Shattered Trident

20. INDECISION

9 September 2016

0100 Local Time

White House Situation Room

Washington, D.C.

“The second wave of missiles did the real damage.” The air force colonel was running through the slides a little too quickly. It was hard to see details in the photos, but the colonel’s point was still well made. “With the alliance nations still putting out fires from the first ballistic missile strike early this morning local time, China followed up with a second salvo around noon that concentrated entirely on economic and political targets. And they used twice as many missiles,” the briefer explained.

The colonel pressed his controller, and a map of Tokyo replaced ground-level photos of what had been the Tokyo Stock Exchange. “Second Artillery launched seventy-two DF-21s at Japan, and as far as we can tell, every one was aimed at something in Tokyo. They used supporting air- and submarine-launched cruise missile attacks again, designed to disrupt the Japanese air defenses, but with less success. The Japanese were ready for them this time.”

The colonel’s dress blues had the customary “fruit salad” on the left, showing long and distinguished service. The name tag on the right side of his uniform blouse read CHAMBERS. He was not wearing pilot’s wings, however. Instead, on the left, under the rows of decorations, was a stylized silver rocket, surrounded by a wreath, with a star on top. The Master Missile Operations badge was awarded to officers with at least nine years’ experience in operational ballistic missile units. This was a new kind of war, with different skills required.

“Because their missiles were concentrated in one small sector, the Chinese were able to overwhelm the batteries defending Tokyo. The Japanese had another missile ship damaged by the supporting attacks, but altogether the defenders destroyed fourteen incoming hostiles. That left sixty missiles with six-hundred-kilogram warheads hitting the city, and the Chinese chose places where it was impossible to not hit something.”

He pointed to a cluster of yellow dots. “For example, of the nine missiles aimed at the Tokyo Stock Exchange, four fell on the exchange proper, effectively leveling the building. One landed a little to the southwest, flattening a securities company, two to the north shattered an elevated expressway that is a major traffic artery, and one outlier to the west collapsed a high-rise apartment building. Casualties from this one cluster of hits alone are going to be in the high hundreds, at least.

“In addition to the stock exchange, the Chinese targeted the Tokyo Shinkansen train station, the busiest in Japan, the National Diet Building with five warheads, the business district in Marunouchi, and the Tokyo Bay Aqualine. It’s a bridge-tunnel across Tokyo Bay, and although they didn’t get a direct hit, the warheads acted like depth charges and collapsed the underwater tunnel.

“It was the same story in other countries. According to our best accounting, Seoul was hit with thirty-two missiles, Taipei with forty-seven, Manila with thirty-three. A total of at least twenty-two Chinese IRBMs were shot down by national air defenses and the U.S. units at Clark Field.

“Aside from the Chinese ballistic missile strikes, the three ocean basins—the South China Sea, East China Sea, and Yellow Sea—are all battlefields. Strike aircraft and submarines hit anything flying the other side’s flags. The Chinese are even strafing alliance-flagged fishing craft. But they’re keeping most of their fighters close to home to block alliance air and cruise missile raids.

“The Chinese ground offensive in Vietnam is all about speed. They’re taking heavy casualties, but they’re making decent progress, better than they did in 1979. They’ve committed six group armies to the initial assault wave, that’s approximately equivalent to sixteen divisions. There are another three group armies marshaling in the rear area, and we’ve seen indications several more are getting ready to transfer to the Guangzhou military region. The Vietnamese are putting up a good fight, but they were pounded by Chinese air attacks for several days before the invasion began. The terrain is probably Vietnam’s best defense. It is very unfriendly to heavy mechanized units.

“And of course, the cyber attacks and the sabotage continue.”

Colonel Chambers’s last slide showed the seal of the CJCS with the word QUESTIONS.

“Are any of the alliance nations retaliating?” President Myles asked.

“South Korea, Vietnam, and India have land-attack cruise missiles, but they haven’t targeted Chinese cities, either before or after these attacks. They’ve been aimed at China’s oil infrastructure: refineries, storage areas, even a company involved in experimental oil extraction techniques. The entire alliance remains focused on the Chinese oil supply.”

