The Fall of Night

Chapter Four: Storm Warning

Brussels, Belgium

“You know,” Captain Saundra Keshena remarked, as the two American officers made their way towards the centre of Brussels, “I’m fairly sure that it is impossible for one man to have so many muscles.”

Colonel Seth Fanaroff smiled as he studied the statue of General Éclair. It said something about how highly General Éclair was regarded that the Pentagon had flown its flag at half-mast the day his death had been confirmed — although, incidentally, not the manner of it. Even the most data-constipated bureaucrat in Brussels had hesitated before admitting that their finest commanding officer — a Frenchman who had had the political skills of Eisenhower matched with the military skills of Sherman — had killed himself because of the impossible task he had faced and the disaster that had occurred. The Americans had learnt something about accomplishing the impossible after the Pakistani Incursion and the Second Afghanistan War; the European Union hadn’t learned anything until too late.

Fanaroff wasn’t that surprised. His role as the United States Military Intelligence liaison to the European Defence Force — EUROFOR — gave him a unique insight into how the institution worked. It had been the result of so many political compromises that it was surprising that the attempt to send troops to the Sudan had ever gotten off the ground; EUROFOR was all chiefs and very few Indians. The day that NATO had dissolved in a shower of acrimony had been proclaimed as the ‘hour of Europe’ — years later, the Europeans were still waiting for their military to actually do something useful. Billions of Euros had been spent… on what?

“They idealise him,” Fanaroff said, without any real anger in his voice. America and Europe were decoupled these days; even his message wouldn’t change anything. There had been a time when V Corps had been stationed in Germany; a powerful force of tanks, infantry, mobile rocket launchers… even tactical nuclear weapons. Now, there were only a handful of American officers in Europe, mainly liaison officers like Fanaroff himself, even though there was little actual cooperation, at least in the public eye. There were people in the Pentagon who believed that the real reason for Turkey’s rejection from the EU had been because of the possibility of having to work with American forces in the Middle East. “The one man who could have built EUROFOR into a real army.”

The entire system was bizarre, something that proved, more than anything else, that Europe considered itself unthreatened. EUROFOR had only four multinational regiments; the remainder of the force considered of units that were assigned to EUROFOR by the national governments that owned them. It was worse in the European Air Force; all that was owned was a handful of helicopters and the former NATO force of Sentry AWACS. As for the navy…

His lips twitched. The European Standing Force in the Mediterranean consisted of units from five different countries, trying to work together in the face of mounting political infighting over just what they could do to the force of immigrants that swarmed across the water every night. For some reason, the people in Algeria thought that France would provide a better home for them than Algeria… and, with the show trials and executions for everyone who showed even the slightest urge to question the government, it was easy to see their point. Nothing short of machine gunning every last boat would have stopped it… and the European Governments refused to take that step.

Captain Saundra Keshena looked up at him. “Sir?”

Fanaroff smiled to himself. “Yes?”

“Sir,” Saundra asked, “why are we here?”

“I assume you don’t mean in the cosmic sense,” Fanaroff teased her. She was a conscript, one of the unlucky third of the American female population who had been drafted into the armed forces. There was some evidence that the five years service that each conscript had to do in the Army was improving America, but Fanaroff himself wanted more information before passing judgement; Saundra seemed only suited to be a paper-pusher, something the army already had too many of. “We’re here to talk to the European Defence Commission and see if they’ll listen to us.”

He felt his eyes narrow as they passed a series of protesters. Brussels saw more protests than any other European city, ever since it had become the capital of the European Union, in name as well as fact. Some protesters were demanding easier immigration, others were opposing the desperate attempts to limit immigration, some were demanding military intervention in one struggling country or another… and all of them were opposed to America. One protester was even against the American determination to maintain embassies in every European country; never mind the fact that that had been a European balls-up from start to finish. The European Parliament had tried to set itself up as the only voice for Europe and national governments had stamped down hard. America hadn’t been involved.

It was the first time that Saundra had visited the headquarters of the European Defence Commission, the home of EUROFOR. Judging from her stare, she wasn’t impressed; the Europeans had spent enough money to create and outfit two armoured divisions on a building that could only be described as an eyesore. The security around it was a joke; Fanaroff had seriously considered taking a bomb in one day and rubbing the collective nose of EUROFOR in its own weakness. Everyone knew, one day, that the Terror War would spread to Europe… apart from those responsible for Europe’s defence.

“It’s a giant dick,” Saundra protested. “What were they thinking?”

“You should hear what the grunts call it,” Fanaroff said, for once serious. “That, my dear, is what happens when you let Joe Shit have free reign.”

