Fatal Thunder

12 PLAN B

Dhankhar had been in the yard since before five, pressing Mitra for anything that could speed Chakra’s sailing. The captain was competent enough, coping as well as could be expected with the sudden schedule change after the Kashmir incident. But Dhankhar and the Vajra plan were now on borrowed time. Fighting rising impatience, he chivvied and haggled with Mitra for ways to shave even minutes off the scheduled sailing time, regulations be damned. Chakra, with the weapons aboard, had to sail before the authorities arrived and put an end to everything.

The instant he’d learned of the Americans’ briefing to the president, he knew it was only a matter of time before the government would act to seize the weapons and arrest everyone they could find. It was possible that he and some of the other members might be under surveillance, but given the warning he received last night from the deputy director of the premier law enforcement agency, that was unlikely, at least for now. His saving grace would be the bureaucratic inertia that was part and parcel of any Indian government agency. This “friction” would be exacerbated by discreet actions by other members; nonetheless, he couldn’t count on that to give him more than a few hours. But for the moment, he was free to act.

A small voice had urged him to flee, or go into hiding to avoid arrest and imprisonment. But his disappearance would doom Vajra. That was unthinkable. After Chakra sailed, he’d go to a safe place, but not before.

Like the others, he had received the “execute” order late last night. But the majority of the Vajra members were unaware of the complete collapse in security. The four councilmen thought it a wiser course of action to use this deception; the prearranged actions for the execute order would initiate the elimination of any trace of the operation, without the risk of some of the members panicking.

If some of the conspirators were indeed under surveillance, then ignorance would prevent them from acting unwisely. Fear might make one of the group change his habits, or possibly bolt. Dhankhar didn’t want to consider the possibility of one of them betraying the rest by running to the authorities.

And they still had a chance. The Americans had only warned his government about the attack on the Chinese ports. Chakra’s crucial role was only the first act of a much bigger plan. The army was readying itself for a spring offensive in the event that the peace talks were unsuccessful. This was a reasonable strategy, and expected. The likely date for that was still a few weeks off, but stockpiles of ammunition and fuel had been built up throughout the winter months. The Pakistanis wouldn’t expect an early offensive in less-than-optimal weather.

Everything Dhankhar and his cohorts knew said China was on the brink of economic and social collapse. The sudden destruction of China’s five largest port cities would wreak havoc throughout the country. Chakra’s attack would push them over the edge.

Officers that were part of Dhankhar’s group would send orders launching a surprise offensive, well before the Pakistanis expected it and now without their Chinese protectors. No Chinese AWACS aircraft flying just over the border, warning of Indian aircraft. No more ordnance or spares for the Chinese-made Pakistani fighters. India would have air superiority.

No threat of Chinese troops tying up valuable units on the flanks of the fighting. They’d need every soldier they could to keep order in the cities. That would free up fresh troops.

Because key people in the Indian armed forces were ready for Vajra, they’d be able to take advantage of the kind of shock and surprise that had been unintentionally displayed in Kashmir. He expected Indian troops to break through the Pakistani’s static defenses and into the rear within hours.

And again because of the Kashmir explosion, and thanks to the Americans, the nuclear weapons could not be directly linked to India. Yes, the Americans knew, but they undoubtedly wouldn’t say anything to China out of a fear of causing even greater casualties — they’d take the lesser of the two evils. Would the Indian government, when presented with a fait accompli, pass up the chance to end the Pakistani threat once and for all? India had gone to war with that goal, and that victory would be his vindication and redemption.

Dhankhar finally convinced himself that Mitra was doing all he could, and headed for the torpedo shop. He realized he’d been stalling, remaining in Mitra’s office because he didn’t want to hear what the Russians would tell him. But that was irresponsible. Whatever the problem, he’d fix it somehow.

They’d worked through the night. Dhankhar was pleasantly surprised; he’d half expected to find the place deserted, the Russians fled to gods knew where. But the lure of the money had been too great.

