by Joe Buff
“Jesus,” Hodgkiss said under his breath.
“Also, Argentina and then Brazil recently mobilized all their reserves. This is a very serious step. Moving active-duty forces toward the short shared border was bad enough, but that could be dismissed as posturing, brinkmanship, as dangerous as such things are. Full-scale mobilization is not a good sign. It cripples both countries’ already hobbling civilian economies, further destabilizing social conditions and adding to heightened political discontent. It makes war between Brazil and Argentina almost inevitable.”
“Which is the last thing we need right now,” Hodgkiss said.
“It all started with the disaster in the Indian Ocean last month,” the national security adviser said. “Then the South Pacific atrocity, then Japan announcing that they’re a nuclear power…”
The DCI nodded. “War hysteria gets contagious and feeds on itself, like Europe in 1914. We’re sure Axis agents are behind the trouble inside Argentina, and also behind the trouble between Argentina and Brazil. Falsified provocations by paid agitators, shootings back and forth by unidentified gunmen who vanish, jingoist headlines in newspapers controlled by the pro-Axis groups, inflammatory speeches over TV and radio stations they own. And bombings, and orchestrated street riots. Some of this comes right out of Mein Kampf…. The Argentine president barely controls his own military, and what little control he has won’t last. His party, the Populist Peronist Front, is tottering…. I know, that lingo makes him sound like some kind of latter-day Communist Fascist all rolled into one, but the language and the history involved are hard to convey succinctly. Basically he’s middle of the road, and tries to stand up for the poor people. The opposition, who won some votes under their so-called Christian Democrat banner, are in danger of starting an all-out civil war if they have to. They’re anything but Christian in their values, and anything but democratic in their goals. And the Germans and Boers are secretly egging them on.”
“What’s the status of Brazil’s nuclear-weapons program?” Hodgkiss asked.
“I was just coming to that,” the DCI said. “And the answer is, we just don’t know. They might, repeat might, have several weaponized devices…. But the president of Brazil is apretty good guy. His Centrist-Pluralist Party is in solid control, and he definitely is the Brazilian military’s commander in chief in every positive sense of the phrase. I don’t see him being first to use atomic weapons, even if things went badly in a conventional war.”
“And Argentina?”
“That’s why we’re having this meeting,” the national security adviser said. “Harry?”
The DCI took over again. He removed a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. “These are transcripts of several intercepted telephone conversations. Translated into English by the best linguists we’ve got on the Argentina desk.”
“How’d you get these?” Hodgkiss asked as he took the papers.
“The usual. Satellite eavesdropping, picking up the top lobes off microwave towers.”
Ilse understood what he meant. Every antenna, no matter how directionally focused its main beam might be, always leaked some energy to the sides — side lobes — and also straight up in the air: the top lobe. These weak lobes could be detected, amplified by millions or even billions of times, decrypted if necessary, and listened in on. Nuclear submarines lurking offshore, at periscope depth, with an antenna mast raised, were often used to catch these invaluable side lobes. Spy satellites could do impressive things with the top lobes.
Hodgkiss whistled as he read. “You’d think that with this kind of dynamite, they’d be more careful.”
The DCI nodded. “I don’t believe they realize quite how powerful our capabilities are. A group of prowar ringleaders in Buenos Aires needed to talk to some of the old-guard elite hanging out at a ranch on the pampas. We believe this rich guy’s cattle ranch is serving as a headquarters or safe house for the Axis sympathizers. They did use scramblers, but we were able to undo the scrambler routines.”
“And before you ask,” the national security adviser interjected, “the option of shooting a Tomahawk down their throat has been ruled out. The pro-Axis faction is too big, too well dispersed, too mobile. That sort of direct action would just give them martyrs, not to mention amount to an act of war, which we can ill afford under present diplomatic circumstances. And worst of all, it would tip our hand prematurely, that the U.S. is on to the conspiracy.”
Hodgkiss nodded impatiently, half distracted as he read the papers. “These are literal translations?”
“Yes,” the DCI said, “with Argentine slang, tones of voice, and inflection, it’s all there in the transcript with annotations by our linguists.”
