Marshall Brent motioned to the President, who passed the photograph to him. He examined it quickly.
“I assume your experts analyzed this photo for you, General?” Brent asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Because to the untrained layman’s eyes, this could be a photograph of anything,” Brent said. “Any satellite. An aircraft.”
“But it’s not—”
“It could even be faked?” Brent was testing, which he considered his job.
“Do you want me to send a Shuttle full of U.N. members up with Brownies to take snapshots?”
Brent started to reply but was cut off by the President. “General, I think I believe your analysis,” the President said unhappily. “But who is going to believe such a thing exists? And we risk much by accusing the Soviet Union of murder ...”
The President turned to Kenneth Mitchell. “Kenneth, you said you had information on that site. Can you give it to me now?”
“Yes, sir.” The Director of the CIA nodded to an aide, who stood nervously and faced the President.
“Analysis of data from the missing RC-135 aircraft as well as information obtained from the Lawrence has been completed. Much of it is still speculative, sir.”
“Go on, ” the President said irritably.
“Most of our analysis centers around the nuclear power facility, sir. They have built what appears to be a five hundred megawatt facility in the middle of nowhere, without any associated power transmission facilities such as transformers or transmission towers nearby. Therefore, the power plant is at the exclusive disposal of the complex itself. The complex is located on the northeast corner of the Kamchatka peninsula, in what used to be a small fishing village. Its small supply airfield was rebuilt into a full-scale military airfield, originally for construction supply but now used as a headquarters for the site’s defenses. About ten thousand people live in the area, civilian and military.”
The aide shifted nervously as all eyes focused on him. “The intelligence vessel Lawrence has provided valuable data on the energy blasts reported from the complex, and we have concluded that a laser blast of approximately two to three hundred megawatts could have caused the electronic interference reported in the area and could indeed have sufficiently damaged both the Alpha Omega satellite and the Javelin missile. The power of the tracking radar could only have come from the nuclear power plant.”
“Weren’t we watching the construction of the facility?” the President asked. “How could they build something of this magnitude and then spring it on us so suddenly? Why were we so surprised?”
“CIA and DIA have been watching the construction of Kavaznya for four years, sir,” Mitchell said, “but. .. well, to tell the truth, sir, we really didn’t think too much of their activities there. It has been impossible to get informants anywhere near the complex. We had noticed activity akin to weapons experiments or construction there, so we pegged it simply as a new weapons research facility. The powerful radar wasn’t found until the RC-135 mission. We never imagined—we had no idea that the Russians were building an antisatellite or antiballistic-missile laser there.”
“Are we really that arrogant,” the President said to everyone in the room. “If the Americans can’t do it, nobody can. Is that it?”
Mitchell was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat and nodded to his aide to continue. The President didn’t let him.
“So we are decided,” the President asked, “that there exists a powerful antiballistic-missile laser device at this Kavaznya complex?”
Mitchell glanced at Preston, then at Curtis. “The data seems all but conclusive, Mr. President.”
“Goddamn,” the President murmured, then nodded at Mitchell’s aide: “Go on.”
“As I’ve said, the Soviets have constructed a huge power plant exclusively for use by the killer laser. They can easily pump over three hundred megawatts into their laser, and they can continue to do so shot after shot. We believe, once they’ve worked the kinks out—and it won’t be long now—that they can fire the laser at full power twice every second. Potentially, over a hundred satellites a minute.”
“Or ICBM warheads,” the President said.
“That’s only a projection, sir,” Mitchell interjected. “Hitting a geosynchronous satellite is a relatively easy trick. Besides, the Omega was only blinded—the Air Force had to push it into the atmosphere themselves because it was out of control and they were trying to retrieve it intact if possible. That means the laser is not as powerful as we originally believed.
“And the Midgetman missile was only slightly damaged by the laser. We had to abort it,” Mitchell continued. “As a matter of fact, we don’t agree with General Curtis that the laser caused the missile to malfunction. There are a number of things that could have caused a premature third stage ignition—”
“The laser could easily have caused it to malfunction,” Curtis said.
“General, I agree it could,” Mitchell said, raising a hand. “But that’s your conclusion—not the CIA’s. Finding and hitting an ICBM warhead is infinitely more difficult than finding and hitting these other targets we’ve been talking about. The Omega the Soviets downed is several times larger than an ICBM warhead, and it was stationary. The Midgetman is another huge target, easily tracked and disabled. Besides, it was alone—a retaliatory American ICBM strike would involve hundreds of missiles and thousands of warheads. The laser might tag a few, but not many. Certainly not enough to justify the huge expense of that complex.”
“What about the RC-135?” Curtis asked.
“The most vulnerable of all the targets,” Mitchell said quickly. “Slow- moving, large, and the closest to the site. And that’s if the RC-135 was downed by the laser—that hasn’t been proved yet.” Before Curtis could object, Mitchell quickly added: “Although the CIA believes there’s more than enough information to conclude that it was.”
The President shook his head. “The nuclear power plant, the laser facility, the radar, and the laser cannon. All in one tiny fishing town on the Kamchatka peninsula ...”
