda said, concerned.

When he turned toward her, she could see his eyes were moist. She reached up and placed her hand against his cheek. “I saw my father in there. He was with our neighbor upstairs. I have seen them going out before in the evening,” he said sadly. “You’ve seen the news. All those protests and people saying we are discriminating against the Russians. I overheard father talking about this on the phone. The neighbor looked like he was directing those people over there, and Father was taking orders from him,” Peter said. The realization had cut the young man to the core. “How could he do this? We are Poles. It’s as if he wants the Russians to come in and take over,” he said. Now the tears were rolling down his cheeks.

Freda pulled him into a hug. “I don’t know, Petyr. We’ve talked enough about this that I know how you feel, but no matter, we can’t talk about this to anyone. If he is helping them, we can’t let them know that we know or suspect. Let’s just get home and we’ll decide what to do later,” she said reassuringly.

Petyr nodded and the two continued their walk home. It would take several hours because the transportation had been shut down, but by that time, Petyr had calmed down and they decided to talk to Freda’s father about it. He would know what to do.

“Fifteen hundred feet keel depth, Captain,” said the Officer of the Deck.

“Very well, OOD, dive the boat. Take her down to one hundred fifty feet,” the Captain ordered.

“Aye, sir. Open the vents. Ten degree down on the dive planes. Level the ship at one hundred fifty feet,” ordered the OOD. Outside the ship great gusts of air seemed to spring up along the submarine’s hull as the vents to the ship’s main ballast tanks were opened and the air began rushing out of them. Slowly, the Virginia class submarine South Dakota sank deeper into the sea until she disappeared from sight. Within a few minutes the ship was running silently away from Norfolk.

Captain Jason Broadmore sat back in his seat and watched his people do their jobs. The South Dakota was one of the newer ships of the class and had all the bells and whistles. He was proud of his ship and now it appeared he would take her into harm’s way. His orders had been explicit. Get your ship underway and be on the lookout for Russian submarines. The next part of his instructions had been the surprise. They were to prepare the ship for unrestricted warfare against the Russians. True, everyone was talking about it, but now he had written orders to get ready for it. It was an order he never thought he would receive. Getting the ship underway at night had added to the surprise.

“Conn, sonar, I have a poss sub bearing 085,” came the report from the sonar room.

Holy shit! I never expected it to be this fast. He pressed the button on the bitch box, “You sure, sonar? It’s awfully close to shore, isn’t it?” the Captain asked.

The answer was quick and to the point. “That’s affirmative, Captain. We’re picking up nuclear plant noises. The computer says it is Oscar Number four. That would be K-119, the Voronezh. We picked up something just as we began the dive. It sounded like hull popping noises, like she was coming up for a look-see. There’s no doubt now, Captain. She’s out there. Give us a few and we should have a range,” said the Sonar Chief.

The Captain turned to his OOD. “Make the ship super quiet. Let’s see if we can sneak around him and see what he’s doing,” he said as he rushed toward the sonar room.

***

Back at the Norfolk Naval Base, a crew of men backed a truck up to the head of the pier that the South Dakota had just left. Lowering a ramp off the truck to the water’s edge, the men slid a long black tube-like structure into the water. Made of a rubberized material, it floated just on the surface. Then the men hooked a receptacle on the end still attached to the truck and turned on a machine. Slowly, the thing in the water began to grow. It spread itself along the water and began to ride just on top of it. Three men in a motor boat came around the pier and hooked a line on the end of the object. As it filled with air, a taller shape began to inch upward on the forward part of the object.

Within an hour the lines secured it to the pier and a machine was stationed on the pier to make sure it remained at a specific pressure. As the men left, they glanced back at their work. USS South Dakota was resting at her moorings just as she had before. Although everyone there knew it was fake, from an orbiting satellite, no one would know the difference.

Captain Leonid Kronovsky stared through his periscope toward the specks of light along the shore. “So this is America,” he muttered. He had taken the ship to within twelve miles of the shore. His sonar had reported noises from almost due west, but there were no signs of a ship leaving. Now the sonar was saying there were just background noises. Good. He would wait for his orders, then show the Americans what the Russian Navy was capable of.

“Come about. Make your course zero nine zero. Let us get to our holding area and wait for our orders,” he told his crew. Everyone aboard was excited. Few had been this close to the United States.

Finally, their mission was complete. Captain Stephan Gromyko ordered his ship about and away from the coast. Home was still a long way off, but they had been able to complete their part of this grand mission two weeks before everything was to begin. Luckily, the timers in the mines they had laid would not activate the system until needed. Between Norfolk, Virginia, Kings Bay, Georgia, and Mayport, Florida, they had been able to crank out forty of the things, even though they normally could only carry twenty four. That had made the crew happy. When they got underway every conceivable space had been taken up by the mines. The crew had to sleep in whatever nook or cranny they could find. In the Chita, a diesel electric submarine that the west had nicknamed a Kilo Class, it meant no room at all. But now the decks and passageways were cleared and the bunks were open again. Once outside the twenty mile limit, Gromyko ordered the beer ration to be distributed, and the crew’s happy attitude had returned.

The snorkel was raised and the sub’s diesels were started. The fresh air was pulled through the small submarine, sweeping out the smells of sweat and body odor that had seemingly permeated the ship. Once the batteries were fully charged, they would go deep and slowly make their way home. Hopefully, they would make it in time to rearm with torpedoes and play an even greater role in the coming conflict. Chita may be old, but he was a good submarine. Gromyko grabbed a bottle for himself. It was just a small reward for a job well done.

“Good evening, everyone, I am Candice Morton and here are the top headlines. CNN has learned that California Governor Mark Yost will be indicted for corruption and accepting illicit payments for aiding insurance companies in avoiding paying for earthquake damages. Revised California insurance statutes were passed under his insistence just two years ago. California Attorney General Larry Summers said the indictment stems from influence the Governor exerted to initiate the new laws and the payments he received for that influence over a period of three years. CNN has learned that the governor received over seven million over that period from several insurance companies providing earthquake insurance.

“We have irrefutable evidence that Governor Yost used his considerable influence to change the laws so that insurance companies would have significantly reduced liability for payments to their clients. The result was far smaller payouts than earthquake insurance in other states. The Governor then received remuneration over a period of three years for this influence,” said Summers on camera.

“Governor Yost had ties with the insurance industry before becoming governor. Those ties were supposed to be ended upon assuming office, but he has remained secretly on several payrolls. All of this was sparked by the class action suit against the insurance industry and the Governor’s office by Mayor Patricia Hammond of San Pedro, California, when she found that nearly everyone in her city had been turned down for assistance after a massive earthquake shattered her city.”

The image changed to a background shot of tear gas being deployed toward a large crowd of people. “In other news, riots broke out and shots were fired in Krakow, Poland, today as workers for the city’s transit system went on strike to protest what the workers called persecution of older ethnic Russians. Mike Harrell has a report from Krakow.”