The security hadn’t improved since the last time he had visited; the guards swung sensors over their bodies and checked the mobile phones, terminals and briefcases they both carried. Fanaroff, who knew that sensors could be spoofed quite easily by someone with the right equipment, was nervous; there was a reason why the Pentagon insisted on a strip search before allowing anyone into the building. In Europe, after a couple of occasions where guards had strip-searched a veiled woman, even female guards had been forbidden to search anyone. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

The interior of the building looked like a palace; the interior decorations alone had cost more than the richest man in America brought home in one year. A giant portrait of Napoleon I took up most of one wall, other portraits of famous military leaders dominated the remainder of the ground floor. Someone unfamiliar with the military might have been impressed; Fanaroff, who had volunteered for the army, could see the weaknesses… and knew enough to know who had been left out. Bomber Harris, Rommel, Petain, Bismarck…

“I could take a suitcase bomb in here, blow it up, and do EUROFOR a vast favour,” he muttered, as their escort finally appeared. “Remember, be nice to the poor gentleman.”

“Welcome to EUROFOR HQ,” the young man said. His uniform was so spotless that Fanaroff immediately deduced that he had never seen active service. “I have been ordered to escort you before the Commission.”

“Thank you,” Fanaroff said. “Lead on.”

He amused himself with making notes about how dangerous the building was for anyone unlucky enough to get caught up in a bomb attack; the Europeans hadn’t even created a clear air space around Brussels. The only countries that had done anything like that were the French and the British, both of whom had faced terrorist attempts to use airliners as weapons. The guards weren’t armed… and while he was sure that there was a security force nearby that could stand off a major attack, the real danger was a quick strike, not a major attack. A single airliner could wipe out much of the European Union’s high command.

“I am afraid that your aide will have to remain outside,” the escort said, as they reached the big doors. “Please would you come this way?”

The office was large enough to play football in, Fanaroff considered; it was only a slight exaggeration. It was more luxurious than the Oval Office and considerably less practical; the five men in the office turned to face him as he entered. One of them wore a European Service Uniform — the equivalent of American BDUs — the others wore the more flamboyant dress uniforms of REMFs. Fanaroff knew General Konrad Trautman by reputation; the others he had met from time to time in an official capacity.

“Welcome to EUROFOR HQ,” General Henri Guichy said. He carried the additional title of Commissioner, as France’s official representative to the European Defence Committee, the closest thing that Europe had to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Fanaroff had long ago creased wondering which tail wagged which dog. The EDC had vast power and influence in Europe… and its structure was such that it promoted paper-pushers, rather than fighters, to high rank. “I was quite surprised when you requested this meeting.”

I bet you were, Fanaroff thought. He took a moment to study Trautman with care; the German, at least, was a real combat soldier. There were some who wondered if he was the real heir to General Éclair, not a thought that would please Guichy and his kind. The brown-haired General looked competent enough; his posting to Poland had been proclaimed as Europe’s reaction to Poland’s unjustified fears about the Russians. Fanaroff suspected, along with several others in the American defence establishment, that those fears were not so unjustified after all.

“I have been asked to convoy some information from Langley,” he said, referring to the catch-all term for American Intelligence, in particular the CIA. The information had been gathered from a dozen different sources, but it had been an overworked analyst in the CIA who had put it all together. “The White House was keen that you heard the information as quickly as possible.”

Guichy shrugged and waved them all to chairs. “One hopes that this information is more accurate than the vaunted American search for weapons of mass destruction,” he said. “You must understand that Brussels is hardly going to jump into action at the command of the American President, no matter how important she is.”

“Of course,” Fanaroff said, unwilling to argue politics with either Guichy or one of his people. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a small secure datachip. “I assume that you have a reader here with biometric sensors?”

Guichy nodded and passed him the reader. Fanaroff inserted the chip and placed his hand on the sensor, allowing the reader to confirm that he, Colonel Fanaroff, was permitted to access the information on the chip and share it with others on the cleared list. The CIA and the other intelligence services collected thousands of gigabytes worth of information on everything under the sun; the problem was in using the information before it was too late.

“You will know, of course, that the first Russian surge of troops into Belarus occurred in 2018, following a request by the Dictator to protect himself and his cronies from their own people,” Fanaroff said. It had been one of the few things that Europe and America had actually been in agreement upon; it was a bad thing. Both nations had protested, to no avail. “Four years later, the Russians surged more troops into the country and sealed the borders; those units included armoured divisions, attack helicopters, and other units that seemed useless for a counter-insurgency operation.”

“And the Poles panicked,” Guichy snapped. “I remember.”

“You didn’t have other problems at the time,” Fanaroff said. “The Russians have been fuming about the actions of the Baltic States against the Russians living within the states… and you have been backing the Baltic States. But… the Russians have been shipping weapons, including Scud missiles, to Algeria… and other weapons to Argentina. The British have already had to dispatch a major force to the South Atlantic; what about the danger of Algeria?”