Senator Frank Weitz asked, “Colonel, you didn’t say how many civilian casualties you think the alliance countries suffered.”

Chambers sighed. “It would be an estimate, Senator, and probably a poor one. It’s only been three hours since the second wave landed. We don’t even have firm casualty figures for the first set of attacks. The missiles hit on a workday morning. The commercial and business establishments were fully occupied. The roads and trains were full, although it wasn’t rush hour. Certainly thousands of souls have been killed in each city, with several times that wounded. We haven’t seen anything like this since the mass bombing raids of World War Two.”

Malcolm Geisler, the secretary of defense, asked, “Why did the Chinese change their tactics between the two raids?”

“As I mentioned earlier, it enabled them to swamp the defenses in one narrow sector. I believe it was also a correction of their targeting philosophy. The Chinese don’t have an infinite number of missiles, and in the first wave, some shots simply missed their targets and were effectively wasted.

“A DF-21C has a fifty percent chance of striking within a hundred and thirty feet of its target. For example, the Chinese fired four missiles at the Leshan Mountain ABM radar in Taiwan. One hit and damaged some of the outbuildings, but the other three were clean misses. Military targets are small, and often designed to resist damage. Civilian targets are not.” Chambers sounded grim.

“How many missiles do the Chinese have?” Weitz asked.

“They could do this two or three more times, tops. This probably represented a maximum effort, based on our estimates of the number of launchers they have.”

Congresswoman Karen Sanchez asked, “Those three group armies you mentioned. Why are they being held back?”

“Most likely as tactical reserves,” replied the colonel, “in case the Chinese need to shore up one of their main attacks, but they can also be used as garrison forces and blocking troops. This allows the main effort to just keep on going without having to worry about their rear.”

Weitz asked, “What about the media in the alliance countries? How are they reacting? The Littoral Alliance declared itself on the fifth and four days later the Chinese are pummeling the alliance capitals.”

“That’s not really my specialty, sir, but what I’ve seen is what you’d expect—anger and horror.”

Gregory Alexander, the director of national intelligence, added, “Seoul has been prepared for an attack since the end of the Korean War. This is just coming from a different direction. Japan, with seventy-plus years of pacifism, is having a tougher time of it. There’s always been a strong anti-nationalist sentiment in Japan, a reaction to the militarism of World War Two. Now that’s building, with a sort of ‘see what you’ve gotten us into!’ theme. Manila’s in between. And with the Internet, it’s all happening at light speed.”

Chambers nodded. “Absolutely. We got some of our best information about the damage caused from personal photos posted online.”

Myles seemed concerned at that news. “Greg, do you think the Chinese are taking advantage of that?”

“Absolutely,” the DNI replied. “Fast feedback from the first strike undoubtedly affected their targeting decisions. And it’s possible that the Chinese are also salting the forums and chat boards with provocative posts.”

“Strategic trolling,” Myles remarked. “And damage assessment provided by the target. It’s a real advantage for China. They can see exactly what effect their attacks are having, physically and psychologically.”

“In World War Two, the governments kept detailed information about bombing attacks out of the media,” Alexander replied. “All they’d print was, ‘Portsmouth was bombed with some damage last night.’ Can any democracy do that today?”

Nobody had an answer for that.

“And these attacks are expected to continue?” Geisler asked.

“There’s no reason for them not to,” Chambers answered firmly. “It takes several hours to check out a launcher and load another missile, and each brigade can only reload so many launchers at the same time. We could see another salvo in five to eight hours.”

Sanchez raised her hand. “One last question, Colonel, or maybe Mr. Alexander. How close are the Chinese to breaking? Will we be able to tell? What will we be able to do if that happens?” Chambers raised his hands and stepped back, shaking his head.

Myles nodded to Alexander. “Tell them what you told me, Greg.”

“Ma’am, that’s three excellent questions, not one. Large-scale civil disorders or significant electrical blackouts would be the easiest to spot, but other signs could be sudden changes in the leadership, even problems in their banking system. It’s a systemic failure, so it’s like what doctors see when someone’s dying and their organs begin shutting down.