Mike Harrell appeared on the screen with a crowd of people protesting in the background. “Violence erupted during a protest in the middle of Krakow, Poland, today as local workers from the MPK, the city’s transit operators, demonstrated for what they called fairness for the ethnic Russian workers they say are being mistreated.”

A young man appeared on the screen, “They force the older ones out with nothing. They lose everything they have worked hard for. Ivan Ileneovich even took his own life because of what they did,” he complained.

The image switched back to Harrell. “Ivan Ileneovich, an ethnic Russian who had moved to Poland during the Soviet era, recently committed suicide when his supervisors at MPK fired him for no apparent reason. His death sparked an outcry from workers across the country denouncing what they call the persecution of ethnic Russians in Polish industries. The protest today started peacefully enough, but in the middle of the protest someone opened fire. In all, four shots were fired somewhere in the crowd, killing two people and injuring two others. The injured were rushed to the hospital where doctors say they are in stable condition. Protesters blamed local police and began moving through the area breaking windows and setting fire to vehicles. Police used tear gas to break up the crowd, but protesters continue to express their anger at the situation. This is Mike Harrell, in Krakow.”

“In further news, more protests have occurred throughout Russia as more people demonstrate against the harsh treatment protesters have been receiving in recent weeks. James Matthews reports.”

“Protesters in St. Petersburg were met by heavily armed troops today when they protested brutal uprisings against students at the local university. This is the seventh such incident involving protesting students and the police. Local activists were very vocal of their criticism of the government.”

The image shifted to a protester with a bleeding cut over one eye. “We have the right to tell the government we do not like what they do. The students are being beaten for no reason but expressing ourselves. This must stop,” the student said.

Matthews continued. “Today’s action happened when students on campus gathered near their student union to smoke and talk amongst themselves. There was evidently no formal protest.”

Another student was seen with a black eye. “We weren’t doing anything,” the girl cried out. “We are there every day after lunch just to talk between classes. We did nothing,” she emphasized.

“The crackdown on protesters continues. Russian government officials insist that this is an internal affair to counter terrorist activities and ideas coming from other European nations. This is James Matthews, for CNN in St. Petersburg.”

“We will be back with more, right after this.”

Mr. Polski sat back and rubbed his chin. The information about Petyr’s father and his upstairs neighbor was almost unbelievable. But he also knew Petyr and Freda wouldn’t make something like this up. In either case, something needed to be looked into and he knew he was not the man to do the job. He looked over at the two young people sitting together across from him on the couch. “You are sure it was your father, Petyr?” he asked.

The boy seemed almost in tears again as he nodded his head. “Yes, sir. I wish it weren’t so.”

Mr. Polski could see how much this was tearing the young man apart. If there were a doubt, he would have known it. He sat forward in his seat. “”Petyr, do not blame yourself. There may be things going on that we do not understand,” he reassured the young man. “But I believe we need to look into this. I will talk to someone I know. If it is nothing, then all will be well. If not, well, then it is something we need to stop,” he said gravely. “Until then, the two of you need to promise me that you will tell no one about what you have seen. Not your schoolmates, not your friends, not even other members of the family. You need to act as if nothing has happened. This is important. If something is wrong, we do not need to warn them that others know. We also do not need to bring harm to ourselves. If this is something to do with the Russians, we could all find ourselves in very real danger. So we act as if nothing happened. The person I talk to will be able to sort this out and then do something about it without anyone getting harmed. Do you think you can do this?” he asked.

Petyr spoke up for the both of them. “We can try.”

Mr. Polski smiled. “Good. Now I suggest you two go down and sit on the bench like you usually do. Just leave things to me. I’ll let you know if we find out anything,” he said.

Petyr gave a sigh and the two stood and left the apartment. Polski’s face hardened to a frown. First of all, he was angry that something like this was being done in his country, but most of all, he was angry that it should happen to a young man he had become very fond of. Petyr had become like a son to the man and he was proud that Petyr had been able to shoulder such a burden. To be faced with the thought that his own father was a traitor to his country was clearly eating away at the boy.

Getting up from his seat, he moved to a small office he had arranged in the apartment. Scrolling through an old Rolodex, he found the name he was looking for and picked up the phone. After a few rings a familiar voice answered the phone. “Erich, it is Hector. I think I need your help.”

It was the fourth meeting between the NATO military commanders since Hammond had begun the job. Since that time, he and they had worked out a much more detailed plan on how to deal with the Russians should they invade one of the NATO nations. They were all sitting around a heavy oblong table in a large old style meeting room with oak paneling and ornate mirrors on the walls. General Eves LeMonde, Commander of the French forces had been a headache from the very beginning. According to him, the whole thing was doomed to failure unless the French were in charge. He also did not buy into the idea that the Russians would invade.

“This is a waste,” he said. “We are optimistic that all of this can be settled diplomatically. Our ambassador has personally met with Borodin and the negotiations are going well. Nevertheless, I do not think we would agree that everyone should fight on soil other than our own. To use up French troops in Poland or elsewhere would mean fewer available to defend our own borders,” he stated. It was obvious by his arrogance that he had little regard for the others in the room.

“So you would allow the rest of us to bleed while you remained behind your borders, hoping we will be successful,” said Sir Richard. “General, did you not learn anything from the last war? You did practically nothing to prepare because you figured your Maginot Line would be sufficient. We all know what happened. General, France has a marvelous army. On several occasions you have held exercises with the other NATO nations and it performed brilliantly. We need the force of that army, navy and air force to make all this work. You may be correct, that it will be worked out diplomatically, but we cannot take that risk. You see, we took such a risk, and Chamberlin came back with a slip of paper declaring peace in our time. We paid the price for that complacency. That is why we feel it is vitally important to make these moves and plans now,” he said calmly. Sir Richard was fed up with the stalling the French had been doing, but it wouldn’t be British to lose his temper, especially not now.

“Actually, I like the ideas Admiral Hammond put forward. They use what we had planned and added to them immeasurably. His ideas to use our technologies could be the turning point for all of this. Yes, it may be for nothing, but then a lot of war planning is just that,” said Dortmund. “We have actually developed a few drones of our own to be a part of this. It makes sense,” he said.

“If I may, Italy is almost on the sidelines in all of this, but we feel threatened just as much as the rest of you. For that reason alone, we will be providing our assets. We feel it is all or nothing,” said Admiral Giuseppe Lagonda, the Italian representative. “I have brought these ideas to my government and they are feeling confident that this is the best form of action.”

General LeMonde gave a Gaelic shrug. “Then who is to lead it? France feels that to have anyone but a Frenchman in charge might be detrimental to the diplomatic effort. We need someone with a steady hand and a sensitivity to the needs of all our European nations,” he said.

Sir Richard looked as if he might explode, but it was Roger Hammond who spoke. “General LeMonde, you are quite correct. We do need someone who is sensitive to the needs and goals of Europe. We need someone who is fair and just in their decisions. More importantly, we need someone who balances all these things and still gets the ultimate job done. That job will be to defeat the aims of any enemy, whether it is Russia or any other nation. But ultimately, that decision will be made by our political leadership. If it were left to us, we would probably argue until we were overrun. At this point, we need to go back to our leaders and let them know what we are planning, then they will need to meet and decide which direction we shall go, and who will lead us. We are all free to give our best advice, but they must make the choice or no one will be in charge. Do we all agree on this?” he asked.

