The Cardinal of the Kremlin jrao-5

by Tom Clancy

  "General Parks says that he wants to shut us down."

  "Hell, Major, you can ask the man. I wouldn't mind finding out myself." Jack turned off Pennsylvania Avenue, following the CIA limousine. Five minutes later, he and Gregory were sitting in the west wing's reception room under a copy of the famous painting of Washington crossing the Delaware while the Judge was talking to the President's national security advisor, Jeffrey Pelt. The President was finishing up a session with the Secretary of Commerce. Finally, a Secret Service agent called to them and led the way through the corridors.

  As with TV studio sets, the Oval Office is smaller than most people expect. Ryan and Gregory were directed to a small sofa along the north wall. Neither man sat down yet; the President was standing by his desk. Ryan noted that Gregory appeared a little pale now, and remembered his own first time here. Even White House insiders would occasionally admit to being intimidated by this room and the power it contained.

  "Hello again, Jack!" The President strode over to take his hand. "And you must be the famous Major Gregory."

  "Yes, sir." Gregory nearly strangled on that, and had to clear his throat. "I mean, yes, Mr. President."

  "Relax, sit down. You want some coffee?" He waved to a tray on the corner of his desk. Gregory's eyes nearly bugged out when the President got him a cup. Ryan did his best to suppress a smile. The man who'd made the presidency "imperial" again-whatever that meant-was a genius for putting people at ease. Or appearing to, Jack corrected himself. The coffee routine often made them even more uneasy, and maybe that was no accident. "Major, I've heard some great things about you and your work. The General says you're his brightest star." Parks shifted in his chair at that. The President sat down next to Jeff Pelt. "Okay, let's get started."

  Ryan opened his portfolio and set a photograph on the low table. Next came a diagram. "Mr. President, this is a satellite shot of what we call sites Bach and Mozart. They're on a mountain southeast of the city of Dushanbe in the Tadzhik Soviet Socialist Republic, about seventy miles from the Afghan border. The mountain is about seventy-six hundred feet high. We've had it under surveillance for the past two years. This one"-another photo went down-"is Sary Shagan. The Russians have had ballistic-missile-defense work going on here for the past thirty years. This site right here is believed to be a laser test range. We believe that the Russians made a major breakthrough in laser power here two years ago. They then changed the activity at Bach to accommodate it. Last week they ran what was probably a full-power test. "This array here at Bach is a laser transmitter."

  "And they blasted a satellite with it?" Jeff Pelt asked. "Yes, sir," Major Gregory answered. "They 'slagged it down,' as we say at the lab. They pumped enough energy into it to, well, to melt some of the metal and destroy the solar power cells entirely."

  "We can't do that yet?" the President asked Gregory.

  "No, sir. We can't put that much power out the front end."

  "How is it that they got ahead of us? We're putting a lot of money into lasers, aren't we, General?"

  Parks was uncomfortable with the recent developments, but his voice was dispassionate. "So are the Russians, Mr. President. They've made quite a few leaps because of their efforts in fusion. They've been investing in high-energy physics research for years as part of an effort to get fusion-power reactors. About fifteen years ago that effort was mated with their missile-defense program. If you put that much time and effort into basic research, you can expect a return, and they've gotten plenty. They invented the RFQ-the radio-frequency quadrapole-that we use in our neutral-particle beam experiments. They invented the Tokamak magnetic-containment device that we copied up at Princeton, and they invented the Gyrotron. Those are three major breakthroughs in high-energy physics that we know about. We've used some of them in our own SDI research, and it's for sure that they've figured out the same applications."

  "Okay, what do we know about this test they ran?" It was Gregory's turn again. "Sir, we know that it came from Dushanbe because the only other high-energy laser sites, at Sary Shagan and Semipalatinsk, were under the visible horizon-I mean, they couldn't see the satellite from there. We know that it wasn't an infrared laser, because the beam would have been seen by the sensors on the Cobra Belle aircraft. If I had to guess, sir, I'd say that the system uses the free-electron laser-"

  "It does," Judge Moore noted. "We just confirmed that."

