Asserni returned just then with her finger in a thick red leather-bound book. She whispered a few words to Karmarov, who narrowed his gaze and fixed it on Marshall Brent.
“The article you mentioned does not deal with the matter you wish to discuss,” Karmarov said, “and apparently gives little authority or justification for such a presentation. It is entirely out of order—”
“The nature of the presentation,” McCaan broke in, “and the subject matter convinced the Steering Committee to adapt the rules. Besides, Ambassador Karmarov, it is the last order of business for the Council and no other matters are scheduled until the spring. I’m sure the Council will be interested in the contents of this presentation.”
The Russian offered no resistance—in fact, his voice became a bit more apologetic. “The investigation has only been open less than a month ...”
“And yet it has gone nowhere,” Brent said immediately, his tone clipped but steady. “American requests for transcripts, ordinary transcripts of your military controllers on duty at the time of the loss of the RC-135 have been ignored. Similar requests by the International Civil Aeronautics Organization have also been ignored. According to ICAO convention, such transcripts are usually submitted to the parties involved in less than twenty-four hours.”
Karmarov staged his indignation. “I will personally investigate the incompetence of—”
“My office has already investigated the matter,” Brent said. “The Soviet Foreign Ministry advises me that the transcripts were turned over to your United Nations delegation.” Karmarov again was about to reply, but Brent held up a hand.
“I understand the situation, Mr. Ambassador,” Brent said in a forgiving tone. “The Foreign Ministry did advise me that your office has not had time to fully study the transcripts. Turning the transcript over to us before looking at them yourself wouldn’t make sense, I agree.”
“I beg the Council’s indulgence,” Karmarov said. “Pressing matters in my delegation and the last-minute flurry of activity prior to the New Year’s recess have delayed my study of those documents.”
“Of course, Mr. Ambassador,” Brent said. “The Foreign Ministry was kind enough to answer a few questions, though. I hope you at least have had an opportunity to glance at the transcripts so as to enlighten the Security Council on a few points.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Secretary, I—”
“The Foreign Ministry assures me that, although three MIG-29 fighter- interceptor aircraft were launched from Ossora Airfield on the northern Kamchatka peninsula near Kavaznya, they never closed with the so-called intruder aircraft. The RC-135 aircraft was allowed to fly toward the coast without being challenged. Mr. Ambassador, why in the world would the Soviets allow an unidentified aircraft to fly to within thirty-five miles of the coastline, within thirty-five miles of a top secret research installation, without being challenged by three interceptors assigned to pursue it?” Heads turned toward Karmarov. “Mr. Secretary,” Karmarov said through tight lips. “I cannot at this time answer—”
“The Foreign Ministry also reports that no efforts were made to reach the RC-135 on normal, internationally recognized emergency channels. Now, Mr. Ambassador, the Soviet Union launched three advanced interceptors out after an American aircraft it says was intruding into highly sensitive Russian airspace, yet never closed on the intruder. They obviously saw the aircraft—yet never tried to raise the aircraft by radio, never tried to warn it away. Why? Perhaps I can offer a reason,” Brent hurried on. At his signal, a rear-projection screen began to descend over the mural of “The Rise of the Phoenix” at the head of the Security Council chamber. Ambassador Adams pushed an electronic pointer into his hands and Brent stepped quickly toward the head of the circular Council table.
Flaring to life as Brent stepped up to a small podium at the head of the table, the screen showed several rows of words and numbers on the left and several bar graphs on the right.
“I will show the Council exactly what took place aboard that unarmed reconnaissance plane,” Brent began. “This is the exact, unedited position and status data transmitted from the RC-135 aircraft as it approached Kavaznya. It shows summaries of the aircraft’s performance and summaries of what the aircraft’s sensors were receiving.”
Brent hit a button on the console. A second slide appeared beneath the first, this one a map of eastern Asia centered on Kavaznya.
“To better understand the data presented on the left,” Brent said, “we will plot the location of the RC-135 aircraft on the map below. The bar graphs are readouts of electromagnetic energy levels outside the RC-135 aircraft. The graphs show levels of heat, visible light, radiation, transmitted energy, and polarized single-frequency light. All of the presentations have been time-synced to show exactly what was happening at each moment.”