The men and women in the room nodded. “It is all we can do. Let us all hope the decisions will be made before it is too late,” said General Alma Gutierro of the Spanish Air Force.

LeMonde nodded as well. “Oui, certainement,” he said. “Let the people with the authority do something for a change,” he said with a slight grin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a pleasure, once again,” said Sir Richard to close out the meeting. “We shall meet back here in two weeks’ time.”

The officers got up from the table and said their good byes. Sir Richard watched LeMonde leave the room then walked over to Hammond. “Roger, nice job with LeMonde. I was ready to bite the bugger’s head off,” he said.

“I noticed you getting upset, but we have more to deal with than egos. I’m hoping out leadership picks someone good to lead this effort. What about you?” Hammond asked.

“Posh. I haven’t the patience. Put me in charge of a fleet. Slogging around in the mud isn’t my cup of tea,” Sir Richard grunted. “Mind you, I hope that gal Richardson is with us. She’s top notch.”

“I agree. Claire can get the job done, but her place might be better at the head of her troops. I personally hope she’s head of the American Forces. That would give them something to think about,” Hammond said.

Sir Richard chuckled. “It might at that. Well, I must be off. There’s a plane waiting for me to usher me back home. What about you?”

Hammond looked at his watch. “Mine leaves in three hours. Just enough time to gather my bags and hop aboard. After next meeting I may stop a few days in London. If so I may hitch a ride,” he said happily.

“Right! I know a few pubs we can crawl to. Helps take the edge off what we do. Besides, I know of a few from your stop a few years ago who wouldn’t mind sharing a pint or two with us. Could be a fun time. Let me know if it’s a go and you can stay at my flat,” Sir Richard said while slapping Hammond on the back. Hammond grabbed his cover and left the room, but Sir Richard held back a minute. He cornered Dortmund. “Helmut, I was wondering what you thought about someone to lead this parade. Who would you recommend?”

Dortmund laughed and raised both hands. “It won’t be a German, people still have rough feelings, but I had someone in mind to lead it. As a matter of fact, I am going to recommend him to the Chancellor tomorrow,” he said.

“I wonder if we are looking at the same fellow,” Sir Richard said. Dortmund told him, and indeed, they were.

“Good evening, everyone, I am Candice Morton and here are the top headlines. Near riots broke out in Sacramento, California today as residents of the state angrily protested in front of the Governor’s office. Some thirteen million people were impacted by the insurance company scandal and many residents, especially those from the southern California area came to Sacramento to voice their anger. Governor Yost has refused to step down and the Attorney General for California is continuing with his indictment. In the meantime, President O’Bannon, in an effort to aid the people affected by the insurance scandal, has promised additional federal help to get people housed and fed.”

“I have asked the congress to provide three billion in aid to the people of southern California, to help them rebuild and reestablish their lives. At the same time, our military will continue to help the people of this region by providing food and medical aid where it is needed,” O’Bannon said on camera from the White House Press Room.

“President O’Bannon also had this to say about Mayor Patricia Hammond’s efforts during the disaster.”

“Mayor Hammond should be commended. She got her people the help they sorely needed quickly and effectively, and she continues to do what she can where she can. I can say that because of her efforts, the people of San Pedro, California, have been able to recover quicker than anywhere else in California. So, my hat’s off to Mayor Hammond.”

“At the same time, the tent city that has become Los Angeles continues to grow. The Army has provided thousands of temporary shelters for its citizens and only now are the streets becoming passable in some areas. More news after this break.”

Tim Reardon sat in his office sweating out the details of building two aircraft carriers, four destroyers and a cruiser when the buzzer on his phone went off. He grabbed the phone and let out a gruff, “Reardon.”

“Mr. Reardon, there’s an admiral her that asked to speak to you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but says he knows you. His name is Shransky,” said his assistant.

The headache went away and a smiled came to Reardon’s face. “Send him on in, Nancy.”

Vice Admiral Mike Shransky entered the room and was met by Reardon almost at the door. Reardon gave him a bear hug. “Mike! Damn it’s good to see you again. How’s it been?”

“Tim, it’s great. I see you’re still in business,” Shransky joked.

Reardon ushered him to a chair. “Yea, I manage to scratch out a living. What brings you down here? Don’t tell me you want to build battleships again,” Reardon said with glee.

Shransky laughed. “No, but there’s something going on and I’m checking around to see where I need to go. Since you know everybody in the world, I thought I’d come talk to you,” he said.

“Never fails, you navy guys keep running back to us civilians. What can I help you with?”

Shransky became more serious. “Tim, this is one you will have to keep to yourself. We have developed something that is a game changer. It’s a synthetic cloth that actually absorbs RF energy like some sort of sponge. We’ve been working on it up at David Taylor and it’s even more impressive than we realized. Our problem is, with all the things going on, we may need to get this stuff manufactured and on our ships and planes as quick as we can. David Taylor just doesn’t have that capability. So, I guess I need three things. First, I need someone who can take a chemical compound and make the synthetic strands. Second, I need someone who can weave it into a cloth, and third, I need either a kiln or ovens that can heat the thing to at least 450 degrees. It all has to be done in the utmost secrecy and as quickly as possible. Who might you think could do this?” Shransky asked.

Reardon thought a moment. “I can think of a few, but the big problem is actually going to be finding someone with the looms. How big a piece are we talking about here?”

“We calculate the largest piece might just have to be ten feet square or at least 100 square feet. The dimensions may change to fit the ships or aircraft. The actual cloth will need to be doubled since it needs two layers of continuous cloth. We fold it over and then coat it with a plant resin,” said Shransky.

A smile returned to Reardon’s face. “Hang on a second,” he said to Shransky as he picked up the phone. “Nancy, get me Hank Thomas over at Dow Corning, please.” He turned back to Shransky. “Mike, Hank just opened a new facility across the creek to help us with some of our efforts. I know there’s a big chemical component and some of what he does involved some weaving. I don’t think he has any ovens, but I got a shop full of the damn things. Maybe we can work something out.” The phone rang next to his desk and he picked it up. “Hank? It’s Tim. Look, have you got a few minutes, I want to bring somebody by there to talk a little business. He needs to see your operation. Is that okay?” He paused a moment. “Great. Give us about ten minutes and we’ll be there. Thanks Hank,” Reardon said as he hung up the phone.

In just over ten minutes the two men were in Thomas’ office. A half hour later, a sole source contract was begun to begin manufacturing on a much larger scale.

The first ships had left the previous week bound for France. This was the second wave. Under a contract with Hyundai, and two other automakers, eight of the large car carriers made their way through the channel and out to sea along with four cruise ships. Onboard were the tip of the American spear, the First Armored Division and the First Cavalry Division. Nearly emptying their bases in Fort Hood and Fort Bliss, the men and machines were packed into the ships. Like in the Korean War, temporary berthing had to be set up on the upper decks, but down below was a full division of tanks, trucks, guns and equipment. For General Moynahan, it was like what they had gone through in Korea. It would be tight, but well worth it to try and stop the Russians.