“That’s in addition to what we can find out about their oil and other energy supplies. As to what we’d do, we’re not waiting for the event. That’s what we are talking about here.”

“And how long can they last?” she pressed.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice me not answering your first question.” Alexander paused, contemplating how to deal with the representative’s question. “The problem is that we are not looking at a military defeat. Both sides could keep smacking at each other for months. China has the advantage in manpower and materiel, but they aren’t fighting the war they planned for. That was focused largely on deterring us from becoming involved in an invasion of Taiwan. Now, they are facing a multi-front conflict against a unified opponent who is single-mindedly focused on crippling them economically. So, the real question is, ‘How long can China go before her economy has rolled too far downhill to prevent it from becoming an avalanche?’”

Sanchez motioned that she was following his line of thought, but her arced eyebrow showed she was still waiting for an answer.

Alexander sighed. “All right. If nothing changes, maybe three weeks. Not less than two weeks, probably not more than five. A change in alliance strategy, or, heaven forbid, some sort of random event like a natural disaster…” He shrugged.

Myles nodded to his fidgeting chief of staff. “That’s all, Milt,” and then, “Thank you, Colonel.” As the JCS briefer left, the others, silent during the brief, stirred. Myles explained, “Lady and gentlemen, you now know as much as I do. Frankly, I’m amazed at the reaction here in the U.S. It’s as if we’re the ones being bombed.”

Senator Weitz, the democratic majority leader with four terms in the Senate, waited half a moment, then said, “I believe it’s the overt and destructive nature of this latest development. Japan, Korea, and the Philippines have all been our friends and allies for what? Seventy years. A naval war, especially with submarines, is out of the public’s sight. The sea claims the wreckage. As the good colonel pointed out, there are photos and videos all over the Internet, not to mention firsthand accounts. We can see and share our friends’ pain firsthand.”

“And it’s the last straw,” Sanchez added. She was the House majority leader, with only two terms in office, but impressive political skills. “As Senator Weitz has pointed out, the Chinese are now intentionally killing noncombatant citizens of allied nations, hurting our friends. There is a large Asian population in my district, and in many American cities. The U.S. has military, economic, political, and blood ties with the countries being attacked.”

“What about the ethnic Chinese?” Myles asked. “There are a lot of them in California and the U.S. in general.”

“A valid point, Mr. President. But China is not a democracy. Ethnic Chinese in the U.S. either have American attitudes, being raised here, or chose to emigrate because they rejected the communist regime. And all the citizens in my district now see that communist dictatorship directly attacking democratic countries with bloody results. My staff has received thousands of e-mails and messages since the first attacks yesterday, demanding that the United States of America act.”

Milt Alvarez asked, “What about the rest of the Congress?”

Representative Sanchez shrugged. “This war has developed and changed so rapidly that it’s hard to form a consensus and put any decision into action. I know of at least seven bills being circulated demanding everything from trade embargoes to your impeachment.”

“The voters may take care of that last item shortly,” Myles remarked.

Weitz added, “It’s been the same in the Senate. My sense was that party support for your policies was strong until the Littoral Alliance declared itself. Since then, the Democrats are fractured, either urging some level of support or formal neutrality—renouncing our Pacific alliances as invalid, overtaken by events. They’re worried about the precipitous drop in trade, too. Unemployment in my district is too high as it is, and the common belief is that it’s about to fall off a cliff. I can’t predict how frightened people will vote.

“If you were to ask for hard numbers, Mr. President, I would say that it’s fifty percent or more in favor of some level of support for the Littoral Alliance, thirty percent for cutting all ties, twenty percent are just plain confused, but one hundred percent are worried.” The senator shrugged. “Of course, that was before this latest round of attacks on the alliance capitals. The wanton destruction and loss of life may drive more people into the ‘support the alliance’ camp.”

“The Republicans are divided as well, along similar lines,” Sanchez remarked.

“And your personal recommendations?” Myles asked.