Hodgkiss finished reading, then looked up. His face was very grave. He glanced at Ilse and Wilson, and at the director of naval intelligence. Then he glanced at the DCI. “Everyone here has clearance for this?”
The DCI nodded. “Of necessity. On the president’s say-so.”
Hodgkiss let out a long, deep breath. “This says the Argentine bad guys are expecting to receive a supply of atomic warheads from Germany. Soon. Very soon.” He hesitated for a moment, his expression skeptical. “But this is just one source. It could be a ploy, a fake, a provocation.”
“Yes,” the DCI said. “And we have people on the ground at certain Argentine air bases. They say that several Argentine fighter-bombers have been modified, recently and in a hurry. From an interpretation by our experts of how our agents in-country describe the modifications, the refitted aircraft are each intended to carry, arm, and drop an atom bomb. There’s your perfect independent confirmation, Admiral, humint versus sigint, with completely separate locuses of origin.” Sigint was “signals intercept intelligence”; humint meant “reports from human spies.”
“Okay,” Hodgkiss said. “It’s bad, but it does explain how Argentine madmen might hope to win a war with Brazil, outnumbered four or five to one in conventional forces, starting on such a narrow front, with such a lousy road network to fight on, and with such a gigantic area to cover.” Argentina’s population was forty million; Brazil’s was almost two hundred million; heading north from their shared border between Uruguay and Paraguay, Brazil was shaped like a big triangle that got wider and wider until it reached a front as broad as the whole continental U.S. “Brazil would be an attractive target for conquest. Factory sites, mineral wealth, and other natural resources. Even forced labor. But where does Atlantic Fleet come in? We’ve got our hands full and then some with the Central African pocket…. And how arethese atomic bombs supposed to get to Argentina? Airmail? Don’t be ridiculous. And they aren’t on a cargo ship; we’ve had that route of weapons infiltration locked down for years! The noose there’s even tighter with this war.”
“That’s just it,” the national security adviser said. “Atomic war in South America would create a tremendous mess in your rear, at the worst possible time imaginable, right? The worst time for your forces, and strategically for the whole Allied cause.”
“It’s a ploy, a diversion,” Hodgkiss scoffed, “a clever fabrication meant to befuddle us. You’re falling into the trap, don’t you see? With respect, General, don’t pull me in there after you…. And don’t tell me they’re sending the A-bombs by U-boat. The South Atlantic weather’s been too good. At this point, nothing, but nothing, could sneak past our open-ocean antisubmarine screens.” The admiral ticked things off on his fingers. “Standing patrols by Allied subs well off South Africa, surface ships that slowly trail long towed arrays, and hydrophone nets on the bottom of the sea — which is probably why the U-boats are massing in Axis-owned African coastal waters.”
The national security adviser and Hodgkiss locked eyes. “Then where is the SMS von Scheer?”
Hodgkiss turned to Wilson. “Commodore?”
Wilson cleared his throat. “Last we knew, Challenger was pursuing von Scheer east toward Africa.”
“How positive are you of that?” the DCI asked.
Wilson told Ilse to
have data from her console updated. Ilse picked up a phone and called the lieutenant (j.g.) who sat beside her in the war room. She asked him to patch the audio signal, consolidated from the sonobuoys, onto the line, then switched her end to speakerphone mode. Everyone in the conference room listened.
A watery hissing and mechanical throbbing filled the air.
“That’s Challenger,” Ilse said, “making flank speed.”
The sounds got lower in pitch, and quieter, until they became inaudible.
“She’s slowing,” Ilse said, “for better sonar sensitivity…. Now she’ll be listening on passive sonar.”
A loud siren noise came through the speakers. The national security adviser looked startled.
“That’s the ship’s active sonar, ma’am. It does that to confuse enemy acoustic masking.”
Everyone listened. Nothing more happened.
Then the sound of Challenger speeding up could be heard.
Ilse lifted the phone and spoke to the lieutenant in the war room. “No trace of torpedo noises?” The junior officer said no. “What’s her course?” He said due east. “Depth?” Four thousand feet. “Okay, thanks.” She hung up the phone.