“Along with two squadrons of MIG-27 Fulcrums, a squadron of MIG-25 Flogger Gs, two SA-10 surface-to-air missile sites, possibly two antiaircraft artillery sites, and early-warning radar picket ships patrolling the coast when the ice breaks up,” Mitchell added. “A seagull can’t get close to that site without the Soviets spotting it.”
The President’s frustration was etching deep furrows in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes, and he tried to massage the pain out of both. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” U.N. Ambassador Adams said, standing. “The United Nations Security Council session. When I accused the Soviets of firing a laser at the recon plane, Karmarov lost his usual cool and jumped down my throat denying it. But the official Soviet position remains the same—they maintain the right to protect their shores and deny launching a missile or ordering a fighter to attack the RC-135. They never specifically denied shooting it down with a laser—”
“That’s because the idea is so unbelievable,” Mitchell said, echoing the President’s earlier comment. “Our Strategic Defense Initiative was called Star Wars for a reason—it was meant as a futuristic, long-range plan. We never expected to have an operational system before the turn of the century—it’s even more incredible that the Soviets would have one.”
“Yet the evidence unfortunately points to the contrary,” Marshall Brent said. “Mr. President, I must add my concern to that of Gregory. I have met with Ambassador Karmarov myself—”
“You did?” the President asked, surprised. “When? I never heard anything about it.”
“I went to his residence quite unannounced,” Brent said. “It had the desired effect—Karmarov lost his famous poker face. He all but admitted . . . he’d deny it, of course . . . that such a defensive laser device existed. I believe our meeting resulted in the Soviet’s face-saving decision to enter into a ‘mutual’ investigation.”
“Wh
ich has never taken place,” Curtis said. “They lied to us from the beginning.”
Brent paused, then crossed in front of the President’s desk and faced him. “Karmarov mentioned another important point, sir: If it is proven to the world that the anti-satellite laser exists, the Soviets can also prove that such a device does not violate any international treaty or agreement. It is not a space-based system like our Ice Fortress system, which violates the 1982 De-Militarization of Space Agreement; nor is it a violation of any ABM treaty, since neither the 1972 agreement or its 1976 amendment mention ground-based laser systems—the idea of activating such a site was many times more implausible fifteen years ago than it is today. The orbiting mirror may be a violation of the 1982 agreement—if we prove it exists, if we prove it is a mirror, and if we prove that it was used against an atmospheric or orbiting vehicle of another country—”
“But then they are guilty of murder,” Curtis said. “They should be convicted of murder. We should demand the dismantling of that laser site as minimal reparation for their crime.”
The Secretary of State shook his head. “We could never prove they downed the RC-135 reconnaissance plane, General,” Brent said. “Even if we had conclusive evidence that they used their laser system to destroy a satellite and the Javelin missile, we could never prove, or convince, that they turned that laser on an unarmed aircraft. It’s just too provocative an act to be believed.”
There was silence in the President’s office for a long time. No one wanted to speak. Each could feel a transition taking place. It was the awful transition from disbelief and even outright denial of what had occurred, to now facing the realization that the weight of damning evidence dictated that something had to be done.
“We need options, gentlemen,” the President said finally.
“There is only one option, sir,” Adams said. “The Soviets must deactivate that laser complex.”
“They have absolutely no reason to do that, Gregory,” Brent said quickly. “As I said before, there is no agreement between our countries prohibiting a ground-based defensive laser device.”
“It sure as hell isn’t just a defensive device, Marshall.”
Brent held up a hand. “Please, Gregory. What would you argue if you were in the Soviet’s shoes? Tracking error, technical malfunction, even errors in judgment on the part of some obscure bureaucrat. The bureaucrat is fired, heads roll, and the site remains open—”
“And a threat,” Curtis put in. “They have already seriously crippled our intercontinental ballistic missile warning capability.” He turned to the President. “Sir, the Soviets may claim it’s not an offensive weapon, but as long as it’s active it can always be used as one. What if they accidentally start shooting down satellites all over the hemisphere? They may agree to pay for the ones they accidentally destroy, but we’re still out the satellites and the vital surveillance information they provide.”
“And if they have the capability to knock down ICBMs as well . . the President muttered.
“They can easily neutralize one-third of our land and sea-based missiles,” Curtis said. “And when our bombers try to attack, they can take pot shots at them. Hell, even turning on that radar of theirs is enough to scramble the electronics of any aircraft in the area—”
“All right,” the President interrupted. “Damn it, you make it sound like a preemptive strike is our only option.” He looked angrily at the men around him, settled on the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.
“General Curtis,” the President asked slowly, carefully, “what is the status of your project at Dreamland?”
“Currently deactivated, per your order, Mr. President,” Curtis replied. “We wanted to avoid any possible provocation during what seemed a cooling off period.”
“But it can be reactivated immediately?”
“Certainly, sir,” Curtis replied. “I can see to it that the full team is reassembled.”
The President hesitated, then rapped his knuckles on his desk. “Then do it.”