Weitz replied, “Frankly, I’m in the ‘do something’ camp. Internationally, as a global power with interests in the region, we have to take some sort of constructive action or the world will think we can’t, or worse, don’t care. Domestically,” he paused, but then reluctantly admitted, “you’re being perceived as indecisive, and that’s having an economic as well as a political cost. Wall Street’s in free fall, but they can recover if you show them where you’re headed, and why.”

Sanchez nodded emphatically. “There are good reasons for any course you take. The party will follow your lead—well, most of them will,” she corrected, smiling. “After all, we’re Democrats.”

Myles sighed. “I wish I had better options. Military action brings us into direct conflict with a nuclear superpower. The first time Chinese forces kill Americans, or vice versa, this war takes a dangerous turn.”

As he spoke, the senator seemed to make a decision. “Mr. President, I’m counting votes in my head, and if you want to take us in on the side of the Littoral Alliance, I can almost guarantee a Senate resolution supporting your actions. It will silence the fire-eaters on both sides of the aisle, and it’s the kind of big decision presidents make. The average man on the street doesn’t like dictatorships, and there are some particularly nasty aspects of the Chinese version. You know we can beat them.” He straightened in his chair. “That’s my official recommendation.”

Karen Sanchez looked thoughtful. “The problem is, we could really do without the expense of another war—human and economic. We could spin a decision to nullify the treaties into a ‘take care of the home folks’ message. We can work with that. More than one president’s been elected by promising mothers that their sons wouldn’t be sent to die in some foreign land.”

“And how many kept their promise?” Myles asked. “This war will be over by the election, but the shockwaves will be with us for a very long time afterward.” He stood, and the rest stood with him.

“I apologize for the late hour, but things are moving very fast. I’m grateful for your insights and support,” Myles said, shaking their hands. “I need you to ask your colleagues for a little more patience. There’s a lot going on under the surface. If I’d picked the obvious answer three days ago, I would have been wrong. And remind your fellows there is a price we pay with any choice.”

Andy Lloyd waited until they’d left and Myles was sitting down again. As the president poured another cup of tea, the secretary of state said flatly, “I think we should join the alliance.”

“Then you’ve changed your mind,” Myles observed. His tone wasn’t critical, but it invited an explanation.

“I keep thinking of what the Japanese ambassador said about short, violent wars being better than long ones. The Chinese are losing; their economy is tilting over the edge. If we throw our weight in, the Chinese will lose all the more quickly, or perhaps, even sue for peace. That’s a good thing. And the Littoral Alliance has grown very powerful. I’d rather have them remember us as an ally than a judgmental bystander.”

“As we work with them to crush our second biggest trading partner,” Myles replied, smiling. “If we’re lucky, losing fifteen percent of our export market will only put us in a recession.”

“That’s going to happen anyway, if and when the alliance wins.”

“The Chinese losing is what scares me, Andy. But do we want to add the cost of another war to that?”

Ray Kirkpatrick, who’d organized the briefing, and suggested inviting the congressional leaders, said, “I’m going to have to officially disagree, Mr. Secretary. The Littoral Alliance is winning at sea, but their entire war is premised on the belief that the Chinese government, at some point, will cut their losses and agree to terms.

“We don’t know how far the Chinese leadership is willing to fall. Admitting defeat has personal consequences for the guys in charge. They’re not monsters, but they may be willing to let things go to hell if it keeps them in power. And here’s what I’m scared of: Do the Chinese want a postwar world where their country’s a wreck and the alliance is strong? If the Chinese think they’re going to go down, they’d almost certainly want to pull the Littoral Alliance countries down with them. I think we should keep clear.”

“Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate your opinions, as always. You both have good arguments to support your views. My problem is that I have to reconcile the wildly diverse recommendations and make a decision,” Myles admitted wearily.

After a short pause, the president turned to his two most trusted advisors and said, “The only choice that’s entirely bad is doing nothing. Ray, I’m sure the joint chiefs have been updating the contingency plans for China. Tell them to get ready.”

Kirkpatrick didn’t look happy, but he nodded.

National Security Adviser’s Office

West Wing, the White House

Washington, D.C.

Patterson was waiting in the outer office when Kirkpatrick returned from the briefing. He nodded and wordlessly waved her in behind him.