The door to the weapons vault was open, and all five torpedoes were out. That gave Dhankhar a flash of hope, but then he could see that two of the weapons were still in pieces, their warhead sections exposed. Kirichenko and Orlav were bent over one of them. The Russians were obviously not done.

Kirichenko stopped work as Dhankhar came into the shop. He’d found a pair of coveralls, and with a rag stuffed in a back pocket, looked more like a car mechanic than a former admiral. Actually, he looked like a tired and worried mechanic, the kind that has to give his customers bad news.

“We’re not finished,” Kirichenko announced. “We can’t finish in time.” He sounded matter-of-fact, as if he was going to tell Dhankhar the engine block was cracked and couldn’t be repaired.

The Russian nodded toward three weapons neatly lined up near the door, resting in their cradles. “Those three are ready to be loaded. Final checks have been made.” He gestured toward Orlav, still working. “The fourth device is in place, and we should be able to finish it in time for loading, but the fifth still needs to be installed. There’s no way we can fit it, perform the necessary checks, assemble the complete weapon, and then make the rest of the checks.”

Kirichenko shrugged. “I can give you four weapons. That’s the best we can do.” Again the same matter-of-fact tone, but Kirichenko was trying to pretend this wasn’t a massive failure. It was clear he hoped Dhankhar would be satisfied with destroying four Chinese port cities.

“No. I want five,” Dhankhar replied firmly. “Six was the original agreement. Four might not be enough. Five will barely deliver the body blow we need.”

Kirichenko gestured helplessly. “I just told you. We can’t finish in time.”

“Actually,” Dhankhar replied, “we’ve moved the sailing time up. “Chakra leaves tonight.”

“What?” Kirichenko’s look of surprise almost made Dhankhar laugh. Then the Russian sighed, and rubbed his forehead. He was probably nursing a headache, not that Dhankhar cared. “Then there’s absolutely no time to even begin work on the fifth torpedo.”

“Then you can finish the work under way, after Chakra sails. Just get the last two weapons assembled. You can make the final connections and tests aboard the submarine.”

The Russian scratched his unshaven chin thoughtfully, then nodded. “All right. It means more of the crew will learn about the torpedoes,” he warned.

“That can’t be helped, and once Chakra sails, it won’t matter,” Dhankhar answered. “Jain and his men are up to the task.”

Kirichenko brightened as he considered the possibilities. “You’ve got good weapons for the first three ports. With the transit, that gives us at least a week and a half, perhaps two, to finish the work on the last two torpedoes. We could both get some rest and still have time to finish. It’s probably not a good idea to work nuclear weapons when you’re short on sleep. I’ll need you to put our payment into the account number I gave you before we leave, of course.”

Dhankhar shook his head. “Absolutely not!”

“But we were to be paid before Chakra sails. I need that money!” Kirichenko was almost whining.

“You were to be paid when you deliver five armed torpedoes.” Dhankhar tried not to sound too pleased. He found himself enjoying this. “I will tell Jain to send a message after the last weapon is launched and it is safe for him to transmit. Then, and only then, will I transfer the money to your account.”

Kirichenko gestured helplessly. “What? You think we won’t finish the work locked up on your submarine?”

“Were you going to use the money for something before you sailed?” replied Dhankhar. “There’s nothing to spend it on here at the base, and I don’t think you should go outside. Did I mention that the SVR knows all about your operation?”

“How?” Kirichenko was horrified.

“We know that part of a U.S. briefing given to the Indian government yesterday described a barge hidden off the coast of northern Russia, and your connection to it. Evidently the American and Russian governments have been working together.”

Dhankhar watched the Russian’s expression change from horror to fear, then something like resignation. “Fine. I must insist that we be paid today — in cash, preferably U.S. dollars.”

“That’s a lot of money, even if I wasn’t in a hurry. Why should I?”