The trip was a gamble. If just two of the ships were sunk, a huge part of the American effort would go down with them, but there was no time. The hard part was moving all of the men and equipment at night. Every effort was made to move the troops as secretly as possible. Families were told the men were going on exercises. Reservists were called in to man the bases and make it look as if the divisions were still there. It had been a monumental task, but now it looked like the normal traffic in and out of Galveston. They would have a hard time keeping the secret once the ships turned up in Brest, but that was someone else’s problem.

Moynahan sat back in his cabin and thought about what was going on. The 101st and the 82nd Airborne divisions were going to be leaving for Great Britain in just five days. But he was a little miffed that the first convoy had left from Morehead City, North Carolina, the week before. It carried the Second Marine Division. There was talk about sending the First Marine Division as well. Moynahan grinned. If they were smart they would send Claire Richardson in with them. Between the two of them, they had swept through the North Korean troops as if they were nothing more than tissue paper. It would be nice to see her again, he thought.

It would take a day to get through the Gulf of Mexico. He hoped the Atlantic would be a smooth ride.

Seated around the room were the executives of all the major media outlets in the United States. All of them were familiar with each other. They had worked closely with both the government and each other during the Korean War and each had an idea of why they had been asked to come today. After a few minutes, the President came in the room and took his seat at the table.

“Good morning,” the President started. “It’s nice to see you all again. I wanted to bring you all in to talk about how we should deal with something that is happening in Europe. Before I do, I am requesting that none of what we discuss will be made public. Like in Korea, we do not want someone to know what we are doing and what we plan. So I am asking you here for your advice and to help me with some decisions I have to make,” he said.

Brad Freeman from CBS News raised his hand, interrupting the President. “Mister President, are you asking us not to report things again?” he asked.

“Actually, I wanted to ask if that was necessary,” the President said. “Let me share with you what is going on. As you have reported, the Russians have, over a period of four years, re-annexed a number of former Soviet bloc nations. Using the excuse that they were looking out for the best interests of ethnic Russians, they have spread through the eastern parts of Europe. It started in the Ukraine and now it is happening in Poland. The Poles want no part of this and as members of NATO, are asking for help. Unfortunately, if Russia attacks Poland, the NATO nations will respond with force.”

“My God, that’s just how the Second World War started,” said one of the men. There were other murmurs around the table.

“You are quite correct, and that’s what bothers us most. Just like back then, our diplomatic efforts are going nowhere. We’ve been working hard on this, but nothing is jelling. For your information, I asked the Russian President for a summit so that we could discuss what is going on. We were turned down flat. I am afraid we don’t have many options left. I fear that in a short period of time you will be reporting on another war,” the President admitted.

The voices around the table were raised again as the men expressed their anguish. Then Bob Kelso from CNN raised his hand. “Mister President, my people have been seeing the same thing. Word is coming back to my offices of all the unrest and it appears to be planned occurrences. So if this is going to be, we need to come together like we did last time. From my point of view it worked very well,” he said.

“Not again,” screeched one of the men. “I will not be dictated to by a government! I have the right to report what I hear and know, and it is against the constitution for anyone to say otherwise,” he nearly screamed.

“Damnit Chaz, what part of this don’t you understand?” Kelso exclaimed. “We are getting ready to go to war and this man is asking our help. Don’t you remember the last time? This man gave us more information than anybody and then simply asked us not to report something without checking in first. We in this room planned out exactly what would be reported and what would be withheld as our part of the war effort. As I recall, the President didn’t ever tell us not to report something, just to hold the story until the actions were completed. Now I don’t know about you, but I personally don’t want our people killed because some reporter shot off his mouth at the wrong time and place. And one other thing,” he said pointing his finger at the man, “We found out loud and clear that the American Public were behind what we did. Since we are supposedly doing what we do as a part of the people’s right to know, then we have to admit that sometimes the public doesn’t want to know some things. If you or anyone else in this room decides to move otherwise, you may find out that the public may no longer support their news organization.” Kelso stopped a second and regained his composure. “Mister President, I found that the time we worked together in the Korean War was the most gratifying of my entire career. You were open and honest the whole time. Not once did I ever feel we had let the public down, and not once did we ever publish information that might hurt our people. I, for one, would welcome that relationship again. And that includes the fact that the First Cav and First Armored just left Galveston,” he said with a wink. “We’re holding onto that story,” he said smiling.

President O’Bannon smiled and shook his head. “Well, I would like to work together again, but during the last war, I found that in many cases you withheld stories on your own. Just like you did today, Bob, you assumed the responsibility and did the job yourselves. I was going to ask if you were willing to take that responsibility,” he said.

Brad Freeman shook his head. “No, sir, as you also saw today, there are some hotheads who just may not be ready to take that responsibility on. Let’s go back to what we did last time. We’ll call this office if we see anything and check first. I take it our cable and satellite outlets will keep our feet to the fire?” he asked with a grin.

The DISH rep nodded from his chair. “That’s right. Anyone breaking our trust will lose their contract, and I will be glad to tell the public why.” The other cable and satellite providers nodded in agreement.

The President threw up his hands. “And I was worried this might be a long meeting,” he said.

There was laughter around the table and one of the men raised his hand. “Mister President, would you mind filling us in on what is going on at present? It may give us a few things to watch out for,” he said.

The President nodded. “Good idea. Of course I remind you that none of this is to get out. Like the last time, we are getting a little sneaky. Maybe after I share what I have some of you will feel a little better about this cooperative effort,” he said. The briefing lasted a good forty five minutes. Once it was over, he took the time to thank each of the men and then he hung around and just talked. They had just re-formed a powerful team and getting reacquainted was more a reward than a chore.

“What a clusterfuck!” exclaimed Master Sergeant Ricks as he watched the drone students seemingly attack a group of camped soldiers. All of them had rushed in to take care of business, but there was no order to the assault. As a result, the same first ten people seen were hit by at least thirty different drones. The rest were left alone. Ricks turned to the Colonel in charge, who simply shook his head.

“What a mess,” the Colonel sighed. Officers shouldn’t use the same expletives the enlisted did. “Okay, how do we clean this up? This was just 100 people. Imagine an attack with over a thousand,” he said.

Ricks watched as things unfolded on the screen in front of them. He looked back at the Colonel. “Colonel, we go back to basics. Battalions, companies, platoons. We have platoons of twenty men run by a sergeant. Companies of ten platoons run by first and second lieutenants, then a battalion of ten companies run by a major. We assign each to a sector and run the drill as if these were boots on the ground. Each gets told where to go, then they march out. The sergeants tells their people where to go. The first lieutenants tell the sergeants and the Major runs a whole sector. We plan these things out and send them in again. It means hooking up some communications sets, but it’s only in one building. Hell, we’ve been running the army that way my whole career. No use changing it now,” Ricks said. “I’d even bring them all in on a briefing just before each raid. At least then everybody’s singing from the same music.”