  "That's the one we're working on at Tea Clipper. It seems to offer the best potential for weapons applications."

  "Can I ask why, Major?" the President asked.

  "Power efficiency, sir. The actual lasing occurs in a stream of free electrons-that means they're not attached to atoms like they usually are, sir-in a vacuum. You use a linear accelerator to produce a stream of the electrons and shoot them into the cavity, which has a low-energy laser shining along its axis. The idea is that you can use electromagnets to oscillate the electrons crosswise to their path. What you get is a beam of light coincident with the oscillation frequency of the wiggler magnets-that means you can tune it, sir, like a radio. By altering the energy of the beam, you can select the exact light frequency you generate. Then you can recycle the electrons back into the linear accelerator and shoot them back into the lasing cavity again. Since the electrons are already in a high-energy state, you gain a lot of power efficiency right there. The bottom line, sir, is that you can theoretically pump out forty percent of the energy you pump in. If you can achieve that reliably, you can kill anything you can see-when we talk about high energy levels, sir, we're speaking in relative terms. Compared to the electrical power that this country uses to cook food, the amount needed for a laser defense system is negligible. The trick is making it really work. We haven't done that yet."

  "Why not?" The President was interested now, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

  "We're still learning how to make the laser work, sir. The fundamental problem is in the lasing cavity-that's where the energy comes off the electrons and turns into a beam of light. We haven't been able yet to make a very wide one. If the cavity is too narrow, then you have such a high power density that you fry the optical coatings both in the cavity itself and on the mirrors that you use to aim the beam."

  "But they've beaten the problem. How do you think they i did it?"

  "I know what we're trying to do. As you draw energy into the laser beam, the electrons become less energetic, okay? That means you have to taper the magnetic field that contains them-and remember that at the same time you have to continue the wiggling action of the field, too. We haven't figured that out yet. Probably they have, and that probably came from their research into fusion power. All the ideas for getting energy out of controlled fusion are concerned with using a magnetic field to contain a mass of high-energy plasma-in principle the same thing we're trying to do with the free electrons. Most of the basic research in that field comes from Russia, sir. They're ahead of us because they've spent more time and money in the most important place."

  "Okay, thank you, Major." The President turned to Judge Moore. "Arthur, what does CIA think?"

  "Well, we're not going to disagree with Major Gregory-he just spent a day briefing our Science and Technology people. We have confirmed that the Soviets do have six free-electron lasers at this place. They have made a breakthrough in power output and we're trying to find out exactly what the breakthrough was."

  "Can you do that?" General Parks asked.

  "I said we're trying, General. If we're very lucky, we'll have an answer by the end of the month."

  "Okay, we know they can build a very powerful laser," the President said. "Next question: is it a weapon?"

  "Probably not, Mr. President," General Parks said. "At least not yet. They still have a problem with thermal blooming because they haven't learned how to copy our adaptive optics. They've gotten a lot of technology from the West, but so far they don't have that. Until they do, they can't use the ground-based laser as we have, that is, relaying the beam by orbiting mirror to
a distant target. But what they have now can probably do great damage to a satellite in low-earth orbit. There are ways to protect satellites against that, of course, but it's the old battle between heavier armor and heavier warheads. The warhead usually wins in the end."

  "Which is why we should negotiate the weapons out of existence." Ernie Alien spoke for the first time. General Parks looked over to him with unconcealed irritation. "Mr. President, we are now getting a taste-just a taste-of how dangerous and destabilizing these weapons might be. If we merely consider this Dushanbe place to be an antisatellite weapon, look at the implications it has for verification of arms-treaty compliance, and for intelligence-gathering in general. If we don't try to stop these things now, all we'll get is chaos."

  "You can't stop progress," Parks observed.

