Raise the Red Dawn

Chapter Fourteen

Winestock summed it up. “We’ve definitely got a situation up there, Mr. President. It’s up to you to decide how far we go with it.”

Brendon Connors didn’t like being woken up in the middle of the night with bad news. And padding around the Oval Office in pajamas, robe, and slippers made him feel less like the second-term president of the United States than some character out of “Father Knows Best.”

“How did this happen, Arthur? You told me the operation was cut and dried.”

Winestock looked pained. “It’s Solkov, sir.”

“The defense minister? What’s he got to do with this?”

“We believe he’s making a run at the chairmanship. With Abrikov’s backing. They’ve been damn smart. The general secretary is in a bind. The army isn’t in love with him in the first place, and they’ve set him up to look like a weak sister if he lets the U.S. take Soviet technology without a fight. It was Solkov and Abrikov who took the muzzle off the Akula. We have reliable information they went right over Korodin’s head after he called in the Ural.”

“This will not do, Arthur. That bastard Solkov hates us.”

“He’s a relic. Just like Abrikov. The last of the cold warriors. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you get a START treaty out of them.”

Connors fixed Winestock with a gaze that had stared down political opponents and TV cameras for forty years. “But better for you. What would happen to the Agency in a peaceful world?”

“Sir, the day the last spy retires will be the happiest day of my life.”

It was said with simple sincerity, and Connors felt he had heard the truth. “Go on, then. Paint me a scenario.”

Winestock ticked off points on his fingers. “The attack by Akula has led to the loss of American lives and the destruction of American property. The Soviets could probably make the same claim.”

“We could withdraw. We don’t need irinium that badly.”

“That’s arguable. What was our edge worth when we had transistors and they didn’t, or integrated circuits or computer chips? It’s as big as that.”

“What’s the alternative, bring in the big guns?”

Winestock sighed. “Ten years ago, even a year ago, that would have been the answer. But now?” He shrugged. “I think we have to keep this strictly local. Win or lose. Right now there’s a pretty good balance of forces. If MacKenzie can pull it off and we come out on top, okay. We take the irinium and return the sub, but at least the general secretary has put up a fight. If we lose, the general secretary looks just fine to the conservative hard-liners and politics stays pretty much on track. We’ll keep trying to get the irinium some other way.”

“What about our people up there?”

“Unfortunately, they’re on their own, sir. With Akula gunning for them. But if we bring in one more warship the general secretary won’t be able to stop Solkov from bringing in two, and then we’ll have to bring in three and the fighters, and then we’re back on the same goddamn merry-go-round that got us here in the first place.”

“I don’t like this. I know MacKenzie.”

“And you’ll like it even less if the press finds out you’ve abandoned him. They’ll fry your hide. Sir. But are you willing to risk starting a bigger conflict that might screw up our relations with the Soviets? At this point?”

“No,” Connors said firmly. “I’m not willing to risk that. All right, if you’re sure this is the way.”

Winestock shrugged. “Sure? I haven’t been really sure of anything since grade school. No crystal ball, sir. Just a best guess. We can’t let Solkov come to power.”

“What will MacKenzie’s orders be?”

“Raise the Red Dawn. Any way he can. Engage and destroy Akula if he has to.”

“Very well. The general secretary’s still in Paris?”

“We can reach him at the embassy.”

Connors looked out at the lights of the city. “It looks as if they’re on their own up there,” he said finally, reaching for the phone.

KGB Chief Abrikov swept past Solkov’s bank of aides and into his office. Solkov was at his desk, not working, just staring out the window.

“What is so important I had to rush over here?” Abrikov demanded. “I have enough cryptic messages from my spies, Sergei. I don’t need any more.”

Solkov spun around in his chair and pointed to a small korobka on his desk, the kind children kept chess sets in for transport back and forth from school clubs. “This just arrived. Look inside. Damn it, Agi, I told you we were underestimating him.”

Abrikov took the little box and turned it over in his hands. Under closer scrutiny it was no ordinary korobka. It was constructed of many different woods all laced together in an intricate pattern as subtle as the grain itself. He opened it. There were only five pieces inside, a black king and a white one, a black knight and a white knight… and a red crystal pawn. It took a moment for the significance to sink in, and then he smiled in understanding. The old fox might be way the hell out on a limb with his reforms, and he had certainly shaken the country and maybe even the whole damn world to the roots, but he had lost none of his subtlety. It was a trait Abrikov admired above all others, but of course the general secretary knew that, too.

“It’s a message,” he said to Solkov.

“What does it mean?”

Abrikov smiled. “It’s quite simple, really, Sergei. He’s setting terms and conditions. He’s telling us he knows all about Red Dawn. That’s the red pawn. By choosing a pawn he’s letting us know he knows it isn’t the real prize of the game. The knights are the submarines Akula and Seawolf. By this he lets us know he is aware that we and not Korodin are controlling Kalik. Finally, he sends the kings, the ultimate prize. We are one king and he is the other, or more accurately, he knows we’re after him. There are no other pieces because the conflict is to be limited to what is already in place.” Abrikov said admiringly, “You’ve got to admit Sergei, the man has style.”

“How can his knight be an American submarine?”

“Think of it philosophically, Agi. In the final analysis what are warships but physical manifestations of government ideology? If Seawolf wins the day, we lose the irinium technology but we continue to move closer to the Americans — becoming weaker, you and I would say, but that’s the issue. The general secretary can always say he sent in the subs and Korodin sent in the Ural and it was too bad we lost, but he’ll wave some new grain treaty and ask who really wants to risk another cold war with the Americans. On the other hand, if by unleashing Captain Kalik we enable Akula to win the day, we will have clearly outmaneuvered the general secretary, the proof of which will be that we retain sole possession of the irinium and force the Americans to back down. This will demonstrate that our policies are the stronger.”

“And if not?”

“To complete the metaphor, we are mated and must resign.” A truly ingenious way to send his message, Abrikov thought. Worthy of a grand master.

Solkov thought it over. “So it all rests on what happens up at the pole?”

The chess pieces were smooth in Abrikov’s gnarled hands. “It always has, Sergei,” he said softly. “It always has.”