“I’ve always been prepared to give my life for the Motherland.”
Jeffrey stared at Meredov. “Do we understand each other?” He glanced at the clock on a wall. “You have until midnight.”
Meredov sat down and let out a long breath. “Yes. We understand each other.”
“We do not yet know. It might have been rogues or invaders. I’m told this is being actively investigated.”
“As far as my country is aware, and as far as my president sees it, Russia attempted a first strike against America.
“But—”
“Verbal excuses will carry no weight! How can you possibly explain
Since it was in English, Meredov gave it to the translator. “Read it aloud in Russian,” he ordered, pointing at the conference phone.
Meredov’s face turned crimson as he started to understand what the transcript said. “I myself am puzzled. I do not think my commander in chief would mislead yours intentionally, on topics of such importance, when the likelihood of deception being found out was so great. Perhaps he was misled by intermediate-level commanders, who were confused or who sought to protect themselves.”
“Between nations, Admiral, the whole is held responsible for the actions of its parts.”
Meredov nodded reluctantly.
Jeffrey leaned forward. “Listen carefully, you and those in Vladivostok, and in Moscow when they hear this as a recording…. If extremists launched those missiles, in some analogy to the attempted provocation by the Golf-class sub in nineteen-sixty-eight, and other suspect events since then, the Kremlin is answerable. Answerable for failing to adequately safeguard its own thermonuclear missiles during a time of terrible international strife. And answerable for failing to maintain adequate internal security as to conspiracies and splinter groups within the Kremlin’s own power structure. If we did not have our stealth space-based missile shield in place, tragedy would have occurred. Instead of us sitting here talking, our two countries would be busy fighting a strategic nuclear war!
“What is this missile shield? I thought Russian rogues created the electromagnetic pulses over Moscow on purpose, or the missiles were aimed at America but detonated early due to some error in fusing inputs or a hardware or software fault.”
The Hot Line would be used to convey its technical details — that part of the script wasn’t Jeffrey’s job, unless pressed.
“The shield’s very existence is classified. I was informed by radio only because I had a need to know, as part of my tasking to meet with you. It has the capability to make enabled, unlocked hydrogen bombs on ballistic missiles launched against America detonate prematurely in the vacuum of space, after their boost phase is complete, to inflict punishment on the aggressor and discourage further provocation or escalation.”
Meredov was astonished. “The nuclear explosions were caused by your missile shield?”
“The punishment inflicted is proportional, discriminate, appropriate, nonlethal, and nonescalatory. My government views this retaliation as entirely justified under international law.”
“Such points, I am not qualified to debate. But why has such an amazing capability been kept secret?”
“I suppose to not tempt an adversary into striking before it was ready…. Don’t evade me, Admiral. I repeat my question. Who was responsible for launching those missiles? And I don’t mean who turned the keys. I mean who made the decision, issued the authorization? If you don’t come up with some good answers soon, my commander in chief will feel righteously entitled to inflict more such pulses on Russia, beyond the tactical nuclear strike launched from
Meredov’s face turned white this time. “Captain, please. There may very well have been no authorization. The missile complex is a crime scene, a battlefield, and a toxic hot spot all in one. Vladivostok told me an investigation is under way. Such things always take time.”
“Speaking of which, where’s our patch into the Hot Line? The clock is ticking, and
Meredov turned to the doorway. “Irina!”
She appeared in a moment. “Yes, Admiral?”
“Call Vladivostok on another line and see what’s causing the delay with us hearing from Moscow and Washington.”
“At once, sir. And I didn’t want to interrupt, but Rear Admiral Balakirev phoned you twice.”
“What did he want?”
“He wants to know if he can fly here to meet Captain Fuller, and how is the computer analysis coming since it’s been a while.”
“Tell him the analysis is on hold due to more important problems, and whether he is invited to meet with our guest is up to his superiors, not me.”
“Yes, Admiral. I would also like to speak with you in private for a moment.”
Meredov sighed and stood.
“Excuse me, please, Captain. My regrets.”
“Who’s Balakirev?”
“Rear Admiral Balakirev is my counterpart in Anadyr, covering the coast and waters around the Bering Strait.” Meredov spoke into the conference phone. “I am stepping from the room. I am muting the phone, and will return shortly.”
When Meredov left the conference room, Irina beckoned for him to follow. Puzzled, he went to her office across the hall.
She closed the door. “There’s something you need to see.”
“Yes?”
“Regarding the computer analysis, Admiral.”
“Go on. Quickly.”
She placed a false-color image, a computer printout, on her desk. He examined it. “These are the spires in the strait?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What are these red and orange dots and blobs?”
“Echo returns from the ships’ and sonobuoy’s active sonars, that our supercomputer eked from all the data Anadyr sent us.”
The fuzzy colors traced the shape of a submarine in profile.
“So there
Malinkova nodded. “That’s what the computer center says.”
“Can they identify the class of submarine?”
“Its dimensions as revealed by the dots indicate a length of about one-hundred-ten meters, and a beam close to twelve meters.”
“That eliminates most possibilities.”
“Yes, sir. The wide diameter of the hull is key, when combined with its length as a fast-attack. It can only be USS