After entering and closing the door, she found a chair. Kirkpatrick wearily dropped into his seat and she asked, “So no decision, then?”

“No.” Kirkpatrick shook his head reflexively. “On one level, I can’t blame him. Neither choice is what he wants, which is a cease-fire. We tell him he can either join the fight or sit back and watch until it’s all over.

“He’s scared, Joanna. Did you know the president has asked Greg Alexander for intel projections of a nuclear attack by China on the alliance? First, what a ‘demonstration’ might look like, and second, for a full-blown nuclear strike.” He nodded at Patterson’s horrified expression. “Thinking the unthinkable.”

“I’ve been away from the grid for an hour and,” Kirkpatrick checked his watch, “seventeen minutes. What’s new?”

“New casualty figures, higher of course. Someone posted a video from the traffic cameras inside the Tokyo Aqualine tunnel as it flooded.”

Kirkpatrick held up a hand as if warding her off. “That’s okay, I’ve got a thing about tunnels. What about governmental reaction?”

“Nearly identical statements asking their citizens to bear up under the attacks. ‘The alliance is strong, the Chinese are on the ropes,’ and so on. They promise new attacks that will bring the war to a swift and successful end.”

Kirkpatrick shook his head in disbelief. “They should have been in with us at the briefing. Greg Alexander gives the Chinese at least three weeks, possibly five, maybe more.”

Patterson read from one of the documents in her lap. “‘The end of our struggle is at hand. These attacks against our cities are China’s last gasp before they either see reason or collapse, exhausted and broken.’ This was released less than an hour ago in all the alliance capitals. Same wording.”

“China is nowhere near that far gone. It’s a bad sign if the alliance is lying to its own people.”

“Unless they think it’s true,” she countered.

“If they think China’s close to the edge, then this Komamura’s dropped a decimal point. Our briefer said the Chinese are preparing to move more group armies to the Vietnam border. That’ll take a lot of time, that’s a lot of people and gear to pack up, ship, and unpack. That takes scarce fuel and shows long-term planning.”

Patterson agreed. “They’re still committed to the fight. Can we pass that report on to the alliance somehow?”

Kirkpatrick took off his glasses, and rubbed his face with both hands. “Dunno. Cooperation’s been way down since the alliance declared itself. We’re still collaborating on the missile-warning stuff, but neither side is sharing any operational-level data, or even information on our own side’s movements. They might just take it and sit on it.”

Patterson brightened. “What if we released it publicly?”

“Another press release from the U.S. government? Would anyone even notice?”

“What if it wasn’t from the government,” she asked, “but a respected source?”

“Walter Cronkite died in 2009.”

“Ray, I’m serious. I know someone who can get our information out to a wide audience on the Internet. He’s respected and from what I can tell, knows what he’s doing. And he gets stuff from all over the world. Our information could just be folded in with the rest.”

He nodded, smiling. “I like it. The Internet. Citizens in the Littoral Alliance find out they’re in for a long haul, not a quick victory. Maybe they’ll push their governments for a cease-fire. Americans find out China’s not a pushover, and the president gets a little breathing room. Maybe it even gets into China somehow and the man on the street finds out what’s going on.”

Kirkpatrick nodded and called his assistant. “Denise, I need ten minutes with the president ASAP. Yes, before he goes to bed. Tell them it’s about improving our options. I’ll stand by.”

He hung up the phone and pulled out a notepad. “All right, tell me about this respected Internet source.”

“Well, he’s Canadian…”

9 September 2016

0800 Local Time

Ground Floor

West Wing, the White House

Washington, D.C.

Joanna hadn’t come home last night, and Hardy worried, as was a husband’s prerogative. It wasn’t about her fidelity so much as her health.

His cell phone rang exactly three minutes after the clock alarm, and he was relieved to hear her voice. “Lowell, it’s been a long night. Can I see you for breakfast, say at eight? In the West Wing.”

“Of course. I’ll be there earlier, if I can arrange it,” he answered. She sounded tired, which made sense if she’d been up all night. He felt guilty, then silly. It didn’t do her any good for him to lose sleep.