By now, Orlav had stopped work and had come over to listen as well. Kirichenko explained, “If the SVR is now looking for me, there’s no guarantee that my offshore account is safe, or that my contacts are still trustworthy.”

He paused, then added, “And can you arrange to have Captain Jain put us ashore near some neutral port after he has accomplished his mission? I can’t go back to Russia, although that had been my intention.”

Dhankhar scowled. “Chakra can’t just pull into some Asian port and drop you two off. I’m sure you understand that it means surfacing and putting you — and your money — in a rubber raft and leaving you to make your own way to shore.”

“Of course,” Kirichenko answered, and looking over at Orlav, added, “Two rafts, please.”

“Different destinations, as well?” sighed Dhankhar. “All right. I’ll gather what cash I can, and Jain can hold on to it until he is satisfied. I’ll also instruct Jain to put you off the boat at locations that meet with his approval, in return for you both completing the work aboard Chakra.”

Both Russians nodded solemnly, and then Kirichenko stood up a little straighter. “Right, then. We’ll get these two torpedoes assembled and then get organized. When do we board?”

“Chakra will sail at twenty-one hundred hours tonight. Be ready to bring the weapons aboard at eighteen hundred.”

“Understood. We will be ready.”

Energized, the two quickly turned toward the workbench, but Dhankhar called after them. “Kirichenko, Orlav. If this were a movie, I’d order Jain to shoot you both the moment the mission was accomplished. I’m an honorable man, and I intend to keep my part of the bargain, but if there is any trouble, remember that Jain always has that option.”

The situation room could hold twenty people comfortably. Patterson had seen thirty squeezed in, once, and nobody used their elbows or breathed deeply. It was just over half full now, with literally every person in the U.S. government who was aware of the Indian nuclear conspiracy.

The newest member of that elite group was preparing to brief the rest. Satisfied that his tablet and the screen were properly linked, he nodded nervously to Patterson and stepped behind the podium.

Patterson rose and the quiet conversation around the table stopped instantly. Her summons had been urgent. Nodding toward the briefer, she began, “Dr. Stan Tomasz is the senior economic analyst at the China desk in the State Department. In response to the president’s question about the threat to China the Indian plot represented, I asked Stan — Dr. Tomasz, to estimate the consequences if the Indian conspirators are successful.”

She started to sit down, but stopped, straightened, and added, “I should mention that Dr. Tomasz has been studying the Chinese economy since well before the Littoral Alliance war, and during the war gave me frequent updates on its health, or lack thereof. When he told me of his findings last night, I immediately informed the president, and he told me to organize this briefing.” She quickly sat down.

Dr. Tomasz was in his thirties, and fighting a losing battle with his hairline and midsection. Perhaps in compensation, he wore a neatly trimmed beard, which gave him a professorial appearance. He looked apprehensive, and tired.

He tapped a button on his tablet, and the flat-screen display behind him came to life. The title, “Chinese Economic Estimate,” was deliberately vague, but the security markings said much more: “This briefing contains sensitive information and is classified Top Secret/Sensitive Compartmented Information.”

“Dr. Patterson asked me to estimate the effects of five 150-kiloton nuclear weapons being detonated in major Chinese port cities. She gave me a list of ten cities that were potential targets.”

He tapped his tablet and the screen changed to show a map of China, the coast dotted with small red disks. “These are the cities on the list she provided, and all are major ports with large civilian populations.”

He gestured with a laser pointer, pointing out cities one after the other. “Hong Kong is a major economic center with a population over seven million people and nine separate harbors. Shanghai’s population is over twenty-four million; it is also a major financial center, as well as the world’s number-one container port with two large terminal facilities. Even smaller ports, like Ningbo or Xiamen, house over three million souls and are important shipping centers.”