“Captain Fuller is using what’s called sprint-and-drift tactics now,” Ilse said. “It’s a method of searching for an enemy target that balances covering distance fast with stopping to listen for threats while own-sonar systems are optimized. He’s increased his depth significantly, into the deep sound channel, to maximize his detection range against any enemy submarines. And going deep gives him greater protection against Axis antiship cruise missiles. His pings can probably be heard all the way to the African coast.” Since Wilson didn’t interrupt or seem at all disapproving, she added one more thought. “I would also interpret this to mean that Captain Fuller has become more cautious, because before, after crossing the wall of lingering nuclear bubble clouds, he was making flank speed continuously.”
The national security adviser and the director of central intelligence looked at each other doubtfully.
The DCI turned to Hodgkiss. “What you’re really saying is that Challenger has lost contact with von Scheer.”
“Temporarily,” Hodgkiss said. Ilse sensed his hackles were up. “Maybe. We need to try to see this from Captain Fuller’s point of view.”
“Why don’t we just ask him?” the national security adviser said, verging on open sarcasm.
“With respect, ma’am,” Ilse jumped in, “we can’t. He’s too deep for two-way comms.”
The general ignored Ilse and glared at Hodgkiss. “Don’t you have some kind of special radio?”
Hodgkiss shook his head. “It takes forever to send the simplest message, and it’s only one way. He’d need to slow down and come shallow to answer, using frequencies impaired now by enemy jamming…. I won’t micromanage Captain Fuller in the middle of an engagement.”
Ilse could feel the interpersonal tension mount.
“Sirs,” Ilse spoke up. “Ma’am. There’s someone very important we’re leaving out, besides Captain Fuller.”
Ilse saw everybody turn in her direction and peer at her hard.
“The captain of the von Scheer.”
Hodgkiss looked at the others. “This guy we’ve identified, Ernst Beck. What’s he doing now, thinking now?”
“I can try to guess for you, Admiral, sir,” Ilse said.
“You faced him before, didn’t you, along with Captain Fuller?”
“Yes.” Ilse was flooded by memories of a long and difficult fight. She remembered increasingly ruthless tactics used by both sides. She remembered a climax so violent it seemed a miracle anyone survived….
Ilse stared at the polished mahogany tabletop, and rested her head in her hands, and concentrated.
“A battle happens on a specific time line, one that’s very chaotic and compressed. A battle is a vector of events, a particular sequence, with order amid the disorder. One side or the other has the initiative, from moment to moment. Whoever has the initiative dictates both sides’ very next move. Somebody there, in the battle, lives it from moment to moment, leading or being led around by the nose…. This intensity of focus colors their perspective heavily.” Ilse pictured the entire battle by the Rocks again. She tried to relive it as if she were there on Challenger.
She looked up abruptly. It came to her so suddenly, the understanding, that it had an almost physical impact, as if she’d gone through a plate-glass door.
“Captain Fuller is heading east because he believes the wall of nuclear detonations was intended by the von Scheer to break contact so that von Scheer can continue east unmolested, closer to Africa. We know now that in the bigger strategic picture, the South American front is as important as, or even more important than, Africa. And the Germans have known it for some time. Presumably since before the von Scheer sailed.”
“You mean—” the DCI said.
“Yes,” Hodgkiss said. “Now it all fits. Von Scheer was thwarted at the Rocks…. Dammit. Ernst Beck isn’t goingeast. That’s why Captain Fuller can’t find him…. He’s heading west, toward South America, this very minute. That’s why Beck led Fuller on that merry chase, then raised his wall of detonations. And that’s how the Germans intend to get the A-bomb warheads to their opportunist friends in Argentina.”
Hodgkiss got up and went to the globe in the corner. He spun it until it showed the South Atlantic. He ran his finger along the globe, almost angrily.