A taxi from Georgetown got him to the White House by seven forty, and he was waiting in the ground floor lobby when Joanna found him. Her good morning hug was especially welcome, but she did look tired.

When he looked up, her boss, Ray Kirkpatrick, was standing nearby. Suddenly flustered, Hardy said, “I understand. Go help your boss, we’ll have breakfast another time.”

“No, Lowell, Dr. Kirkpatrick and I both need to talk to you.”

Now he was curious, as well as hungry.

There were several small dining rooms on the ground floor, along with offices for people supporting the situation room. The three ate alone at a table big enough for six, one of two in the room. She’d ordered for him, and thus Hardy had his familiar cereal, toast, and juice. She liked fruit and a muffin. The familiar meal made Kirkpatrick almost a guest, but the national security adviser tore into bagels and lox while Patterson explained.

“Lowell, would you be willing to pass some information from us to a CNN reporter? It’s the one you told me about.”

“Laird? The one who made so much noise with Bywater’s Blog?” Even as he spoke, confirming the reporter’s identity, alarm bells sounded in his mind, enough to form chords.

“What kind of information?” he asked carefully.

“Information about the war, security-related information,” she answered guilelessly. “Freshly declassified. Very fresh.”

Hardy’s expression must have given him away, because Kirkpatrick explained, “This has the president’s permission and full support. In fact, he’s enthusiastic. Everything we give you will have been personally reviewed, maybe even chosen by him.”

One of the bells shut off. Leaking classified information was endemic in Washington, but it was also illegal as hell. If, for whatever reason, you were identified and prosecuted, there was nowhere to hide. But the president could declassify whatever he wanted to. Kennedy had used his authority to declassify photos of missiles in Cuba. If Kirkpatrick—no, if Joanna said this had Myles’s imprimatur, then it was all right.

“We want to get some background material onto the Internet and into the news. Too many people think the war’s going to end in a week, or that the Chinese are just going to say ‘uncle.’ We’d like you to contact Ms. Laird and offer her ‘background’ information. She will know what to do from there.”

There was no question of him saying no. Not to Myles, and especially not to Joanna. But he felt uncertain. “I’m a little new at this,” Hardy explained. He asked Kirkpatrick, “Can you recommend a good parking garage?”

After Kirkpatrick stopped laughing, he said, “Deep Throat didn’t have e-mail. We’ll give you a cell phone with an unregistered number. Use it only to speak with Laird, of course. You can also use a special e-mail address. If anyone else tries to trace it back, it will go to a different IP address each time.”

Joanna added, “While we want to make sure that your role can’t be traced, it will be obvious to Laird that this information is being deliberately leaked. Once she sees its value, she won’t be able to resist using it.”

She slid a small box over to him. “Cell phone and charger. A flash drive is in there as well. Her contact information is already loaded into the phone, and the drive has the first file, along with a fact sheet on Laird.” Joanna smiled. “She sounds nice.”

Kirkpatrick said, “I’m going to insult your intelligence, Senator, only because you said you’re new at this, and I think you’re too much of a straight shooter. You speak only to Laird directly. No staff, no messages, and definitely no voice mails. She has to know it’s you, of course, but no explanations about how you came by the data, or why you’re offering it to her. She will press you, hard, but you will have to be reluctantly unhelpful. Your identity as a senator is her guarantee that the information is worth looking at. If she shares your identity as a source with anyone, it’s instantly over. She should know the rules. If she breaks them, throw the phone away and tell us.”

The national security advisor added, “We need you to move on, this, too. The sooner this is on the street, the better.”

9 September 2016

0845 Local Time

CNN New York Bureau

Time Warner Center, New York

It was a Washington, D.C. area code, but Chris Laird didn’t recognize the caller. She was already behind schedule. A piece on an industrial accident in Malaysia that might actually be Chinese sabotage was supposed to be ready for the 9:00 A.M. feed, but part of being a journalist was never ignoring a lead, or a call. And how did they get her personal cell number?

“This is Chris Laird,” she said carefully.

“Ms. Laird, this is Senator Lowell Hardy. I’m about to send you a file that you may find very useful.”

And that was why she always answered the phone.