“I agree,” the Colonel said. “Call down to signals and have them rig it up. We run the same thing tomorrow morning and see how it works,” he said.

They both turned to watch as several of the drones actually ran into each other trying to maneuver around. “I may cry,” Ricks said exacerbated.

Things were moving rapidly around the Pentagon. Troops and equipment were moving and the security around the building had jumped up dramatically. Everyone was searched going in and out, slowing everything to a crawl in the early mornings and late evenings. Lt. Jeffers now had to get to work around 4:30 am. In order to get through the already burgeoning crowd and get to his desk on time. Yet, his job had gotten a lot slower. Admiral Hammond was attending more meetings and there were longer periods where he just sat and waited for his phone to ring. Captain Clarity had him doing quite a bit, but Jeffers always wanted to keep busy doing something. Daydreaming was not fun.

This particular morning Hammond went to the morning brief and asked him to sit still and wait until he returned. An hour later, Hammond came back in and went into his office. He beckoned Jeffers to join him. “Rod, have a seat,” he said. “I have been feeling like I have been deficient in your training. I promised that I would make sure you were ready for promotion, so as a part of that, I want you to take some time and do something for me.”

“What can I do, Admiral?” Jeffers asked.

“You’ve seen operational plans, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking more about what we talked about a while back concerning the Black Sea. Now, I know this is well above your paygrade, but we think a lot alike. I want you to give a crack at planning out our operations there. How can we get in and do what we discussed. What we’ll be up against, all that. Then write up everything, the order of battle, logistics, the timing, everything. Don’t worry about forgetting something, if I like it, we can flesh it out. So let me see what you can do. If nothing else it will get you ready for a senior staff job down the line. So, what do you say? You up to it?” Hammond asked.

Jeffers was almost overwhelmed. He had never done anything like this before, especially to this scale. The closest he had come to it was some of the shipboard plans he had worked out for Captain Davis. But he never turned down a challenge. Jeffers let out a slow whistle. “That’s a tall order, Boss, but if you want it, I’ll do it. How long before you need it?” Jeffers asked.

Hammond was glad the young man had not folded under this kind of pressure. Davis had told him how thorough Jeffers was and just how smart he could be. “Let’s get the first draft to me in two weeks. I’m taking you off your normal duties and let you plug away at this full time. Go visit who you need to in this place, but let’s get something down on paper. Then I promise, I’ll give it a look and we can critique it together. I can then use any parts I like and make up the overall plans,” Hammond said.

“Aye, sir. I’ll get it done. How limited am I with assets?”

Good question, Hammond thought. “You can use up to a quarter of fleet assets. That should get you started. If you need more, come talk to me about it,” he said.

Jeffers stood. “I’ll get started right now, Boss,” he said with a grin.

Jeffers turned and went back to his desk. Where do you start? He wondered. Sitting down, he thought a few minutes, then called up the yeoman in the outer office. In ten minutes a large book-like file with folders was laid on his desk. It was old and musty, but quite readable. On the cover of the book were two words, “Operation Overlord.”

Governor Yost had nearly barricaded himself in his office. Three lines of state police officers were stationed in the halls and corridors. He almost never left his office. As a result, he looked frazzled. His usually immaculately tailored suit was wrinkled and stained. His eyes told a story of a desperate man, trying to escape. He sat at his desk alone. Few people except reporters tried to contact him. His party had deserted him, more to the point; they had given up on reasoning with him. His ship was sinking and he was at the helm, speeding things up.

His aide entered the room. “Governor, it’s time to leave to greet the Prime Minister of Malaysia,” he said.

The Governor looked up at the man with tired eyes. “I don’t want to go.”

The young man insisted. “I’m afraid you have to. They are going to open up some manufacturing up north and it will be the best news for the state since you came into office. If you don’t meet him, the whole thing might be called off. You need to go, for the business and to do something to improve your image. I’ve taken care of everything. No crowds, no close media. Just meet the man and get him in your car. You will drive back here and it will be all over,” he said.

Yost gave a long sigh. “Oh, okay,” he grunted. He stood up and brushed himself off. Another aid came in and helped him straighten up a bit. Once he looked reasonably well, the men left the office and made their way down to the basement garage where the limousine was waiting. Getting in, he was whisked out of the garage and into the sunlight.

The drive to LAX was silent. The aide had tried to brief him, but Yost simply told him to keep quiet. Along the way, crowds of protesters lined the streets shouting and waving signs. At one point, the limo swerved as a protester jumped out of the crowd and ran toward the car. Just missing the man, he had thrown something onto the limousine. It was feces.

Circling around to the business terminal, the limo pulled through the gates and stopped beside the glass and steel building. A red carpet was rolled up just outside the entrance. Just ten minutes later a large Boeing 757 made its way down the runway and pulled left along the taxiway toward the business terminal. It was brightly marked with the colors of Malaysia Airlines. Once in position, a boarding stair was wheeled into place and the red carpet rolled out for the dignitary. The representative from the consulate and the State Department came out and were staring back toward the limo.

The State Policeman escorting the Governor had scanned the area to make sure all the security was in place, then opened the door for the Governor. Yost stepped from the limo and made his way cautiously to the men waiting for him.

The crack of a high powered rifle was unmistakable. Security forces swarmed toward the direction of the shot as the Governor slumped to the ground. Several of the State Police rushed to his side, but it was no use. The shot had entered the side of his head and exited the other side. Governor Yost would not be seeking reelection.

The phone rang at his desk and Hammond picked up the receiver. “Hammond.”

“Roger, come see me,” said the CNO on the other line.

“Right away,” said Hammond as he quickly got up and made his way out the door to his office and into the CNO’s office in the same suite. The CNO was standing by his desk. “Roger, pack your bags. Your presence is requested in London,” Admiral Perry Johnson said with a slight grin.

“But I just got back from there,” Hammond insisted.

“Maybe, but you are going just the same. You will be meeting with the British Prime Minister and His Majesty the King,” the CNO stated.

That made Hammond stop. “The King?”

Johnson laughed. “You have been getting some attention overseas and they want to talk to you about some of the things you have been talking about,” he said. “I got a call from Sir Richard telling me that you needed to get back there pronto. You’ll be staying at his townhouse in London, then after your meetings you are to go to Germany and meet with their Prime Minister there. The Prime Ministers of Belgium and Denmark will meet with you at the same time,” he said.

Hammond stood with his eyes wide. “What the hell have I done?” he asked.

Perry Johnson laughed. “Son, you have just been thrown into the political quagmire that is known as Europe. I’m afraid you have won over their military types and now the politicians want to get hold of you.” He motioned to a seat.

After sitting down Johnson continued, “Look, Roger, these guys are running a little scared. You came in and calmed them down a bit, so naturally, they are interested in who you are and what you may have to say on all that’s going on. Steve called me and said to tell you to go over there and keep doing what you’re doing. He said it’s the first unifying thing to happen to those guys since we won the war. So just pack up and go. Try and take some time to enjoy yourself. It will be a one week trip.”