The image zoomed to show a close-up of Shanghai, sitting on the easternmost part of China’s coast. Taiwan lay to the south, Japan directly east, and Korea to the northeast. It was easy to see why it was the world’s busiest container port, the two large terminal facilities highlighted on the map. Tomasz shined his laser pointer on the seaward facility. Hangzhou Bay faced east, with the city on the northern side.

He waved the laser along a long structure that led to a pair of islands near the mouth of the bay. “Shanghai is a complex target set as the two facilities are far apart. The first, Yangshan Container Terminal, is built on two small islands and is connected to the mainland by the Donghai Bridge, which is just over twenty miles long. The Yangshan terminal moved just over twelve million twenty-foot equivalent units or TEUs last year.”

He turned away from the harbor map to face his audience. “I consulted with CIA’s subject matter experts about the effects of the weapons Dr. Patterson described. The most destructive way to use a torpedo with a 150-kiloton yield would be to set it shallow, so the detonation would be a surface burst.” He pressed the tablet, and circles appeared, centered on a point just off the terminal.

“Yangshan’s a deep-water port, so the torpedo could be sent well in, close to the islands the terminal was built on. This inner circle” — he pointed to a red circle that neatly surrounded the entire terminal — “is twelve kilometers in diameter, and represents the distance at which the blast would cause near-total destruction. This is only the initial effect. The damage from fires and secondary causes would likely finish off anything the blast left standing. Note the large petroleum refinery and storage facility to the east. This site was damaged during the Sino — Littoral Alliance War; a nuclear blast at the Yangshan terminal would level it.” He pointed to orange and yellow circles farther out. “These represent the radii for moderate and light damage.” While they extended much farther, neither reached the shoreline.

“The second port facility is the Waigaoqiao Free Trade Zone on the south bank of the Yangtze River, and it is home to four container terminals. Unlike Yangshan, the Waigaoqiao facility is harder to reach, as it is twenty-four nautical miles upstream. However, based on the estimated weapon’s characteristics, a nuclear-armed torpedo could theoretically reach this facility. A blast here would be more damaging.”

Tomasz’s next slide showed a lot of Shanghai proper within the twelve-kilometer-diameter destruction circle. “Civilian casualties would be on the order of a quarter of a million dead, and infrastructure damage would reach six to seven kilometers inland. Please note the Jiangnan Shipyard on Changxing Island, across the Yangtze’s southern fork, is within this radius. The Jiangnan Shipyard is a major provider of modern warships to the PLAN as well as large civilian merchant ships.

“Between the Yangshan and Waigaoqiao port facilities, China moved about twenty million TEUs last year. Before the war, that number was just over thirty-four million. But considering the distances involved, the Indians would have to use two torpedoes to achieve the desired damage. Next, let’s look at Hong Kong.” Tomasz changed the screen and a new map appeared.

Victoria Harbor, the main port, lay between Kowloon to the north and Hong Kong Island to the south. He pressed his tablet and the same three circles reappeared. This time the red circle not only included the entire harbor, but extended well inland on both Kowloon and Hong Kong Island, including a large part of the downtown area.

“Everyone knows about how densely people are packed in over there. We estimate, with a fair degree of confidence, that about three hundred and fifty thousand people would be killed immediately, with almost another million injured.”

Tomasz returned to the podium and checked his notes. “We don’t know which ports are the actual targets. Assuming they’re moderately competent, they’ve studied every name on the list, and then chosen, based on whatever their criteria were, and in fact, the others remain alternates if a primary target cannot be attacked.” He looked over at Patterson, who was nodding. Geisler, the Secretary of Defense, also nodded approvingly.

“The two cities I showed you in detail are almost certainly on the target list, and we’ve run through different combinations of the others to create a range of results.” He brought up a slide titled “Possible Combinations,” but Patterson caught his eye.

“Just bring up the summary, please.”

Tomasz nodded and quickly tapped the screen several times. Maps and tables flashed on the screen until he reached the summary page. The figures were stark, and almost everyone reacted with shock or disbelief. Patterson explained, “These are actually the refined results, based on guidance that I gave Dr. Tomasz last night.”