Guichy looked up at him. “The Algerians do not have the capability to launch an attack on Europe,” he said. “They might fire missiles at us, but they will all be downed by the Patriot missiles that we purchased from you at vast expense.”

Fanaroff took a breath. “There is also the fact that the Russians have been backing the pro-Russian factions in the Ukraine,” he said. “You have two regiments, one Swedish, one Irish, providing peacekeeping forces in the region; you’re overstretched and the Russians are pouring on the pressure.”

“The Poles have been worried about the safety of their borders since the first cross-border raid,” Trautman said slowly. Guichy shot him a ‘shut up’ look that he ignored. “Still, I would hardly call that pouring on the pressure.”

Fanaroff frowned. “What is EUROFOR’s position when it comes to Ukraine?”

Guichy matched his frown. “Our orders from the European Parliament are to maintain the peace of the region, safe in the knowledge that the long-term interests of Europe will be satisfied by Ukraine becoming prosperous, and then joining the European Union as a full and equal member.”

“Interesting concept,” Fanaroff said. He paused, just long enough to make them nervous. “What about the Russian attitude to all of this?”

Guichy blinked. “I do beg your pardon?”

“A while back, you offered to buy Kaliningrad off them, following the independence demonstrations that took place in the Oblast,” Fanaroff said, as calmly as he could. “The Russians reacted with speed and fury; they sent in thousands of airborne soldiers and muscled the Lithuanian forces into allowing them passage through Lithuanian territory. Thousands of refugees fled west… while hundreds of others were shipped into Russia and sent to the gulags.”

“There are no such things these days,” Guichy protested.

“I can show you the satellite photographs, if you would like,” Fanaroff said. “It hardly matters; the point is that Kaliningrad is now a loyal component of the Russian Federation, which has also reabsorbed Belarus, most of the Central Asian states and, for the first time since 1960, no longer has a threat in the east to worry about. The Chinese Civil War has seen to that.

“So tell me, how are the Russians going to react?”

“They are not going to start a war with us,” Trautman said. “If the people of the Ukraine decide that they want to vote to join us, what right have they to interfere?”

“It is no use passing resolutions on vegetarianism when the wolves are of a different opinion,” Fanaroff said. He had had a girlfriend who had been a vegetarian once; she had been so self-righteous that he had dumped her right after one argument too many. There was a point when even great sex didn’t make up for the fact that you really didn’t like each other. “The Russians have launched a major military build up” — he pointed to several locations on the display — “here, here and here, perfectly positioned for a rapid advance into the Ukraine. They could brush the Ukrainian Government forces, such as they are, aside within a week… while you’re arguing over what to do about it. The American Government…”

“Is worried about the security of the ABM stations in Poland,” Guichy snapped. “I would like to remind you that they’re there are the sufferance of the European Union…”

“The Polish Government, which for some reason wanted to keep the military agreement that Poland signed with us,” Fanaroff snapped back. “The Poles agreed to keep them, because they wanted the radars to provide additional coverage for their own air force and EUROFOR is not involved and doesn’t even get a feed from the stations!”

He took a long breath. “It is the recommendation of the American Government that you reinforce Poland so that you actually have something in position to react when the Russians decide that the Ukrainian elections are tilted against them and come over the border,” he said, as calmly as he could. “For what it is worth, the American Government has also agreed to offer EUROFOR access to the direct feeds from the stations, if EUROFOR would like to take them up on the offer!”

There was a moment’s pause. “That would be quite welcome,” Trautman said. “In fact…”

“There is no intelligence to suggest that the Russians intend to do anything other than abide by the election results,” Guichy said. He nodded to a young carrot-topped man. “Major?”

Major Nekropher O'Mans, of EUROFOR Intelligence, shook his head. “There have been no reports that the Russians have dire intentions towards the Ukraine,” he said. “They actually played quite an important role in getting the Swedes into position, providing some help with transport and intelligence to prevent some of the factions from starting a civil war. A civil war is hardly in their interests.”

“I hope you’re right,” Fanaroff said. He unlocked the chip and passed it over to O'Mans. It had puzzled him that an Irishman had been appointed to EUROFOR Intelligence; the French or British had much more capable intelligence agencies and far more contacts to draw on. “That is the information we have been able to gather, Major; I hope that you are able to disprove the conclusion, but… I have a nasty feeling that you’re wrong.”

He saluted them and left the room; Saundra was waiting outside, skilfully deflecting the escort’s attempts to chat her up. The escort passed her his email and telephone number before escorting them back outside the building, into the warm sun. Brussels was lovely in spring, apart from the new buildings; they had been built to a standard where taste didn’t apply.

She tossed the note away as soon as she was outside. “Sir, how was it?”

Fanaroff looked back at the EUROFOR HQ. “They’re all doomed,” he said. He ignored her astonished questions. “Come on, we have to get back to the Embassy; I need a stiff drink.”