The screens went into motion. “The RC-135 aircraft is one hundred and forty miles from Kavaznya when surveillance radars from Ossora Airfield north of Kavaznya begin to track it.” A circle appeared on the chart. “The circle represents the computer’s estimate of the range of the surveillance radar scanning the RC-135—the plane is well within that range.” The transmitted energy bar moved upward—all of the other graphs were motionless.
Brent motioned to the scrolling printout. “The RC-135 is now ninety miles from Kavaznya. It is still being tracked by surveillance radar, as shown by this line on the printout—standard India-band surveillance radar. I assume air defense forces have been alerted, but only the missing controller’s transcript can tell us this. Here ...” Brent pointed to the transmitted energy bar graph, “is where a new radar comes on. The plane is still over ten minutes from reaching land.
“See how much the energy level has increased? The printout confirms it... here. Frequency, carrier power, modulation—all significantly different, thousands of times more powerful than the ordinary surveillance radars.” A new circle appeared on the map, this one several times larger than the first.
“Mr. Secretary-General, I must protest this,” Karmarov said.
Brent stopped the scrolling display. “Mr. Karmarov, this presentation has been approved by the Steering Committee for presentation,” McCaan said. “What are the grounds for your objection?”
“This appears to be what Mr. Brent says it is,” Karmarov said, “but it can also be a clever forgery. Why, I can create such a grand display on my own computer.”
“If you are challenging the Steering Committee’s judgment,” McCaan said, “you must enter a protest with the Steering Committee—”
“But I have not yet had an opportunity to examine any of the evidence being presented.”
“The Steering Committee—”
“I know about the Steering Committee. But such a . . . jumble of information cannot be brought before the Security Council without—”
“It seems your objection is a procedural one, Mr. Karmarov,” McCaan said, “and as such I must overrule it. The admissibility of this data and the manner of its presentation has already been approved by the Security Council as per this body’s regulations. Mr. Brent, proceed.’’
The screen went into motion once again. “The RC-135 is now forty-two miles from shore.” Brent pointed at the readout on the left. The map magnified into a much larger scale of the Kavaznya area itself. The red line plotting the course of the RC-135 began to change. “It is here that the plane begins a right turn away from the coastline. As you can see, the transmitted energy scale has greatly increased. At the same time, all other radars in the area have been turned off—all but one. No India-band radars, only the much more powerful Lima band radar at Kavaznya.”
Brent turned to Karmarov. “Why, Mr. Ambassador, would your air defense operators turn off their radars with an intruder in the area? With three fighters airborne that rely on that radar for vectors to the intruder, why was it deactivated? Where are the fighters?”
Karmarov decided his only response was silence.
The screen froze. The bar graphs had all suddenly
pegged themselves at the top of their scales.
“Suddenly, here,” Brent said, “there is a massive explosion of transmitted energy, visible light, radiation, and polarized light.” The display began to move slowly. “The blast lasts for almost a full second. Gentlemen, the readout for polarized light is a readout of levels of visible light that meets very strict parameters. The light must be pure—one wavelength, one frequency, one direction. Polarized light.” He turned and looked at Karmarov. “Laser light. A laser on the order of two hundred megawatts has just been fired from Kavaznya.”
The scrolling continued, but the printout display on the left and the movement of the bar graphs halted for several minutes. “The data transmission was interrupted after the laser blast,” Brent said. “The tremendous amount of energy disrupts electronic circuits for hundreds of miles. Is that why there are no fighters in the area, Mr. Karmarov? A fighter near that laser blast would fall into the ocean.”
No reply from Karmarov.
A few moments later the stream of data returned. “As you can see,” Brent went on, “the levels of radiation and transmitted energy are still high. The bar graphs for polarized light and thermal energy have been removed. That is because that data was obtained from an Alpha Omega Nine reconnaissance satellite over Kavaznya. That satellite was destroyed by the laser blast.”
“Impossible,” came a voice from the Council table. The rumble of voices increased in volume.
“The crew aboard the RC-135, which is now almost ninety miles from shore, are probably already exposed to lethal doses of radiation, but they are still alive.”
One bar graph jumped. “Transmitted energy is increasing again,” Brent said. “The radar at Kavaznya is active again—searching for another victim.”
