Wall of Night

59

“Let’s have it,” President Martin snapped. “General, what the hell happened up there?”

“What happened, Mr. President, is what happens anytime you aim a battle group at another nation’s shores,” General Cathermeier replied. “They send out their ships and planes and it turns into a game of chicken. They were trying to warn us off — make sure we know they’re not pushovers.”

“By crashing into one of our planes? That’s absurd.”

The night before, a flight of four Russian Mig-31 Fulcrum fighters had come out and tried to buzz the battle group. That close to the Russian mainland, the group’s commander had been expecting the visit and ordered the group’s BARCAP — or Barrier Combat Air Patrol, in this case a pair of F-14 Tomcats — to intercept the intruders.

“At this point, it looks like an accidental bump,” Cathermeier said. “One of their pilots took it a little too far and misjudged his approach.”

“Not according to the Federation’s foreign minister,” Martin growled. “They’re claiming it was our fault! What the hell are they doing out there?”

He’s crumbling, Mason thought, seeing Martin with new eyes. Either the job was more than he’d bargained for, or he was starting to realize the deal he’d struck with the Chinese had been a terrible mistake. Mason suspected it was a combination of both. Martin had neither the temperament nor the character for the job.

Though Martin didn’t know it, Mason, Cathermeier, and Dutcher had decided this meeting was his last chance to fix the situation before they moved on him. Not that it would matter in the end, Mason knew. Whether it was now or weeks from now, Martin had to go.

As planned, Bousikaris was absent from the meeting, having ostensibly gone to the dentist with a cracked molar. Martin alone would seal his fate.

Mason said, “Mr. President, we have the option to pull the group back, slow it down.”

“No.”

“It would give the Russians room to breathe.”

“I said, no, dammit! Dick, I’m getting tired of repeating myself around you. I’m the commander in chief. I’ll decide when and if it’s time to move the battle group. Now, General, tell me about this business with the Chinese airliners. When did this happen?”

“During the night. As best we can tell, there were four aircraft in the group, all Russian-built Antonov An-12s — we call them Cubs. They’re troop and cargo transports designed—”

Martin rolled his hand. “Go on, go on.”

“About thirty minutes after the deadline expired, they lifted off from Hailar in northern China.”

“They didn’t waste any time, did they?”

“No, sir. According to the Chinese Foreign Ministry, the lead aircraft contacted Chita air control prior to crossing the border and identified the group as unarmed transports on an evacuation mission.”

“Evacuation? Of what?”

“Of the Chinese living in the Chita area, Mr. President. The Russians are claiming the opposite — that the planes never made contact and ignored repeated attempts to contact them.”

“Who’s lying? Dick?”

“No way to tell,” Mason replied, but thought, the Chinese, of course. “Any transcripts or recordings from either won’t be accepted by the other.”

“Go on, General.”

“Getting no response to their hails, Chita scrambled a pair of Mig-23 Floggers to intercept the flight About sixteen miles north of the border—”

“In Russian airspace,” Martin clarified.

“Correct. The Floggers joined on the Chinese Cubs. They tried to establish radio contact; failing that, one of them pulled alongside the lead Cub and tried to establish visual contact. Here’s where it gets fuzzy,” Cathermeier continued. “The Chinese claim the Floggers fired on them from behind, without any attempt to establish contact; the Russians claim the opposite, of course.

“Either way, there was an explosion on or near the one of the Cubs. It tipped over, went into a flat spin, and crashed.”

“From what altitude?”

“Twenty-five thousand feet. The Russians are looking for the site.”

“They won’t find much,” Mason said.

“No shit,” Martin replied. “Well, I’ve been on the phone all morning with State. The Chinese are screaming bloody murder, and their ambassador is on his way over here as we speak. What I want to know from you two is, where’s this going?”

It was a genuine question, Mason realized. Looking into Martin’s eyes, he saw uncertainty and fear. Whether the man understood his own role in the unfolding disaster, Mason wasn’t sure, but so far Martin was showing no signs of changing course.

Neither Mason nor Cathermeier answered Martin’s question.

“I want an answer, gentlemen. Where is all this going?”

Last chance, Mason thought. “Mr. President, it’s my opinion that the Chinese are not going to back down. Whether we’re seeing their true motives or not, I don’t know, but the fact that they moved so quickly after the deadline is telling.

“Their position will be clear: Russian negligence has killed thousands of Chinese citizens; every step of the way, the Federation has refused to work with them to remedy the situation; and now, they have attacked an unarmed, clearly identified group of transports sent on a goodwill mission to rescue Chinese citizens.”

