Onslaught

by David Poyer

  “Are we striking back?” Diane Rehm pressed.

  “I can confirm that we are. Beyond that, I can’t comment.”

  “You can’t because we aren’t,” Blair told the radio. Every attempt by Congress to police the private sector, even get them to share information about cyberattacks, had been defeated by an unholy alliance of industry lobbyists and NSA-haters. Americans had believed their government was spying on every e-mail, every cell conversation. Not only that, but “countervalue cyberwar,” as it was called at DoD, was illegal under international treaty … so the U.S. had been restricted to defensive measures. There were probably contingency plans for taking down an enemy’s military networks, but that would be all.

  Unless, of course, some secret order had been issued. Which, with this administration, wouldn’t surprise her.

  The next segment was from Taipei, man-on-the-streets about how the confrontation with the mainland was affecting life there. An interview in a noodle shop. At a shrine. With an academic, who’d spent his life studying the PRC-Taiwan relationship. Turning up the volume, she listened carefully, brow furrowed.

  * * *

  JESSICA Kirschorn had come highly recommended. “The best,” everyone said. “Young. Hungry. Smart. You want to win, hire her.” But facing her across the table at the Silver Diner, Blair had to admit that the principal at Kirschorn Associates didn’t look the part. Corkscrewed ringlets of lavender-dyed hair cascaded onto a soft-looking pink sweater. Rocket-and-planet earrings dangled from multiple piercings. Her nose, too, sported several perforations, each marked with a silver ball. Her makeup was heavy on the purple and black. They discussed the service on the Metro, which Kirschorn had taken in, and ordered—avocado turkey burgers. Then Kirschorn flipped open a binder. “Know you’re busy, but we gotta cover several issues. The campaign’s up and running, but we need to discuss strategy. First, the voter aspects. Then I’ll go over fundraising, advertising, and message development. Finally, we need to talk about your debate schedule. Okay, before I start, anything on your mind?”

  “Just that I don’t think I’ll have much spare time.”

  A flash of widened green eyes. The same trick, Blair reflected, she herself used to convey that she was giving someone her full attention. “Ms. Titus, you can’t phone in a campaign these days. Unless you’re, like, a six-term incumbent. Beiderbaum’s showing unexpected strength. This will not be a shoo-in.”

  “I know that, I’m sorry.… What have you got for me?”

  Kirschorn started with the “ground game,” as she called it: how she and her assistants, along with the local party, were targeting voters, where the databases came from, how the door-to-door, phone, and direct-mail canvassing was going. “In general, voters are reacting with interest, but also with a level of anxiety I’ve never seen before.”

  “No wonder.” Blair told her about the riot at the mall. “Full-blown looting. The police arrived just as we were leaving. But I know what you mean. When people can’t access their accounts, they can’t buy food. Or pay bills. When they can’t buy gas, they can’t drive to work. And when the power goes out too—”

  “They panic.” Kirschorn bit voraciously into her burger. Chewed.

  “Correct.”

  “Oh yeah … We picked up a volunteer who says she knows you. A marine, I believe. Wants in. Margaret Shingler? Sound familiar?”

  Blair’s heart sank. “Um, yes. She’s … well organized.”

  “Seems devoted to you.”

  “Maybe too much so.”

  “Oh.” Kirschorn widened her eyes again. “Don’t tell me any more.”

  “There isn’t any more. She was my aide at DoD. That’s all.”

  “Well, that’s good … we can play to this, Blair. A ten-second ad targeting that free-floating fear. Tying the war to the administration, and painting Beiderbaum as a tool of the president. A warmonger.”

  Blair touched her ear, then forced her hand away to the sweet potato fries. “I’m not coming out against the war. I told you that. This president’s as big an idiot as they say, but I don’t believe it’s in our best interest to show weakness now. Not to the Zhang regime.”

  “It closes off a good avenue of attack.”

