The War Cloud

37

Marshall had assumed his command post in the battle staff compartment and was reviewing his NSTL targets in China on his digital tablet when Major Banks beeped him.

He ignored the interruption. That he could reprioritize targets with a simple drag and drop on a handheld touch-screen display was something he never would have imagined even five years ago. Harney and Wilson, meanwhile, were establishing the SIOP operations plan with 50 ground-based launch control centers that controlled more than 300 Minuteman III nuclear missiles.

Banks beeped him again. He saved his screen and spoke into the comm.: “You’re patching me to our B-2s with the Mavericks, Major?”

His hope was that President Sachs would finally use the simplest strategy he had gift-wrapped for her: the decapitation of the Chinese high command with the Maverick bunker-busters, followed by the swift threat of nuclear annihilation to any successors.

“I’ve got AF1 on line,” she said instead, her voice hard and edgy. “Colonel Kozlowski is asking for Colonel Quinn.”

Marshall noted several of the battle staffers, not part of his team, exchange glances before they got back to their work. He was playing for two audiences now. “Put him through on speaker.”

“Here he is, sir.”

Marshall pressed the button. “Marshall here. Has the president assessed the damage yet from the Alaska and Omaha hits, Colonel Kozlowski?”

“She’s reviewing them now, sir.”

Marshall nodded. “Then why are we talking?”

“The president would like to speak with your second, sir. Colonel Quinn. The roster says he holds the second launch key.”

“Quinn is busy,” Marshall said. “So am I. We’re trying to re-establish links with several launch control sites that lost contact with Strategic Command. Those boys are in the dark and might launch if we can’t reach them.”

“That is a grave situation, General Marshall, and I will report it to the president. Nevertheless, launch authority for ground missiles has been transferred to Looking Glass. We must ensure procedures—”

Marshall said, “The Chinese have nuked Washington and SAC headquarters. Now you want to quote regulations to me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Marshall said, “Listen to me, Colonel. We have a commander-in-chief who can’t pull the trigger. I need you. America needs you. The people of China, the real Chinese, need you. Are you on board?”

“Of course, sir.”

Marshall said, “Then quit clogging secure channels. I’ll reconvene with the president at the attack conference in six minutes. Over.”

Marshall disconnected Kozlowski and hit his comm. “You catch that, Major?”

Banks’ voice said, “Yes, sir.”

“Clear skies,” Marshall said, and looked at Harney and Wilson, who had already drawn their M9 side-arms with silencers and began firing, taking out half the battle staffers while the others scrambled, too stunned to figure out what was going on. Banks got them on her way in and then sealed the compartment shut behind her, breathless.

Marshall, disturbed that a bullet ricochet had nicked his forearm with a red skid burn, hit the comm again. “Cockpit now,” he said, and another communications tech upstairs put him through to Captain Delaney.

Delaney said, “General Marshall, sir.”

Marshall knew he couldn’t hide everything from the Looking Glass crew, but he could spin it just enough to give him the time he needed. He had trained them all at one time or another, but he couldn’t include them in his plans. He was counting on personal loyalty and the cloud of war to bridge whatever cognitive dissonance was going through their minds.

“I want you and Rogers to seal off the cockpit, Captain,” Marshall said. “Launch control from Offutt has been transferred to Looking Glass, and we’ve had gunfire here in the battle staff compartment. You know the procedures. Take us down to 18,000 feet and extend the VLF antenna. We need to establish links with both our underground launch centers and our submarines. No line-of-sight communications, not even AF1 for the time being. We can’t reveal our location to enemy aircraft. If we are engaged, prepare to deploy all countermeasures at my orders.”

“Copy that,” the pilot said. “Over.”

Marshall stared at the only three officers still standing in the compartment — Banks, Wilson and Harney. Only Banks had broken a sweat.

“A bit early, sir?” she asked.

“Sachs is on to us,” he said and removed the two keys around his neck.