“Unfounded accusations,” Karmarov protested. “Mr. Secretary-General—”
“The Lima-band radar is at full power again.” Brent was no longer looking at the screen but directly at Karmarov, who stared at the data flowing on the screen. “There is a pulse-shift—the radar has locked onto the aircraft, an unarmed reconnaissance aircraft almost fifty miles from shore with ten men and two women aboard.”
The screen went blank, and the room went dark. Slowly, the lights were brought back up in the Council chamber.
“Without warning, with malice aforethought,” Brent said to Karmarov, “the Soviets disabled a satellite, then, trying to cover their first crime, turned that laser on an unarmed aircraft, killing twelve people.”
The chamber was silent. “In America, Mr. Ambassador, we call it murder in the first degree.” Brent turned and faced the Council members seated around him.
“Four days ago a test of a new intercontinental missile design was also attacked by the laser at Kavaznya. I will present the data when it becomes available. This time, the data was collected by a vessel anchored offshore from Kavaznya, and not by another satellite. Yet it will prove that not only has the Soviet Union used its new laser to attack another American vehicle, but that it used this. ” The lights were immediately lowered. Brent clicked a button again, and a magnified, computer-enhanced picture of Salyut Nineteen with the large rectangular mirror attached flashed on the screen.
“Salyut Nineteen, gentlemen,” Brent announced, “but with a new and frightening twist—a mirror used to bounce the laser beam to targets over the horizon from Kavaznya!” The murmur in the Council chamber became one of disbelief.
“I know you’re not going to respond to any of this, Mr. Ambassador,” Brent said, turning back to Karmarov. “You are going to request a video tape of this session, take it back to the Embassy, and talk it over with Moscow. Fine. But the United States requests the reinstatement of charges made back on November fifteenth. We charge the Soviet Union with premeditated murder, conspiracy to commit murder, piracy, perjury, and conspiracy to suppress evidence. We also charge violation of the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty with the deployment of the laser, the Lima- band radar used to steer the laser, and the Salyut Nineteen spacecraft refitted with a mirror for the reflection of laser beams with the purpose of destroying ballistic weapons. We call for the immediate dismantling of the Salyut Nineteen spacecraft and the closure of the entire Kavaznya complex until an on-site United Nations inspection can be made. We are also demanding reparations in the amount of five hundred million American dollars for the death of the American service personnel aboard the RC-135 aircraft and the loss of the RC-135 aircraft, the Alpha Omega Nine satellite, and the Javelin missile.”
He turned to the Security Council delegates. “I know that, despite our lofty ideals, justice meted by the United Nations is slow and sometimes ineffective. But the government of the United States considers the laser device and the orbiting mirror a major threat to its security, and we cannot, we will not, wait long for these devices to be disarmed.”
He turned again to Karmarov and raised his voice. “We give the Soviet Union three days to dismantle or render inoperative the Salyut Nineteen spacecraft. If it is not proved to our satisfaction that the Salyut Nineteen’s mirror is incapable of steering a laser beam projected from Kavaznya to an atmospheric or ballistic vehicle anywhere on the globe, we will assume that the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty and the 1986 Iceland Summit Arms Reduction Treaty are null and void and take appropriate steps to insure our national security.”
“And what steps are those?” Karmarov asked. “Will you go to war to back up your silly rhetoric, Mr. Secretary? Will you destroy civilization because of a baseless, insignificant, pie-in-the-sky threat?”
Brent turned to the Russian ambassador, planting his hands firmly on Karmarov’s desk. In a voice so low few could hear except Karmarov himself, Brent said, “Why, Dmitri? Why? We suspected almost from the beginning, and I took a tremendous risk and told you of our suspicions. Yet your government continued to use that laser device. Why? It doesn’t make sense.”
“You were foolish to expose your so-called evidence like this, Brent,” Karmarov said softly. “I need not try to explain. But forcing my government into a corner with outlandish grandstanding will not yield the results you want.”
“I asked you why, Dmitri,” Brent said. “Dammit, I—”
“The device is an instrument of defense, of territorial security,” Karmarov said between clenched teeth. “It is years ahead of its time, a device that even the most optimistic in your country would not have expected to become operational in another ten years. It violates no existing treaty. It affords a defensive umbrella, its existence cannot merely be shouted away with threats.”