  “Nevertheless, I don’t want to go there,” Blair said again, more firmly this time.

  Kirschorn made a note. “Okay, but you’re taking away my ammo—”

  How many times did this woman need to hear no? “No, I said!”

  The girl shrugged, the mauve curls bouncing. “I getcha. But in that case, I’m gonna propose something you may not like.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Your opponent came out last year. Out of the closet, I mean. But Beiderbaum’s party base isn’t exactly gay-friendly. It’d have to be done with a light touch. Maybe by someone else, not you. But there’s yardage to be gained.”

  Blair loathed football metaphors, but they seemed as unavoidable in politics as in the military. “You’re right, I don’t feel good about it. How would we approach that, without losing votes on our own side?”

  “The spin? That’s easy. As a state legislator, he voted against gay marriage. Four times. At the least, that shows he’s untrustworthy.”

  “That was years ago, right? The numbers were against it then. He was just voting his constituency.”

  Kirschorn blinked, regarding her over her burger as if encountering some alien life-form. “Blair? We don’t have to believe any of this. These are his weak points. You don’t think, any dirt he can dig up on you, or even make up, he’s not gonna use it? We peel five percent of his base away on any of these issues, you win.”

  Blair picked at her fries. The meat in the burger looked underdone, revolting. Her hip hurt. She checked her watch. She needed to wrap this up and get over to SAIC. Maybe the kid was right. She said reluctantly, “See what you can develop. But I want approval before we release it.”

  “Thatsa girl.” Kirschorn grinned. “Okay, next. Your debates. Everybody I know is cutting them. People aren’t going to drive to see them. We can do a radio thing.”

  “We had a commitment. At the junior college.”

  “We had four commitments. I recommend canceling them all.”

  “I promised Heather at the League we’d make it.”

  “Unpromise her.”

  Blair threw down her napkin. “Jessica, let’s get something straight. You’re my manager. But I’m still the candidate. I don’t want to have to tell you everything three times to make it stick. I believe we have to win this war. Or at least, fight. And I’m going to do a debate at the community college! Set it up with Beiderbaum’s people.”

  Kirschorn tilted her head. The rockets tinkled to a microscopic shrug. “You da boss. But if you want my advice, Blair, better get a lot more flexible, if you really want to win this thing.”

  * * *

  THE headquarters was in Tysons Corner, on Leesburg Pike. Fourteen floors of colorless concrete, with the white-and-blue corporate logo out front. She turned into the garage, found her spot, slipped on her heels, and clicked toward the elevator.

  In the twenty-first century, with the exception of the Congressional Research Service, the U.S. government did little policy research. Science Applications International was one of the largest and most influential think tanks. Founded during the Nixon administration, it specialized in analysis and recommendations to policymakers, mainly in defense, intelligence, homeland security, and energy. A lot went on in the building she didn’t know about—it was huge, and there were scores of satellite offices around the world—but she knew the company as almost a shadow government.

  Seen in retrospect, this hadn’t been an unremarkable step in her career. From the staff of the CRS, to adviser to Bankey Talmadge; eventually, adviser to the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. The last president had met her at a speech to the National Guard Association, invited her to serve on his transition team, then appointed her undersecretary of defense for personnel and readines
s. But then they’d lost the election.

  She’d been at home, in Maryland, sleeping late. Queekie had brought in the phone. “This sounds important,” she’d said.

  “Oh, hi. Blair? Chagall Henri here. We worked together on Albania. On their force restructuring?”

  Blair had blinked, trying to keep from sounding sleepy. “Oh … Hello, Shaggy. Yes, of course I … I remember you. RAND, right?”

  “Close. SAIC.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “That’s all right. Hope you don’t mind me calling. Bill Galina mentioned you might be looking for a position. Until the next election.”

  He mentioned a number that made her stifle a gasp. Three times what she’d been making as undersecretary.

  “Plus fringes, and a percentage of any contracts you bring in. Are you there, Blair?”

