Wall of Night

64

“How many ships in the SAG?” Mason asked.

An hour before, the commander of the Stennis group, Commodore Scott, reported a Surface Action Group of Russian warships steaming north toward the group’s picket ships, while Cheyenne, patrolling ahead of the group, was engaged in a game of cat and mouse with a Russian Akula.

“We’re still trying to identify the individual elements,” Cathermeier replied, “but according to the most recent flyover, it looks like a good chunk of the Russian Pacific Fleet — might be as many as eighteen warships, from Krivak-class frigates to Kirov cruisers.”

“How much distance between them and us?”

“Less than ninety miles.”

“Too close. If somebody pushes the panic button, they could be mixing it up in minutes.”

“The Sea of Japan just ain’t big enough for all that firepower,” Cathermeier agreed.

“What about the rest of the Federation?” Dutcher asked. “How widespread is this alert?”

“Across the board. We’ve got reports of increased radio traffic in every district from Moscow to Vladivostok — all branches, from ground forces to rocket forces.”

“Tactical or nuclear?”

“Both. Leaves and furloughs are being cancelled; interceptors are sitting hot on runways at Chita, Ulan-Ude, Irkutsk, and Vladivostok; they’re also putting up BARCAPs along the border,” Cathermeier said, referring to Barrier Combat Air Patrol; once a navy-specific term, it had become a generic description of any airborne line of defense.

“What about the Chinese?” Mason asked

“Mirror image,” said Cathermeier. “We haven’t seen much ground movement, but every air base in the Beijing and Shenyang military regions is on full alert — same with the First, Fifth, and Twenty-Third Army Groups nearest the Mongolian salient.”

“Where exactly?”

Cathermeier turned to the watch officer. “Put up a topographical map of Heilongjiang.” The major tapped his keyboard and a map appeared on the screen. Using a laser pointer, Cathermeier traced the Chinese-Mongolian border as it swept upward, forming a bulge into Siberia. “The First, Fifth, and Twenty-third all have their bases in this area south of the Hinggan Mountains.”

“That makes sense,” Mason muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“The shale oil deposits Skeldon mapped start north of Hinggans, just inside the border.”

“Well, if that’s going to be their penetration point, then they’ve got a tough job ahead of them,” Cathermeier replied. “Just getting there by ground would take four days, which would give the Russians time to shift. If that’s their plan, it’s flawed.”

Mason considered this. “How would you do it?”

Cathermeier chuckled. “I wouldn’t.”

“If you had to.”

“I’d have to give it some thought, but I’ll tell you this: I’d make damned sure I had surprise on my side. The Russian’s know how to defend their soil.”

“The Chinese have to know that,” Dutcher said.

“You’d think so.”

They talked for a few minutes more, then Mason led them into the Tank and shut the door.

“Any word from Tanner or Cahil?”

“Nothing from Ian and nothing from Briggs since his last message,” Dutcher replied. “If he hasn’t been captured, he’s probably still en route to the camp.”

“I hate to say it, but I don’t think we should count on either of them. We have to move now. Martin’s not going to back down; he’s watching a war unfold before his eyes and he’s still more worried about covering his ass.”

“When do you want to do it?”

“Tonight. I’ll call Lahey.”

​It was past midnight when the knock came at Ivan Nochenko’s door. He got up, threw on his robe, and peered through the peephole. Standing in the hall were Sergei Fedorin and Marshal Beskrovny. Both wore street clothes. Nochenko unlocked the door and opened it.

“May we come in?” Beskrovny said.

“Yes, of course.”

They stepped inside and Nochenko gestured toward the kitchen table. Fedorin and Beskrovny sat down. Something’s wrong, Nochenko thought. “What is it? Has something happened?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Fedorin said. “We’re hoping to stop something before it starts.”

“I don’t understand,” Nochenko said. That wasn’t entirely true; part of his brain knew why they’d come. “What are you talking about?”

Beskrovny said, “Ivan, you know President Bulganin better than anyone, yes?”

“I suppose so.”

“How does he seem to you?”

“He’s under a lot of stress, if that’s what you mean.”

“We’re all under stress,” Fedorin replied. “We’re more concerned with him.”

“He’s going through an adjustment period. This early in office, it’s to be expected — especially given the circumstances — the Chinese, the American battle group …”

“You’re not concerned?”

“Of course I’m concerned. Stop mincing words! Say what you came to say.”

Fedorin and Beskrovny exchanged glances. Beskrovny cleared his throat. “We feel the president is leading the country down a very dangerous path. We feel he’s … unbalanced.”

There it is, Nochenko thought. He felt a flash of anger, but before he could open his mouth to speak, the emotion was gone, replaced by a strange clarity. All the doubts and fears about Bulganin he’d been suppressing came back in a flood.

Unbalanced? Nochenko thought. Vladimir Bulganin was far beyond unbalanced. He’d known that for a long time. Not only known it, he thought, but ignored it. Maybe even helped it along.

And for what? Nochenko thought. For the challenge of it. Like some half-baked god, he’d been trying to create a king from a lump of clay, but instead he’d created a golem, a monster born of desire and vanity and delusion.

“Are you all right?” Beskrovny asked. “You don’t look well.”

Nochenko took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had to step carefully here. If Fedorin and Beskrovny were heading in the direction he suspected, his role as Bulganin’s chief advisor would be not only pivotal, but perilous.

“I’m fine,” Nochenko replied. “Let’s suppose you’re right. What do you propose?”

“That depends on what happens in the coming days,” said Fedorin. “If he continues on the same course, our options become limited. Neither Victor nor myself can refuse his orders — not without being dismissed.”

“Which he would do without hesitation.”

Beskrovny nodded. “And then appoint more … pliable men in our places. That’s the rub, you see. Whatever is behind this business with China and all the rest of it, we haven’t seen the worst of it. Events are not going to slow down and wait for Bulganin to get his house in order.”

“In other words, while he’s sacking you, the missiles are flying.”

“That’s a very real possibility.”

And if the missiles do start flying, Nochenko thought, the country is going to need men like Fedorin and Beskrovny. He wondered if that was part of their message to him: Your golem is out of control. We know what we‘re willing to do to save Russia. What about you?

“Tomorrow I’ll speak with him,” Nochenko said. “Perhaps he’ll rethink his stance.”

“Perhaps,” Marshal Beskrovny replied.

“And if he doesn’t?” Fedorin asked.

Your golem, Ivan.

“Then we’ll meet again and … discuss alternatives.”