“You’ve got a choice,” Brent said in a normal voice, stepping away from the Russian ambassador so the rest of the delegates could hear. “Start with the Salyut Nineteen spacecraft. Disarm it, go up there and dismantle the mirror, burn it up in the atmosphere—I don’t care. But prove to the United States that you will pledge to use the laser as a defensive device only. Right now it’s an offensive weapon, and it’s already been used to murder innocent American lives. The other choice is to prepare to accept the consequences of your actions.” Brent returned to his seat and slid into it slowly, studying the faces of those around him.
“And what would those consequences be, Mr. Brent?” Karmarov said quietly in English. “Global war? Global death?” He was taunting his American colleague, but Brent folded his hands serenely and returned Karmarov’s gaze in silence. Then the memory of their private meeting returned to him. Brent saw that Karmarov had remembered, too. Brent gathered his notes together and nodded to Adams, preparing to leave.
“Za/ Lyot, ” Karmarov said, almost in a whisper. Delegates scrambled for translation earpieces. Brent’s gaze narrowed, as if in pain.
“You cannot,” Karmarov said. “It will mean the end. You cannot—”
“We can, we will,” Marshall Brent said, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt. He stood, nodded to Ian McCaan, and left the Security Council chambers.
13 Washington, D.C.
The scene in the hushed, dimly-li
t blast-proof chamber beneath the White House known as the Situation Room could best be described as funereal—and, at that point, the atmosphere exactly matched Secretary of State Marshall Brent’s mood.
Brent waited for the President to signal that he was ready, then picked up the sheet of paper that lay in front of him and began:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have received the reply from the Soviet Premier to our charges concerning the use of the Kavaznya laser installation and the Salyut Nineteen orbiting mirror on the RC-135 aircraft, the Alpha Omega Nine satellite, and the Javelin small ICBM. It reads as follows— Quote:
THE GOVERNMENT OF THE UNION OF SOVIET SOCIALIST REPUBLICS CATEGORICALLY DENIES THE CHARGES LEVELED AGAINST IT IN CLOSED SESSION OF THE UNITED NATIONS SECURITY COUNCIL. THE USSR REJECTS THE EVIDENCE PRESENTED IN CLOSED SESSION AS FABRICATION AND INADMISSIBLE. THE USSR DENIES ANY CULPABILITY IN THE ALLEGED LOSS OF ANY AIRCRAFT ON OR ABOUT THE THIRTEENTH OF NOVEMBER, NINETEEN EIGHTY-SEVEN, OR THE ALLEGED LOSS OF AN ILLEGAL SPY SATELLITE ON OR ABOUT THE SAME DATE. WE WILL NOT DIGNIFY THE BASELESS AND LUDICROUS CLAIM OF SHOOTING DOWN A MISSILE OVER THE PACIFIC OCEAN WITH A DENIAL.
“Those sonsofbitches, ” Curtis muttered.
Brent went on,
THE SOVIET UNION MAINTAINS THAT ANY GROUND-BASED LASER DEVICE IN EXISTENCE IS NOT A VIOLATION OF THE 1972 ANTI-BALLISTIC MISSILE TREATY, SINCE SUCH WEAPONS WERE NEVER ADDRESSED BY THAT TREATY, NOR IS THE PRESENCE OF A SPACE VEHICLE WITH A MIRROR ATTACHED TO IT IN ANY WAY IN VIOLATION OF ANY TREATY.
THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT’S PROVOCATIVE ULTIMATUM DELIVERED BY THE AMERICAN SECRETARY OF STATE TO THE SOVIET UNITED NATIONS DELEGATION IS GROUNDLESS AND AGGRESSIVE, AND IT IS HEREBY REJECTED. THE UNITED STATES MUST OFFER PROOF, REAL PROOF, THAT THE ALLEGED LOSS OF THEIR EQUIPMENT WAS NOT CAUSED BY THEIR OWN INCOMPETENCE OR MALFUNCTION BEFORE THEY CAN BEGIN TO REQUEST ANYTHING FROM THIS SOVEREIGN NATION.
Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 01 Page 18