  “Oh yes, sorry … Chagall … I’m right here.” She sipped water. “That’s a generous offer. Though I really am not actively looking, but … what precisely did you have in mind?”

  “Well, Blair, as you know, unlike some of the other folks in the field—Cato, Heritage, Center for Progress—we’ve always been nonpolitical. Or maybe a better word, bipartisan. The most effective solutions, regardless of party. You struck me as one of the more pragmatic, knowledgeable people I’ve worked with.

  “Think you’d like to come in, see what we’re doing? You’d be advising on the highest-level issues. Most of the folks who cover these areas, here, came from senior positions—the Hill, the Joint Chiefs, the White House. We could really use someone who has her fingers in personnel and readiness policy. There’s a manpower crunch coming our way. We have to figure out how to meet it. Without going to the draft, which we’re hearing is a possibility, and you have a background in technology development, too.”

  “They can’t be serious. It’d take months even to scrub down the rosters—”

  “See, that’s why we need you. We have plenty of generals, retired congressmen, but nobody who can put their finger on recruitment through retirement, force levels, skill sets, expansion. We’d start you as a business unit general manager. In a year or two, we can discuss a vice presidency. And think about anybody you’d like to bring with you.”

  The road led the other way, too. People went from SAIC to principal undersecretaries, secretaries of the services, other senior positions. A motorized revolving door between it and the government proper.

  “Give me a week or two, Shaggy,” she’d said at last. “I’ll come in, and we’ll talk.”

  * * *

  THE typical meeting room, though larger than she’d expected, with a three-color projector jutting from the overhead and a staffer fussing with a laptop. Two dozen attendees, by the time a uniformed guard drew the doors closed. Blair found a chair that reclined, so she could ease her hip; sitting for long periods quickly became excruciating.

  They went around the table, introducing themselves. A lot of heavy hitters, including a retired chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee. The only other woman besides Blair was a smooth-faced, petite Asian of perhaps a well-preserved sixty, with short, blunt-cut black hair. She wore a tailored blue suit and heavy gold bracelets and earrings. Blair knew most of them by reputation, and had met many with Talmadge or during her time at the Pentagon. There were generals, of course, and intelligence analysts. Foreign Service experts, a political science professor from Stanford, and executives from Boeing and Google. The last-named was younger than the rest and seemed nervous, fiddling with his cell. She leaned over and whispered, “You need to turn that off during classified briefings.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s not working, anyway. My first time at one of these things.”

  A small, balding, gray-suited man stood, taking charge with a glance around the room. He supported himself with a cane. “Good afternoon. I’m Haverford Tomlin. Some of you know me as the former head of StratCom—Strategic Command. Up to now, I’ve been working with the targeting folks, but I’ve been asked to chair this committee as well.

  “Today we’re discussing an emergent tasking for SAIC Strategic Plans and Policy Division. Of course, our discussions here, and even what we’re discussing, will be top secret, special access. That includes any notes you may take, which will stay here. Along with the Air Force, we’ll be working with StratCom, the Joint Chiefs J-5 shop, the policy shop—maybe some interaction with the operational shop, too. But as you can imagine, they’re tied up with current developments right now. Our job is to look further ahead.

  “But first, a history lesson.”

  A slide, in old-fashioned Courier font, headed WAR PLAN ORANGE in all caps and underlined. “In 1941, we had a clear plan as to how we’d win the next war.” The next slide showed arrows marching across the Pacific. But the photo after that showed burning battleships. Columns of smoke. Rows of wrecked, shot-up bombers. “God laughed. We lost most of the Army Air Forces and the Pacific Fleet in the Philippines and at Pearl Harbor. It took months to decide on a new strategy”—more arrows, curving this time, and flashes indicating battles—“and years to regenerate forces to implement it. Meanwhile, thousands of Americans suffered and died in prison camps when we had to leave them behind.

  “We’d like to fast-track that process this time.

