It was a standard presidential motorcade. A District of Columbia police cruiser ran point, its flaring light bar clearing a path through the pre-rush-hour traffic flow on New York Avenue. Then came the three identical black Lincoln limousines. Two transported only Secret Service cadre. The third, the “carrier,” was positioned randomly in line with the others. A tan Ford Explorer with the heavy-weapons team followed, and another D.C. cruiser brought up the rear.
Inside the president’s vehicle, Benton Childress’s press secretary shook his head and commented from one of the rearward-facing jump seats. “The Alliance of American Educators isn’t going to be to pleased with your address today, sir.”
“Unpleasant realities are something that we all have to live with, Brian,” Childress replied, perusing his speaker’s notes again. “One of them is that everyone, no matter how noble their cause, is going to have to learn to live with a budget. This government is just beginning to regain a degree of fiscal responsibility. My administration is not going to be taking any backward steps on that path. People had better get used to it.”
“You do enjoy doing things the hard way, Mr. President.”
One of the car phones on the forward divider shrilled. The Secret Service team leader who had been riding in the other shotgun seat took the call. He listened for a moment, then held the handset out to Childress. “It’s the National Security Adviser, sir, from the Pentagon.”
Childress took the phone. “Yes, Sam.”
Sam Hanson’s voice was level, controlled, and totally emotionless, the voice of a thirty-year professional warrior addressing a superior officer. “Mr. President. You are needed in the War Room immediately, sir.”
Childress didn’t even consider asking questions.
“I’m on my way.”
He handed the phone back to the Secret Service man.
“We’re diverting to the Pentagon. Let’s move.” No questions were asked there either. The Secret Service man keyed his radio, issuing orders. At the head and tail of the column, the sirens of the police cruisers began to warble and the motorcade turned south, heading for the Arlington Memorial Bridge.
The Pentagon was commissioned in 1942 as the world’s largest office complex. At the time there was some debate over what was to be done with it following the demands of the Second World War, it being held as inconceivable that such a vast facility would be required by a nation at peace.
In reality, the Pentagon was saturated within five years of its becoming operational in 1945. Expansion had been required, and the only direction to go had been down.
Several annexes, command-and-control facilities, and operations centers had been built into its understructure over the years. The current War Room had at one time been an underground parking garage. Now it was the place where the blood decisions were made.
President Childress had been here often enough before, but now there was an added charge in the air, like the first eddy of a summer thunderstorm rolling in. Looking down from the glass-walled over watch balcony, he could see the duty crew at their ranked workstations. They were moving with a focused intentness, and there was a tension in the voices that intermittently issued from the balcony intercoms Sam Hanson was there, as was an angular, graying Air Force four-star, General Morrell Landry, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. At the moment, the General was leaning in over a communications console, speaking into a telephone handset.
Childress’s security adviser turned to greet his commander in chief. “Sorry to disrupt your day, Mr. President, but it looks like we have a major problem developing out in China.”
“Beyond what we already have?”
“A geometric escalation, sir. Shit plus has just hit the fan.”
“What’s happened?”
“One of our stealth destroyers was on a recon probe outside of Shanghai when they ran into a covert Red Chinese naval operation. A major live-fire incident has ensued. At this time, we are reporting no casualties on our side and a full briefing is being prepared for you on the event. However, to cut to the chase, we have learned that the Reds have sortied a fleet ballistic-missile submarine. Intentions and destination unknown.”
“And we are to presume that this is an unusual event?”
Hanson nodded. “This is the first boomer sailing that they’ve had in over a year. It’s also apparently taken place under extreme security. Given the current situation in China, we can’t afford to see this as being a coincidence.”
Childress’s breath trickled from between his lips in a whispered sigh. He sank down into one of the padded observation seats that looked out across the warroom.
“All right,” he said. “Is there any chance at all that we could be reading this wrong? That this could be some kind of routine evolution?”
Hanson shook his head. “Everyone has been running projections on the China crisis, CIA, DIA, NSA, RAND, everyone. And, for once, everyone is in agreement. They are all stating in no uncertain terms that the Communists are losing the war. Their backs are to the wall and the only option they might have left is to use the bomb … soon.
“God Almighty.” It wasn’t a profanity. It was a prayer.
The Security Adviser relentlessly pushed the point home.