“Which might all be true,” Martin said.

“Perhaps,” Mason countered, “but I don’t see it that way. As I said, it’s my opinion this is just part of a larger plan for the Chinese. They’re not going to back down until they get what they want, and they’ll do whatever it takes to get there.”

“To what end? What larger plan?”

Mason shrugged. “Bottom line, Mr. President: I have two recommendations. Remain neutral in this — both militarily and diplomatically. And two, do whatever it takes to get both sides to step back and take a breath before it’s too late.”

Martin looked to Cathermeier. “General?”

“I agree. If we don’t take steps to cool the situation, it’s going to escalate.”

Martin sighed heavily, then nodded. “That’s all gentlemen. Stay close to your phones.”

​The tirade had so far lasted twenty minutes and showed no signs of slowing.

From his chair, Ivan Nochenko watched Bulganin pace the room, one hand clasped behind his back, the other gesticulating wildly as he snouted.

Nochenko had seen him in such moods before, but this one had a different feel to it. Bulganin’s speech, his demeanor, the very inflection of his words had a disconnected quality to them, as though he were summoning them by rote from some corner of his brain.

Earlier this morning Bulganin had ordered Pyotr to double his personal guards and to search the staff’s belongings upon entry and exit of the building. Only at Nochenko’s intercession had Bulganin excluded he and the rest of the members of the National Security Council.

Pyotr now stood behind Bulganin’s desk, watching the room with a hawk’s eyes.

“Let us review,” Bulganin said. “Not only are the Americans threatening our coast with their ships, but they’ve put soldiers on our soil, destroyed a port, and now, just hours ago, they downed one of our aircraft in international air-space.”

Defense Minister Beskrovny spoke up. “We’re looking into that, Mr. President, but initially it appears to have been an accident.”

“Believe that if you like, Marshal,” Bulganin shot back. “What about the Chinese? It’s not enough they accuse us of murdering their citizens, but now they invade our airspace on a so-called rescue mission. What kind of aircraft were they, Marshal?”

“Antonov transports. Unarmed and empty, it appears.”

“So it appears,” Bulganin repeated. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they destroyed their own aircraft just to give themselves a reason.”

“A reason for what?” asked SVR director Sergei Fedorin.

“That’s what I want you to tell me! Do you have any answers?”

“Not yet, Mr. President.”

And understandably so, Nochenko thought. These incidents had occurred one on top of the next. There had scarcely been time to digest the information, let alone draw conclusions.

Even so, Nochenko was worried. Farfetched though it seemed, Bulganin’s statement about the Chinese planes couldn’t be discounted. All these events were related somehow; there was a pattern to them, but Nochenko had yet to piece it together. Coincidence is the mother of deception.

Moreover, the events seemed to be keeping pace with one another — disastrous stepping-stones leading toward some unknown goal. Whatever that was, a theme was emerging: provocation and escalation. But who is the provocateur? China or the U.S.? Or both?

Nochenko broke in: “Mr. President, I have a suggestion.”

“Go on.”

“There’s a trend of escalation going on. Whether intentional or unintentional, we can’t be certain, but we must choose our next steps carefully. The best course is to not feed the fire. Let Minister Kagorin contact the Chinese ambassador and—”

“And what?” Bulganin snapped. “Grovel? Show them we’re frightened? I don’t think so. Frankly, I’m surprised at you. We’ve been attacked] Am I the only one who sees that?”

Bulganin looked from man to man. “Am I alone in this, gentlemen? Do any of you care about the security of your country? If not, say so now, and I’ll find someone to replace you. Anyone?”

No one spoke.

“Good,” Bulganin said, then clasped his hands behind his back and stood tall. “Here are my orders: Minister Kagorin, you will contact the Chinese ambassador; we will give them one more chance to moderate their position. Director Fedorin, these events are connected. I want to know how and why. Marshal Beskrovny, until further notice, I want interceptors patrolling our border with China day and night. I want the American battle group stopped before it comes within one hundred miles of our shore. Finally, I want every Military District from here to Vladivostok brought to full alert — including the Rocket Forces.”

Beskrovny stepped forward, his face drawn. “Mr. President—”

“That’s an order,” Bulganin said.

“If we bring our nuclear forces to alert, the Chinese will reciprocate.”

“Let them. Perhaps it will scare some sense into them.”

Nochenko interrupted: “Vlad—”

Bulganin glared at him.

“Mr. President … Please reconsider.”

“I’ve made my decision. Marshal Beskrovny, are your orders clear?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“You will carry them out?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

Bulganin rapped his desk with a fist. “Good. You’re all dismissed.”