Hammond sat back and deflated a bit. “This is getting awfully tiring going back and forth to the continent,” he commented, then sat up in his seat. “And Patricia was coming up this weekend. I had hoped to spend a little time with them,” he exclaimed.

The CNO got a slightly hurt look on his face. “Sorry about that Roger, but this has got to happen. Do you want to take her along?”

Hammond shook his head. “No, she can’t be away that long and Little Steve doesn’t have a passport.”

“We can fix that if you like. You sure?”

Hammond thought a minute, then shook his head again. “No, if I take them it will be for us, not for business. Besides, you know how this will go. I probably won’t have the time to do much of anything but schmooze.”

The CNO’s face got a resigned look. “I hate that, Roger. The both of you have been through a lot. Let’s get this done and I’ll see what we can do to get you some time together,” he promised.

Hammond gave a weak smile. “I appreciate it. I know it’s not your fault. When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow,” Johnson said with a shrug.

Hammond chuckled and shook his head. He pointed his finger at his boss, “Keep this up and I’ll talk to my detailer,” he joked.

The CNO placed his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll pick you up in the morning and take you to the plane. It’s a Navy one this time. We’re sending you in style,” he said.

“Oh great,” Hammond said as they left the office. Both were stopped cold with news from California.

Erich Bolin sat in the back of a van and pored over the files of the case. It still amazed him how a seemingly innocuous request sometimes unravels into a major case. There had been nearly twenty major riots or near riots in Poland recently that had sifted down to something concerning ethnic Russians. After conducting a search of videos in the areas surrounding the events, the man calling himself Filip Menski had been seen at fifteen of them. After getting the call from his friend Hector Polski, he had tried to look the man up and found nothing at all, not even a birth certificate. That red flag led to some surveillance. From there, it was found that he met regularly with a group of men, including Anton Kursov, a pharmacist who was renting out an apartment to Menski. A simple check led to the discovery that all of the men were Polish citizens that had come to Poland from the Soviet Union in the last century before the breakup. That had been when he contacted Agencja Wywiadu, the nation’s foreign intelligence service.

It hadn’t taken long before Menski had been identified as Anton Bugayev, a member of the Russian SVR. The last place Bugayev had been seen was in the Ukraine just prior to the Russian takeover. A van had been placed one block from the apartment to keep an eye on things. To their surprise, it had picked up radio transmissions from the apartment after two of their meetings. Bolin’s case was rock solid. But, as usual, he wanted a little icing on his cake. They had learned there would be a meeting tonight in the basement of an apartment building not far from the Polski residence. Already the listening devices had been planted and a tracer placed on Bugayev’s scooter. A squad of twenty men was waiting in three vans to go in and assault them during the meeting. He would catch them all at one time.

One of the men stuck his head around the curtain in the van. “They started their meeting,” he said.

“Is it being recorded?”

“Yes sir, we are ready when you say go.”

Bolin peeked around the curtain and scanned the street. It was quiet. “We go in as planned, van three, go to the back, the other two go to the front. Make this quick. Now move!” he ordered.

The three vans sprang around the corners of the buildings and pulled up directly by the only exits of the building. Immediately the doors flew open and the fully armed officers, dressed in black, rushed into the building.

The radio team heard a warning from somewhere in the building over a separate frequency. Inside the basement, the men tried to scatter. Several made it to the basement stairs before several of the police crashed through the door screaming for everyone to get on the ground. Two of the men made a break for the two small basement windows, only to be stopped by officers standing outside. It was a wild melee until the officers were finally able to get everyone down and on the floor. Once there, Bolin surveyed the captives. “Alright Bugayev, time to show your face,” he said. None of the men on the floor moved. Cursing in disgust, he had each man turned over to see their faces. Bugayev wasn’t there. “Son of a bitch!” Bolin swore. He looked around the room for other places for people to hide. That was when he noticed the laundry chute. The end of a rope was dangling from the opening.

“Get some men going through the building, room by room. I want that man found immediately,” he screamed.

Several of the men started to head back up the stairs when a call came out over the radio. “Someone just jumped down the fire escape!”

More units were called in and an extensive search was begun in the area, but after an exhaustive search, there was nothing. Anton Bugayev had escaped.

The difference had been night and day. Today’s exercise had sent the same 100 drones against a training battalion on the exercise fields. Tanks and troops were everywhere, yet, in a matter of ten minutes, the drones had descended on the troops and had simulated kills on over 600 different people. After expending the last rounds, the drones had returned to their launch points and had been shut down. The general watching the display could not believe his eyes.

“How many of these things do we have?” the General asked.

“My understanding is there are already five thousand of the things ready to rock and roll. This is the first class. A second is in training and a third has started. I called down to Bragg. They already have over a thousand people trained and they are on transports to Germany. We shared the organizational ideas and the communications setup. They replicated it and saw the same results. These guys will head out day after tomorrow,” said the Colonel.

The General slapped the Colonel on the shoulder. “Get them ready fast, Colonel. I have a feeling we will need them over there yesterday,” he said.

Hammond finished putting some papers into his briefcase for the trip. Captain Clarity had made sure he had all he would need. Just as he was about to leave, Clarity entered the office one last time. “By the way, I have some reading material for you,” he said with a grin. He handed over a three ring binder a good five inches thick.

Hammond got a pained look on his face. “Mike, don’t you think I have enough to do?” he asked.

Clarity held up both hands. “No, you need to read this. Our illustrious Flag Lieutenant completed his task. I took a look at it last night. Didn’t get to sleep until three a.m.” He looked hard at Hammond. “Admiral, I’ve never seen anything like it in my career. You really need to read it,” he emphasized.

Hammond looked at the binder. “But it’s only been a week and a half. It can’t be that good.”

Clarity lifted an eyebrow. “I said the same thing, but you won’t believe what he’s come up with. Our Tennessee boy just impressed the hell out of me. Besides, you have an eight hour flight. You have nothing better to do,” he grinned.

The CNO entered the office. “All set?”

Hammond placed the binder under his arm. “Yep. Aren’t you coming?”

Johnson shrugged, “No, I have to go over to the White House. But your transportation is all set,” he said.

Hammond nodded. “Fine. By the way, how much can I share with these folks? I was thinking about the new materials we tested at David Taylor and the drone stuff,” he said.

Johnson thought a moment. “Share what you need. We’ll probably need to give the stuff to them anyway. They need to know what you are thinking and what we can do to help. Make them feel better about things,” he said.

Hammond nodded. “Will do.” He started out the door then turned back to Johnson. “By the way, don’t feel bad about messing up the weekend. Turns out Patricia has to go to the funeral anyway, so I just can’t hold it against you,” he said with a smirk.

“She’ll probably have more fun than you will,” Johnson said from the door as Hammond left the office.