“Mr. President, Red China’s reactivation of a major nuclear strike system at this time can have only one meaning.”
President Childress shook off the effect. “Where’s the Secretary of Defense?”
“Still at the Advanced Joint Services Fighter Trials in St. Louis. I’ve already had a sitrep relayed out to him. The same to the vice president. Do you want them recalled, sir?”
Childress nodded slowly. With his elbows resting on the chair arms and his fingers interlaced, he stared into the future.
“The Secdef, yes. Immediately. The vice president, no. In fact, I specifically want Stan to stay put out there in Utah. Do we have an E-4B in at Hill Air Force Base?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Then we’ll just put an enhanced communications and liaison staff in at his summer place. It might be a good idea to keep the National Command Authority dispersed for a while.”
“I concur, sir,” Hanson approved. The president was beginning to react to the crisis in much the same way he had to an in-flight emergency aboard one of his old ANG C-130s.
“What about the secretary of state?” Childress asked. “Has he been advised?”
“I got off link with Secretary Van Lynden just a couple of minutes ago. He wasn’t surprised. He indicates that this tracks with certain events that have been developing within the crisis-reduction talks over the past few days. Harry agrees with the assessment and he believes that the potential for a nuclear event does exist. He’ll be standing by to confer with you at your convenience, Mr. President.”
“Very well.” Childress nodded. “Hold a line on standby for me. Now, how about the military end of this thing?”
“General Landry is standing by with the word.”
America’s senior military officer straightened at Childress’s approach, the cluster of aides and advisers he had been in consultation with falling back respectfully.
“Mr. President.”
“The short version, Morrell. What do we have?”
The JCS chairman turned and indicated a map display on the repeater console beside him. “I’m certain that the National Security Adviser has already given you the basics, sir.
At about oh eight hundred Washington time, the Reds sortied a three-boat wolf pack out of Shanghai. Two Han-class hunter-killers and a late-model Xia missile boat. The NAVSPECFORCE destroyer that made the sighting was able to make a solid ID on all targets. Unfortunately, our ship was also spotted and was driven off under fire, losing the contact.”
General Landry indicated a glowing arc line on the graphics display of the East China Sea, Shanghai at its central point.
“Given the performance envelope of the involved classes of submarine, we know they still must be somewhere within this area. This zone of uncertainty grows, of course, for every minute we fail to reacquire contact.”
“What are we doing about it?” Childress demanded.
“Admiral Tallman, commanding Task Force 7.1, is currently deploying his forces to sweep for the boomer. CINCPAC has also made this Red wolf pack a priority tasking for our Okinawa-and Korea-based Orion squadrons. The problem is that the high belligerency level of the Red Chinese is probably going to make any kind of inshore ASW operations extremely difficult. Task Force 7.1 is already being sharked by Red air force units.” Landry hesitated for a moment, then continued. “In addition, sir, on my own authority, I have ordered Looking Glass One scrambled.”
Looking Glass One, the angel of death. The airborne command post that would assume control of America’s nuclear response forces should Washington, D.C., suddenly become an incandescent cloud of radioactive plasma.
Moving slowly and deliberately, Ben Childress removed his glasses. Taking a handkerchief from his suit pocket, he polished the lenses and asked himself for the ten thousandth time why anyone would become a president, or a military officer, or a teacher, or anything else that would place the destiny of another human being in their hands.
He redonned the glasses with a single crisp movement.
“All right, General. That’s what’s been done. What do you advise we do next?”
“The CNO wants to move a second carrier task force into the East China Sea as well as to move additional submarine and land-based ASW assets in-theater. I concur on all three actions. I feel that getting and maintaining a fix on this boomer is an absolute priority.
“In addition,” Landry continued, “I suggest we forward deploy the 336th Composite Strike Wing into our bases in Okinawa and Korea. They’re on Flyaway Alert now, and we can probably have the first elements in the air within four hours.”
“We’re talking about a major escalation here, General.”
The JCS chairman nodded. “Yes, sir, it is. Normally, I’d say that if we need to send a message, we use Western Union. However, if we’ve got somebody out there who’s even thinking about taking the nukes out of the box, we had better show them, and the entire world, that we’re taking it damn seriously.”
“Anything else?”
General Landry and Sam Hanson exchanged glances.
“Nothing more at this time, sir.”
“Very well. Proceed on all points.”