  “Our forces are now facing a holding action in the inner island ring. Prior to the commencement of actual hostilities, we drew down Chinese surveillance systems, sensors, and computer networks. That’s where our cyberwar efforts were targeted too. So far, we seem to have been reasonably effective in degrading their air defenses and over-the-horizon targeting.”

  Tomlin looked toward the window, which was covered with a pinholed, silvery anti-eavesdropping screen. “Despite calls from Taiwan and Korea, we’ve not yet attacked the People’s Republic land-based ballistic or cruise missile infrastructure. In fact, we haven’t laid a single warhead or bomb on the mainland.”

  “The counterpunch through the South China Sea? Taking out the fortified islands, Fiery Cross Reef, the Spratlys?” One of the admirals, Blair guessed, though no one was in uniform.

  “Ongoing, but we’re not seeing a force shift to counteract it. It’s as if they think it’s a distraction.

  “Unfortunately, our strategic options are limited. Obviously, we’re never going to conquer mainland China. They fought us to a standstill in Korea, and Zhang has a huge demographic advantage now. Specifically, almost two million more young men than the country has young women for—probably one driver for his expansionist policy.”

  The next slide read

  * * *

  Briefing Is Classified

  (TOP SECRET/SACHEL ADVANTAGE/IRON NOOSE)

  OPLAN 5081

  CHINA

  * * *

  Tomlin cleared his throat, glanced at some notes, then went on. “JCS Op Plan 5081 reflected the conventional view of how this would play out. We would neutralize assets that threatened the inner island chain, while our allies mobilized and we brought up additional battle groups and air assets from the States and Mideast.

  “After slamming the gates, we’d wait. When they came out, we’d have the buildup in place to make the East and South China Seas and the Sea of Japan into kill zones. Meanwhile, the U.S. is self-sufficient in both food and energy. But China has to import both. We estimated they’d run out of oil in three months and food in six. That would add rationing and spot starvation onto inflation, unemployment, and heavy force attrition. The regime would either fall, or be forced to the conference table.”

  Tomlin looked down. “What did Napoleon say? ‘No plan survives contact with the enemy.’ We did break the kill chain, degrading space and cyberspace assets. We’re also undertaking some major intelligence initiatives, which I can’t discuss. And we have succeeded, largely, in penning in their sub force, while ours is taking down any warships that venture out. But the deep strikes in the initial plan have been canceled.

  “Meanwhile, the enemy’s pursued an asymmetrical strategy.
This included major efforts in anti-access and area denial, along with degrading and compromising our own C4I. In addition, you know about the cyberattacks and other sabotage against the continental U.S. They’ve crippled our economy and struck at civilian morale, as well as industry.

  “But their major effort has been focused on the battlespace around and above Taiwan, and the Japanese waters and airspace flanking it. They’ve managed to degrade U.S. forces there, with mines, runway accidents, and sabotage. Our air assets have been particularly overloaded. We’re burning fuel and crew hours conducting a mission we haven’t done for a long time—basic overwater reconnaissance.

  “The Navy’s trying to hold against overwhelming force, conduct barrier operations to prevent a breakout into the Pacific, and deter any invasion of Taiwan. The Army’s preparing, if necessary, to withdraw those U.S. force elements that still retain their mobility in Korea.”

  Tomlin straightened. “Now—Ms. Clayton. What do we have on our enemy?”

  The Asian stood, and finally Blair recognized her: a senior member of the De Bari administration; Dan had worked under her in the West Wing. Clayton gave a passionless briefing in a High Boston accent. “The plan for a cross-strait invasion is called Operation Breath of the Dragon. They’re prepared for heavy losses. Success would depend on the Taiwanese air force and navy being heavily degraded first.

  “That is, assuming that the Republic of China decides to fight, rather than arrive at some more or less disguised capitulation. Which is a possibility, especially if they lose confidence in our ability to support them.”