Hammond and Clarity made their way down the corridor and exited the doors by the river entrance. The official car was there to take him to Andrews Air Force Base where the Gulfstream was waiting. Lieutenant Jeffers was there holding the door. “Your bags are in the trunk. Wish I was going with you,” he said.

Hammond smiled at the young man. “I wish you were too, but this will be fast and dirty. But I have a little something of yours to read,” he said holding up the binder, “so I doubt I’ll have much time to myself. We’ll talk when I get back,” he said as he climbed into the car.

Closing the door, Jeffers watched as the car went down the ramp and around the corner of the building. He had been working day and night to do something to help his boss. Somehow he knew that Hammond was being looked at for something special. He hoped he could be there with him.

Bugayev was already in his safe house. All of his team had been captured, but in reality it didn’t make any difference. A separate group would carry out the final big demonstration, then his job would change. From the invasion until the operation was over, he would run an underground unit to sabotage what military operations he could.

He pulled his coat tighter around him. It was getting colder and being in a damp basement wasn’t helping. All he had now was a small cot, a two burner hot plate, a table and a chair. He swore at the circumstances. How did they find out about his operations? The unit that cornered them was with the state police. It was only with the sheerest luck that he had been able to scramble to the laundry chute and pull himself up to the second floor using the rope he had managed to attach to a steam pipe. The SVR training he had received had saved his life. True, he had to continue with a backup crew, but he would be able to continue. At the same time, he would discreetly check on each of the men at the meeting. One of them must have betrayed him. He would find out which one, then take care of that business personally.

It wasn’t often you met a King. In this case it was for the second time. King William V had come aboard USS Iowa when she had led the round the world cruise after the Korean War. This time, the meeting was more business than pleasure. The King had a keen interest in the military and was very concerned about what nearly everyone knew was a coming war with Russia. He had urged his Prime Minister and military leaders to begin moving toward a war footing early on, but was concerned that it may be too late. Sitting in the meeting with the Prime Minister, he asked the most questions of all the people in the room.

Most of the questions they had were of his opinion on where the Allied cause should go and how they might accomplish their goals. More to the point, how would the United States respond? Although he had told them that he didn’t really know how far the United States would go, he did assure them that there would be a large response. Europe would not have to proceed alone. Hammond also shared his ideas on using every technology each nation possessed to suppress the enemy. He shared several technologies the United States was working on and was surprised to hear of several in Great Britain itself. He urged the sharing of information and manufacturing so that they could be exploited to the fullest. As the conference wound down it became obvious that Hammond needed to make a sort of closing statement.

“Your Majesty, Prime Minister, I appreciate your asking me to come and share my views concerning the possible conflict in Europe. As my President has said, this is a cause which involves all of us — not just Poland or Germany, but every European nation. Each of us brings a unique part and portion to the battlefield, whether it is in armor, people, materials or technology. We all have our own unique warfare style and history. That is no more felt than the history of this great nation and island. My own family history started right here outside London. All my life I have studied the military tactics and exploits of English leaders. It is the richest of any nation. So what you bring cannot be measured. The United States, by comparison, has only been around for a relatively few years, but few understand that our history is also your history. We too have proven ourselves on the field of battle and the ties between us are unbroken.

“In the coming days we shall come together again. We shall join nations large and small, but join them we will. In my NATO role, I hope to be a small part of this immense operation. It will be a daunting task, since we are outnumbered by a large margin. But remember, we have been outnumbered many times before. The Spanish Armada was far larger than any English force. Nelson found himself rushing in against the odds. In the Pacific, we both were on the losing side before Midway. Even the pundits thought we would lose that battle. But it wasn’t numbers that won the battles, it was strength of will. This is no different. If war comes, we shall win because we must do it. To do otherwise would be unthinkable. I truly look forward to working with each of you,” he said as he sat back in his seat.

For a long time no one spoke. Then the King stood and walked over to Hammond, taking his hand. “Admiral, you make us all proud to be a part of this. Thank you for sharing time with us today,” he said warmly.

“My pleasure, Your Majesty,” Hammond said softly.

Prime Minister, would you be so kind as to accompany me for a moment?” the King asked. The Prime Minister nodded, “Of course, Your Majesty.” The two left the room via a separate door as the others in the room gathered round to shake Hammond’s hand before leaving. Sir Richard was the last. “Bloody hell,” he expounded. “You certainly know how to stir the loins. I felt like I would pop down to Portsmouth and get underway. Heaven help the Russians,” he boasted as he shook Hammond’s hand. “Come on, let’s stop by a pub on the way. I feel like a good wet.”

***

In the corridor the King stopped and looked at Nicholson with a questioning face. “What is your opinion?” he asked.

Prime Minister Nicholson took a deep breath. “Your Majesty, if we put any European officer in charge, the same old bickering and squabbling will occur. From what Sir Richard tells me, that man even got the French to agree with him. We both know he is brilliant and he has demonstrated that he has the tact and patience to get the job done. I believe that, once again, we need an American to spearhead this effort,” he said.

“I agree. Did you notice he even had a grasp of ground warfare? I believe he listens a lot. That tells me he’s not just a seagoing officer,” said the King.

“Indeed, it is clear that President O’Bannon thinks highly of him, but he is careful not to push it to us. He is letting us make up our own minds,” said Nicholson. “At least I am convinced.”

The King chuckled. “You know, when we met him six years ago, I could tell there was something about the man. It appears he has our support as well.”

“Then I shall contact the President straight away and let him know of our desires,” Nicholson said.

“I understand the President believes him one of his best personal friends. I may wager that it will be the same over here as well,” the King said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Be careful, Your Majesty. His wife is a rising star in their political system. We may have to find ways of working with both,” Nicholson said with a grin.

***

Sir Richard and Hammond made their way out the room and down the most ornate hallway Hammond had ever seen. Exiting at the side of the palace, they entered Sir Richard’s Bentley. Ten minutes later the two men stepped into the Albert Pub on Victoria Street. Several military men in uniform were there. Almost immediately the two were called over to join them. One pint became two. After a meal upstairs, the two men returned for one last drink before reentering the Bentley for the drive back to Sir Richard’s townhome. Hammond had never experienced a night like this before. The mixture of uniforms, comradery and honor in the ranks left him with a much better understanding of how the British military thought and worked. It made him feel much better about their chances.

Once the men returned to Sir Richard’s flat, Hammond brought over a large three ringed binder. “Do me a favor, Sir Richard. Take a look at this and tell me what you think. When I come back from Germany, maybe we can discuss it.”

Sir Richard eyed the binder, then opened it to the first page, glancing at the title. He gave a surprised look. “Some ideas you have?” he asked.

“A few. It may be nothing, but I’d appreciate your thoughts.”

“Then I shall devote some time to it,” Sir Richard said as he placed it under his arm. He stopped at a decanter in the study and poured himself a glass. “You have a long day tomorrow, and it’s late. I’ll come down and join you at breakfast,” he stated.

“Fine. Good night, Sir Richard,” said Hammond as he made his way to the stairs.

Sir Richard watched him go, then reopened the binder. He sat in his favorite chair and began to read. After a few minutes his forehead began to furl and his eyes focused in on the pages. He took another sip from his glass. “Bloody hell!” he muttered aloud.