  Alien snorted. "Progress? Hell, we have a draft treaty on the table now to reduce weapons by half. That's progress, General. In the test you just ran over the South Atlantic, you missed with half your shots-I can take out as many missiles as you can."

  Ryan thought the General might come off his chair at that one, but instead he adopted his intellectual guise. "Mr. Alien, that was the first test of an experimental system, and half of its shots did hit. In fact, all of the targets were eliminated in under a second. Major Gregory here will have that targeting problem beaten by summer-won't you, son?"

  "Yes, sir!" Gregory piped up. "All we have to do is rework the code some."

  "Okay. If Judge Moore's people can tell us what the Russians have done to increase their laser power, we have most of the rest of the system architecture already tested and validated. In two or three years, we'll have it all-and then we can start thinking seriously about deployment."

  "And if the Soviets start shooting your mirrors out of space?" Alien asked dryly. "You could have the best laser system ever made on the ground, but it won't do much more than defend New Mexico."

  "They'll have to find 'em first, and that's a much harder problem than you think. We can put 'em pretty high up, between three hundred and a thousand miles. We can use stealth technology to make them hard to locate on radar-you can't do that with most satellites, but we can do it with these. The mirrors will be relatively small, and light. That means we can deploy a lot of them. Do you know how big space is, and how many thousands of pieces of junk are orbiting up there? They'd never get them all," Parks concluded with confidence.

  "Jack, you've been looking at the Russians. What do you think?" the President asked Ryan.

  "Mr. President, the main force we're going against here is the Soviet fixation on defending their country-and I mean actually defending it against attack. They've invested thirty years of work and quite a pile of money in this field because they think it's something worth doing. Back in the Johnson administration, Kosygin said, 'Defense is moral, offense is immoral.' That's a Russian talking, sir, not just a communist. To be honest, I find that a hard argument to disagree with. If we do enter a new phase of competition, at least it would be defensive instead of offensive. Kind of hard to kill a million civilians with a laser," Jack noted.

  "But it will change the whole balance of power," Ernest Alien objected.

  "The current balance of power may be fairly stable, but it's still fundamentally crazy," Ryan said.

  "It works. It keeps the peace."

  "Mr. Alien, the peace we have is one continuous crisis. You say we can reduce inventories by half-again, so what? You could cut Soviet inventories by two thirds and still leave them with enough warheads to turn America into a crematorium. The same thing is true of our inventory. As I said coming back from Moscow, the reduction agreement now on the table is cosmetic only. It does not provide any degree of additional safety. It is a symbol-maybe an important one, but only a symbol with very little substance."

  "Oh, I don't know," General Parks observed. "If you reduce my target load by half, I wouldn't mind all that much." That earned him a nasty look from Alien.

  "If we can find out what the Russians are doing different, where does that leave us?" the President asked.

  "If the CIA gives us data that we can use? Major?" Parks turned his head.

  "Then we'll have a weapons system that we can demonstrate in three years, and deploy over the five to ten years after that," Gregory said.

  "You're sure," the President said.

  "As sure as I can be, sir. Like with the Apollo Program, sir, it's not so much a question of inventing a new science as learning how to engineer technology we already have. It's just working out the nuts and bolts."

  "You're a very confident young man, Major," Alien said professorially.

  "Yes, sir, I am. I think we can do it. Mr. Alien, our objective isn't all that different from yours. You want to get rid of the nukes, and so do we. Maybe we can help you, sir."

  Zing! Ryan thought with a hastily concealed smile. A discreet knock came at the door. The President checked his watch.

  "I have to cut this one short. I have to go over some antidrug programs over lunch with the Attorney General. Thank you for your time." He took one last look at the Dushanbe photo and stood. Everyone else did the same. They filed out by the side door, the one concealed in the white plaster walls.

  "Nice going, kid," Ryan observed quietly to Gregory.