“Anywhere between two and a quarter to four and a half million souls killed, and three times that injured,” Tomasz remarked, reading the slide. “One bomb would be a catastrophe. Five would be apocalyptic. We did not calculate the effects of the fallout, tidal surges, or electromagnetic pulse both because of time constraints, and because, frankly, these initial effects are bad enough.”

The economist explained, “The human cost and physical destruction are first-order effects. I needed these before I could begin my analysis of the true impact to China.”

The next slide was titled “Economic Impact.” He spoke confidently, explaining the figures. “China’s gross domestic product was already suffering, down from seven point three trillion before the war to six point five last year. That doesn’t sound like a lot, but to an economist, that’s a strong recession and flirting with a depression. Foreign trade, exporting the manufactured goods the Chinese need to support their growing economy, was especially hard-hit. At a minimum, the destructive effects of the attack would knock at least a full trillion off of that, and probably closer to two trillion.

“That’s not just a depression. A trillion gets you a nice, solid depression, no question. But two trillion is real money. Not only would many, maybe most industries shut down, but the transportation and agricultural sectors, even basic government services, would be crippled as well. And that doesn’t include the extraordinary burden of emergency relief. A lot of people will need medical care, food, water, and shelter for a considerable period of time.”

He pressed a control and the screen shifted again, showing a map of the world with arrows linking China with the rest of the world. It was a simple enough diagram — the fatter the arrows, the more trade between the two nations.

“This graphic shows prewar trade levels.” The fattest arrows were between China and the U.S., and China and the European Union. He pressed the tablet and the graphic shifted. All the arrows shrank; the ones to Asian nations almost disappeared. “This is postwar. Some of this is political, for example Vietnam’s embargo, but most is due to China’s reduced consumption and its reduced ability to provide goods for sale.”

The screen changed again, with most arrows disappearing, and the remaining ones shrinking to mere threads. “And this is my estimate of the results of the Indian attack. China’s exports drop to about fifteen percent of last year, while her need for all kinds of imports would grow substantially. Unfortunately, she likely doesn’t have the cash reserves to pay for this increased need, let alone tackling the relief efforts.

“We’re almost certain that her reserves were virtually eliminated during the Littoral Alliance war. She’s got nothing to buy with.”

Since Patterson had seen this before, she watched the president and the others. Their horrified expressions told her they understood not only the staggering cost in human life, but the impact this would have on the world economy. The U.S. was already suffering a mild recession, partly from direct effects of their trade with China, but aggravated by the more severe economic problems Japan and the other Asian nations were suffering.

Tomasz let them absorb the data for a few moments before adding, “This slide makes several assumptions that are out of my jurisdiction. Most relate to economic behavior and would change the overall values by five or ten percent. But the biggest variable, and one I can’t predict, is the stability of the Chinese government and the maintenance of social order.”

“A revolution,” Secretary Lloyd remarked grimly.

“Anarchy,” Tomasz responded. “A weak, discredited central government without the ability to rule; in essence, a failed state. Assuming a near-complete breakdown of authority and essential services, which will limit the ability of the Chinese Army to maintain order, chaos and massive civil unrest would almost certainly occur.”

“You could have several revolutions,” Myles added. “Tibet. The Uyghurs.”

“And what happens when North Korea can’t get its food from China anymore?”

Tomasz shrugged. “It’s impossible to separate economics and politics, but I’ve learned the dangers of trying to predict events based on economic forecasts. I will say this: Based on this forecast, the Chinese would be lucky if they only suffered a severe depression, and the effects of that would be felt worldwide, including here. Just as the 1929 New York stock market crash triggered the Great Depression, China could drag the rest of the world down with it.”

“We’re too tightly connected, these days,” Myles agreed. “Knock China down and we’ll all fall over. What about India?”