“I see it, all of it.” He made eye contact with the national security adviser. “Beck will cut two sides of a triangle as fast as he possibly can: the Rocks to Buenos Aires, then Buenos Aires across the South Atlantic to the Congo basin. Meanwhile our convoy will cut the third side of the triangle, see? Through the Narrows, past the Rocks, and straight for the Congo basin pocket… Von Scheer runs the errand to Argentina, then scoots over to take the convoy from the rear, completing the triangle and also creating the far end of a big pincers. The convoy gets sandwiched between the von Scheer on one side and the massed Axis U-boats and land-based forces on the other, the worst conceivable setup from our point of view. And the more time goes by, the more and more likely the German and Boer land offensive will open, too.”
“Oh boy,” the DCI said. “The von Scheer’s the perfect transport vehicle, isn’t she? One missile tube could hold dozens of atom-bomb warheads, all nicely gift wrapped for the opposition faction in Buenos Aires. Then the Germans step back and wash their hands, and watch as Latin America explodes in our face, literally. Atomic war on land by Third World countries, an entire new front to America’s south…”
“Something else just fell into place for me,” the national security adviser said. “Even Germany wouldn’t give nuclear weapons to a neutral country unprovoked. They’d know the connection couldn’t be hidden forever, and history would be the judge, and the sick hypocrites are always outward sticklers for the letter of international law…. So Germany must know something we don’t know. They must have their own proof that Brazil has the bomb.”
Hodgkiss nodded slowly and soberly.
The national security adviser and Hodgkiss locked eyes. “We’ve absolutely got to keep the von Scheer from delivering,” she said. “How do we warn Captain Fuller? Is he even the right guy to use?”
“Challenger is already tasked to prosecute von Scheer. She’s still the closest sub we have to von Scheer’s probable track. She’s by far the only one fast enough, deep-diving enough, stealthy enough, to get in range and kill von Scheer with adequate odds of success. To order a different sub after von Scheer, instead of Fuller, could be tantamount to sending good men to a useless death.”
Hodgkiss grabbed the phone and reached his aide. “ELF message, override anything else in the queue. Recipient address is Challenger, confirm hull number seven seven eight. Message is the cipher block for ‘Come to two-way floating-wire-antenna depth and trail the wire….’We’ll just have to hope we can both burn through all the jamming.”
Hodgkiss
held the phone and turned to Ilse. “Might Fuller ignore the message if he thinks we’re only distracting him?”
“He very well might,” she answered honestly.
Hodgkiss spoke into the phone. “Append to message the cipher block for ‘Imperative order, no recourse, Commander U.S. Atlantic Fleet sends.’”
The admiral almost hung up the phone, but then gave his aide more orders. “Get whichever carrier’s closest now to send a medevac helo to the Rocks to pick up the injured SEALs from that cargo-ship hulk. Lots of ice and drinking water, electrolyte packs, the works, they’ll be dropping from heat stress by now, even the guys without wounds. Get an Osprey to haul a mobile radiological decontamination unit. On an underfuselage sling. They can set the trailer down on the ruined lighthouse…. Raise Challenger’s minisub. Radio, signal sonobuoy, whatever it takes. Tell the mini to close on the Rocks and recover all able-bodied SEALs. Then they head south to deeper water and prepare to dock inside Challenger…. You see what I’m getting at. Take it from there.”
Again Hodgkiss almost hung up, then spoke to his aide. “I want another Orpheus station established, on Ascension Island. Pronto, smartly, yesterday. The Brits own it; the Royal Navy liaison is in the building somewhere, track him down and get their help. Their Special Boat Squadron boys can make the hookups. Ascension has a decent cable net to help us monitor the South Atlantic for von Scheer.” The admiral hung up.
The director of central intelligence looked around the room. “What if we guessed wrong? What if it is a giant German trap, or double bluff, after all? What if von Scheer is still going toward Africa now? We’re taking by far our most powerful antisubmarine asset, Challenger, our only ceramic-hulled sub, and we throw her away on a wild-goose chase to nowhere and beyond. The enemy gets the convoy and escorts in a pincers soon, with the U-boats and their land offensive on one side and von Scheer on the other. It’ll be a perfect nutcracker, a bloodbath, with Challenger on a fool’s errand to the wrong continent.”