General Curtis smiled and nodded, which ignited Marshall Brent.
“The very thought of considering a military option against the Soviets is crazy,” he said, his face reddening. “I’ve told you General—until current treaties and agreements are modified, that complex is perfectly legal. We may demand reparation for the hardware they destroyed—and I have no doubt, when confronted with the evidence, that they will pay a reasonable amount—but we have no legal reason to attack that site.”
“Reason? How about the lives of twelve innocent men and women aboard that RC-135, Mr. Brent?” General Curtis shot back. “That’s reason enough for me.”
“Marshall, I’ve authorized General Curtis to keep one special military option open—period,” the President said. “The time for discussion is rapidly running out. I want you to find a way to force the Soviets to deactivate that laser complex.”
If the Secretary of State felt any surprise at the enormity and sheer impossibility of that task, he did not show it—he merely nodded resolutely. “It will be difficult,” he said, “but it’s our best hope.” Maybe our only one, he added to himself.
“We can confront the Soviets with our information,” Gregory Adams said. “Present the evidence to the United Nations, as we did during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Force world opinion to turn against them. Convince the world that the destabilizing force of that laser system is a threat to everyone.”
“You’ve put it well, Gregory,” Brent said. “Exactly what we must do.”
“All right,” the President said hopefully. “I like it. Marshall, Greg, I’m counting on you. This can’t go any further. Make sure they know we mean business.”
“I have another option that may prod the Russians a bit faster toward a negotiated settlement,” Curtis said. The President’s smile disappeared. Marshall Brent glared at Curtis.
“Ice Fortress, ” Secretary of Defense Preston said. “Reactivate Ice Fortress. ”
“Or at least threaten to reactivate it,” Curtis added quickly.
“It’s out of the question,” Brent said. “The 1986 Arms-Reduction Treaty, which took us two long years to hammer out, strictly forbids Ice Fortress. If we bring it back, we are guilty of lying. Our credibility will go down the drain.”
“Ice Fortress is the only thing we have that can even begin to match up to that laser system,” Curtis argued. “Without it, we have nothing to bargain with. Why should the Russians agree to anything we want? Why should they shut down that site? Because we say, ‘pretty please?’ ”
“The Soviets won’t ignore us,” Brent said. “Gregory and I will confront them in the U.N. We’ll present the data you’ve received and challenge them to deny it. I believe that will be the last we’ll hear of any laser defense site.”
The President looked grim. “You’re right, Marshall,” he said slowly. “We hold off with any movement on Ice Fortress. It’s not an option. Not now.”
Marshall Brent looked relieved. “There will be a settlement, sir. We will end this.” And at the moment, he had managed to convince himself.
The President nodded, then swiveled around and stared wordlessly out the triple windows of the Oval Office as the others quietly filed out.
* * *
“Last item on the agenda before the New Year’s recess,” Ian McCaan announced before a regular meeting of the United Nations Security Council, “is a presentation by the American delegation on the progress of the ongoing investigation of the alleged loss of the American Air Force RC- 135 off the east coast of the Soviet Union. We are pleased to have in attendance the distinguished Secretary of State of the United States of America, Mr. Marshall Brent. Mr. Brent, please—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Secretary-General!” Karmarov interrupted, a shocked expression on his face. He half-rose out of his seat as Marshall Brent walked down the center aisle of the closed Security Council chamber. “Mr. Secretary-General, this . . .’’he fought for composure, “. . . I was not aware that this matter had be
en placed on the agenda. No one has consulted my office ...”
By this time Marshall Brent had reached the floor of the chamber, Greg Adams, the U.N. ambassador, had relinquished his scat to the Secretary of State and now sat behind and to his right. Brent held up a hand a smiled at the Soviet chief delegate.
“I’m afraid I am at fault, Mr. Karmarov,” Brent began. Karmarov’s protest died in midsentence, and he slowly lowered himself to his seat. “I have taken the liberty of invoking a little-used and rather esoteric regulation in the Security Council’s rules of order.
“A 1957 addendum to Article Thirty-nine of the Security Council’s Affairs of Conduct allows either side of any dispute before the Security Council to provide periodic progress reports of any council-ordered investigation. I have taken the liberty of putting together a report that I’m sure your fellow delegates will be most interested in—”
“Pardon me, Mr. Brent,” Karmarov interrupted again, even more forcibly this time. He bent over to Andrina Asserni, whispered a few words to her, and watched as she rushed out to an anteroom. “That matter is still under investigation. I know that little progress has been made, sir, but it is still fairly early—”
“That’s right, Mr. Ambassador,” Brent said. “But a status report is still allowed. I’m sorry Miss Asserni was called away to double-check the article, but its validity here has already been examined and approved by the Central Steering Committee.” Karmarov looked at Ian McCaan, who nodded.
“Apparently, Mr. Karmarov,” McCaan said, “the Soviet secretary on the Steering Committee did not notify you. The request is in order. Of course, you will have an opportunity to add any remarks you wish.”
Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 01 Page 17