“Don’t feed me that line!” Bolin screamed at Kursov. They were in a small brightly lit room with another officer and a line of microphones and cameras. Kursov was sitting at a plain table while the others stared down at him. “I have photos of you at those demonstrations. I have photos of you with a known Russian agent! Telling me you know nothing insults my intelligence and I know it will insult a jury. I shall give you one chance. Just one! You cooperate and tell us everything or I will see to it that you are convicted and then publicly hanged as a traitor. And I will see to it that you hang in front of your family and friends. That means no matter what, they will be the ones to pay the ultimate price for your actions. Is that what you want? To have your children branded for life as the son or daughter of a traitor? Answer me. Is that what you want?”

The interrogation had already lasted four hours. Kursov had thought he could withstand such things, but the mention of his children suffering for his actions caused his shell to crack. Bolin saw it the moment it happened. Kursov’s face changed. His hands began to shake. Bolin knew to ease up. The tone of his voice softened. “Look, Kursov, I know you were born there and have some feelings for your mother country. But what you have done is placing all of us in danger, including your children. Do you really think the Russian army won’t come here with guns blazing? They won’t care who helped them or who is fighting them, they will simply plow through us like a tractor. Can you see your son Petyr or your daughter lying dead in what is left of your house after an artillery bombardment? Some things you simply cannot prevent. But in your case, you can. I need you to tell me everything. In return, you will be allowed to return home to your family. No one will know what has happened. Your sons and daughter will never know what you have done from me. They will still see their father as an upstanding member of the community. I will promise you that. So what shall it be?” he asked.

Kursov’s eyes began to water. He couldn’t bear for his wife or children to hate him or be ashamed of him. There was no other choice. He looked up at Bolin, “What do you want to know?”

Bolin nodded. So far all but three of the men had chosen to cooperate. They would all get the same promise, although there would be a few repercussions. Right now, they just needed the facts. If they were lucky, they might be able to do something constructive with this.

Jim Butler walked past the Secret Service agents and into the Oval Office. “You called, Boss?”

The President motioned him to a chair. “I just heard from the others. It’s unanimous. We need to get the Joint Chiefs over here. It’s time to decide on who will be doing what. I also heard from the Polish Prime Minister. It seems they captured some of the ringleaders for those violent demonstrations over there. A Russian agent was leading them.”

Butler looked up. “That’s interesting. Did they get him or her to talk?”

O’Bannon shook his head. “They lost him. Got away right under their noses, but with the search they are conducting, I doubt he will get far,” the President said.

“If this does blow up, this is evidence of a conspiracy and premeditated actions. A war crimes trial will love it,” said Butler.

“I agree, but right now we need to get our forces on high alert. How about calling a meeting for this afternoon. I want to take us up to DEFCON 2. Then I need recommendations on how we get ready beyond this point. Tell them to come ready to rumble,” the President said.

Butler got up from his seat. “I’ll make it happen. I hope no one squawks much on the choice.”

O’Bannon grinned. “If it comes to that, we can honestly tell them it didn’t come from this office. It seems all of Europe wants him.”

“The Americans have heightened their alert status,” announced the briefer at the military summit in Moscow. “We are noticing that they have gotten some of their carriers out to sea. There are more patrols and some of their army troops are doing more exercises. But most of those are still in the United States. There haven’t been any big ship movements to bring troops and equipment to Europe. The only thing we have seen leaving the United States were Korean automobiles headed for France. They arrived yesterday. We anticipate a few thousand more new cars on the roads, but that is nothing we need to concern ourselves about. All of our fleet assets are ready. Our submarine force is all underway and our line of missile ships has arrived on station. Our air force units are staging now. They will move to the forward bases immediately upon the start of hostilities. Army units are concealed along this line here,” the briefer said pointing to several positions on the map. “They are fully fueled and equipped. At zero hour they will move across the border as rapidly as possible. Artillery positioned with the units will bombard positions in front of the advance and move up each day to match the advance. Air units will pound further ahead to prepare for the advance, but nothing will go until zero hour,” he said.

“You are certain that we have successfully hidden our assets so that the allies cannot be forewarned?” asked Borodin. “Everything depends on surprise.”

“Yes, President Borodin. We have placed decoy units well behind the lines so that any snooping will see them and not the real advance,” the briefer said.

“Good. When will the last riot occur in Poland?” asked Borodin.

“Two days before, Comrade President,” said General Pusko. “Our agent there has done a magnificent job of unsettling the population. I understand he was nearly captured at one time, but managed to escape and continue his mission. After this event, he will change his efforts to help our ground troops,” Pusko said.

“Excellent. So we are in all respects ready to make our moves?” Borodin asked.

“There is one other thing,” said Admiral Sovolov, the Commander of the Naval Forces. “With your approval, we need to change our initial attack just slightly from the original plan,” he said.

Borodin eyed the man with a frown. He didn’t like changing a plan, especially at this late a date. “Tell me what you recommend,” he said.

“I believe we have covered all the major assets of their fleet except for one thing. We allotted three missiles for each of their battleships. For any normal ship, this would be more than sufficient, however, my staff is urging that we increase this coverage to at least five missiles,” he said.

“Five Missiles!” Borodin exclaimed. That would mean an expenditure of thirty five missiles. What reason do they use?”

“Comrade President, these are the most heavily armored ships in the world. On one class alone the steel is more than seventeen inches thick. If you recall during the Korean War one of those ships was hit by three of these type missiles. Not only did the ship survive, but it went in and destroyed the missile battery that fired at them. I have been told that there was not one loss of life. Even our honored Admiral Gorshkov made a statement to the Americans that, and I quote, ‘You do not realize what formidable warships you have in these battleships. We have concluded after careful analysis that these magnificent vessels are in fact the most to be feared in your entire naval arsenal. When engaged in combat we could throw everything we have at those ships and all our firepower would just bounce off or be of little effect. When we are exhausted, we will detect you coming over the horizon and then you will sink us,’ unquote. We re-opened that study and it still holds true. Our best bet is to hurt them as much as we can to delay their deployment and then sink them with our submarines. That is why we ask for the increase in missiles. If we can so damage their upper works, they may be delayed long enough that we will have completed our objectives. In which case, their usefulness will be negated,” Sovolov said.

Borodin thought about that one. He concerned himself with ground wars and not as much as what may happen at sea. But he too had heard about the use of the American battleships. After a moment of thought he nodded at Sovolov. “Admiral, you and your staff are correct in being cautious. Will this hamper our other attacks?”

Sovolov smiled. “Not at all. We had built in a contingency of more weapons just for this purpose. Everything else will go as planned.”

“Then it is approved. We must do whatever we can to make sure the Americans cannot respond. That will leave our troops free to complete the task rapidly. That is the key. The quicker we can take Europe, the better off the Russian people shall be,” he pontificated. “Now what other items must we discuss?”

The meeting lasted just ten more minutes. When the men left, all were glad to get things underway.