“Economically, she’d be hurt as well. She doesn’t have much trade with China these days, but she does with other countries that will be affected. It’s a downward spiral for everyone.”

“India’s economic condition after the attack won’t matter,” Defense Secretary Geisler countered. “If China finds out who did this to them, they’ll retaliate with their own nuclear weapons, and India will in turn shoot back. If that submarine launches those torpedoes, we’ll have the first general nuclear exchange between the world’s two largest and oldest nations.”

“What’s worse than an apocalypse?” Myles asked to nobody in particular. He then continued, “Thank you, Dr. Tomasz and Dr. Patterson. I am declaring that stopping this attack is in the vital interests of the United States.” He took the time to look directly at Lloyd, Geisler, and Greg Alexander, Director of National Intelligence.

“Do we warn the Chinese?” Lloyd asked.

After a moment’s pause, Myles replied. “Not yet. I can imagine the Chinese reacting in many different ways, all of them bad, and any hope of working with the Indians would be gone forever. As long as that sub hasn’t sailed, it’s only a plot, and the Indians should be able to deal with it themselves. That would look better to China, when the word does get out. But SECDEF,” he turned to face Geisler, “start moving anything that would help toward the area, just in case.”

Jain wondered if this was some sort of test, intended to find out exactly how much stress he could take. He’d considered asking Mitra, but the captain either was a very good actor or, for reasons still unexplained, was serious about having Chakra leave tonight.

Everyone else in the shipyard took it seriously. Workers were feverishly preparing the submarine for departure. The reactor was critical and the last checks in the engine room were being completed, and Mitra had assured him that two tugs would be standing by at 2100 to get him under way. Trucks with stores and foodstuffs were stacked five deep on the pier, and working parties from all over the yard had been drafted into getting the provisions aboard. In fact, supplies were coming aboard so quickly that his crew did not have time to store them properly.

And now this. In the midst of that chaos, five more torpedoes had arrived to be loaded, accompanied by two Russian civilians bearing a letter from Admiral Dhankhar. Chakra’s torpedomen had been helping the rest of the crew, and he’d had to pull them off working parties to rig the loading tray.

While Lieutenant Commander Rakash, his first officer, supervised the loading, Jain read the admiral’s letter, then read it again. No information, just more confusion. “Treat your two visitors as VIPs, and come see me immediately.”

At least there was no problem finding berths for them. Two of his officers and eight of the crew were off the boat, scheduled to return in time for the boat’s originally planned sailing tomorrow.

But what were they going to do? “Weapons specialists” did not tell him anything useful, although it was obviously connected with Chakra’s sudden sailing.

Saluting the naval ensign at the fantail, Jain crossed the brow from the boat onto the pier. The warm evening was filled with the voices and the sounds of machinery, and Jain had to thread his way past sailors and yard workers and stacked boxes.

He saw his first officer near the bow. Rakash was acting as the safety observer as the torpedoes were winched over and lowered onto a horizontal tray that would guide them into the sub’s torpedo room.

Rakash turned and saluted as Jain approached. “Everything’s going smoothly here, sir. We should be done in about half an hour.”

Jain forced himself to smile casually and returned the salute. “That’s good to hear, Number One. If there’s any part of this bedlam that should not dissolve into madness, it’s loading those torpedoes.”

Jain gestured down the pier. “I’m off then to see the admiral. Hopefully I’ll find out what this is all about.”

Rakash said, “The latest rumor, thanks to the arrival of those two Russian riders, is that we’re bound for Russia to get a secret weapon to use against Pakistan.”

“Replacing the one about the Pakistani spy that supposedly sabotaged the dry dock?” Jain shook his head.

The first officer shrugged, then nodded sagely. “I personally prefer the one about the secret Pakistani naval base best.”

“I almost hoped that one was true,” Jain replied. Taking a deep breath, he ordered, “Whip her into shape, Number One, and I’ll be back, hopefully with our orders.”

Jain strode quickly off into the darkness.