  Candi Long caught the car outside her house. It was driven by a friend from Columbia, Dr. Beatrice Taussig, another optical physicist. Their friendship went back to undergraduate days. She was flashier than Candi. Taussig drove a Nissan 300Z sports car, and had the traffic citations to prove it. The car fitted well with her clothes, however, and the Clairoled hairstyle, and the brash personality that turned men off like a light switch.

  " 'Morning, Bea." Candi Long slipped into the car and buckled the seat belt before she closed the door. Driving with Bea, you always buckled up-though she never seemed to bother.

  "Tough night, Candi?" This morning it was a severe, not quite mannish wool suit, topped by a silk scarf at the neck. Long could never see the point. When you spent your day covered in a cheap white lab coat, who gave a damn what was under it-except Al, of course, but he was interested in what was under what was under, she thought to herself, smiling.

  "I sleep better when he's here."

  "Where'd he go?" Taussig asked.

  "Washington." She yawned. The rising sun cast shadows on the road ahead.

  "How come?" Bea downshifted as she accelerated the car up the freeway on-ramp. Candi felt herself pressed sideways against the seat belt. Why did her friend have to drive this way? This wasn't the Grand Prix of Monaco.

  "He said that somebody ran a test, and he has to explain it to somebody or other."

  "Hmph." Beatrice looked at her mirror and left the car in third as she selected a slot in the rush-hour traffic. She matched velocities expertly and slid into a space only ten feet longer than her Z-car. That earned her an angry beep from the car behind. She just smiled. The nondriving part of her psyche took note of the fact that whatever test Al was explaining hadn't been American. And there weren't too many people doing tests that this particular little geek had to explain. Bea didn't understand what Candi saw in Al Gregory. Love, she told herself, is blind, not to mention deaf and dumb-especially dumb. Poor, plain Candi Long, she could have done so much better. If only she'd been able to room with Candi at school if only there were a way to let her know "When's Al going to be back?"

  "Maybe tonight. He's going to call. I'll take his car. He left it at the lab."

  "Put a towel over the seat before you sit in it." She chuckled. Gregory drove a Chevy Citation. The perfect car for a geek, Bea Taussig thought. It was filled with the cellophane wrappers from Hostess Twinkies, and he washed it once a year whether the car needed it or not. She wondered what he was like in bed, but stifled the thought. Not in the morning, not after you just woke up. The thought of her friend involved with that made her skin crawl. Candi was just so naive, so innocent-so dumb! about some things. Well, maybe she'd come around. There was still hope. "How'
s the work on your diamond mirror coming?"

  "ADAMANT? Give us another year and we'll know. I wish you were still working with my team," Dr. Long said.

  "I can see more on the administrative side," Bea answered with remarkable honesty. "Besides, I know I'm not as smart as you."

  "Just prettier," Candi noted wistfully.

  Bea turned to look at her friend. Yes, there was still hope.

  Misha had the finished report by four. It was delayed, Bondarenko explained, because all the most-secret-cleared secretaries were busy with other material. It was forty-one pages long, including the diagrams. The young Colonel was as good as his word, Filitov saw. He'd translated all of the engineering gobbledygook into plain, clear language. Misha had spent the previous week reading everything he could find in the files on lasers. While he didn't really understand the principles of their operation all that clearly, he had the engineering details committed to his trained memory. It made him feel like a parrot. He could repeat the words without comprehending their significance. Well, that was enough.

  He read slowly, memorizing as he went. For all his peasant voice and gruff words, his mind was an even sharper razor than Colonel Bondarenko believed. And as things turned out, it didn't have to be. The important part of the breakthrough appeared simple enough, not a matter of increasing the size of the lasing cavity, but of adapting its shape to the magnetic field. With the proper shape, size could be increased almost at will and the new limiting factor became a part of the superconducting magnetic-pulse-control assembly. Misha sighed. The West had done it yet again. The Soviet Union did not have the proper materials. So, as usual, the KGB had secured them in the West, this time shipped through Czechoslovakia via Sweden. Wouldn't they ever learn?