Sea of Shadows

CHAPTER 24

WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM

WASHINGTON, DC

FRIDAY; 18 MAY

12:13 AM EDT

The double doors swung open, and two Secret Service agents entered the room and took up positions at either side of the doorway. The president strode into the room a few seconds later, holding up his hand as he walked. “Please, don’t get up.”

He slid into his chair at the head of the table and looked at each of his three advisors in turn. “We all know why we’re here,” he said. “Fifteen U.S. Sailors dead, nearly thirty more wounded, two helicopters destroyed, and a half-billion dollars worth of damage to an aircraft carrier.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “The question is, what do we do now?”

Admiral Casey, the Chief of Naval Operations, cleared his throat. “My position remains unchanged, Mr. President. Our best recourse is to sink those submarines and do it now.”

The president forced a half-smile. “I understand how you feel, Bob. But I’m not going to start a war here.”

“Looks to me like the Germans have already started it, sir,” Admiral Casey said. “God knows why, but they want to duke it out with us.”

Secretary of State Whelkin shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

The CNO’s eyebrows shot up. “They took the first shots,” he said. “At the Brits and then at us. And you don’t think they’re spoiling for a fight?”

SecState raised her index finger. “I’m not disagreeing with you, Admiral. I’m certain that you’re right; the Germans are looking for a fight. I just don’t think they want a war.”

The room was silent as everyone tried to digest that puzzling remark.

After a few seconds, the president said, “Talk to me, Liz. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Elizabeth Whelkin folded her hands on the table in front of her.

“We’re trying like hell to avoid a war here, right?”

Nearly every head in the room nodded.

She tilted her head. “Don’t you think the Germans know that?” Her gaze traveled around the room, touching on every set of eyes around the table. “Not only do they know it, but they’re depending on it.”

“Wait a minute,” the CNO said. “You’re saying they want to mix it up with us, but they’re counting on us to keep it from blowing up into a full-scale war?”

The secretary of state nodded. “That’s how I read it.”

National Security Advisor Gregory Brenthoven put both hands on the tabletop. “I can think of at least two possibilities that make more sense than that. How about this? Maybe those submarine commanders have gone rogue. They might be operating without authority from their government. Or maybe those Siraji crews that they’ve been training have seized control and hijacked the damned things!”

The president shook his head. “I don’t think so, Greg. If those subs are operating without orders from the German government, where are the apologies? Why isn’t Friedrik Shoernberg falling all over himself to kiss up to me? Where are the frantic phone calls denying involvement?”

Brenthoven looked surprised. “He hasn’t called you, sir?”

The president shook his head again. “Hell no. I had to call him.”

“What did he say?”

“He expressed sympathy for the families of our dead and wounded Sailors,” the president said.

“No apologies?”

“No apologies. In fact, the bastard half-implied that it was our fault.”

The CNO sat up. “Our fault? How in the hell does he figure that?”

“It’s a free ocean,” the president said. “From their angle, their subs were exercising their legal right to transit. Friedrik gave me a whole song and dance about it. By interfering with their passage and shoving a carrier up their noses, we provoked them into defending themselves.”

“That’s absolute bullshit,” the CNO snapped. “Our ships have United Nations authorization to board and search any vessel suspected of violating the arms embargo against Siraj. Those subs are prohibited military hardware. We were totally within our rights to try to stop their delivery.”

“That’s not how Chancellor Shoernberg sees it,” the president said.

“It’s the position of the German government that our mandate to conduct maritime interception operations is only valid within the boundaries of the Arabian Gulf. Shoernberg claims we overstepped our authority when we went after his subs in the Arabian Sea.”

The national security advisor stared at the secretary of state. “Is that right?”

Whelkin whistled through her teeth and scribbled a rapid note on her legal pad. “That’s a tuffy. I’ll have to go back and look at the wording of the resolution. It’s possible that Chancellor Shoernberg is right. Technically, anyway.”

“Technically, my ass,” the CNO snapped. “You don’t shoot at your allies — your supposed allies — over a technicality. The whole self-defense argument is a crock anyway. The Kitty Hawk strike group was hit by a coordinated multi-axis attack. From what I’ve seen of the initial post-mission analysis, the whole thing was a carefully orchestrated attempt to disrupt the defensive formation around a United States aircraft carrier long enough to attack the carrier itself. A damned successful attempt at that.”

“Maybe the self-defense claim is Chancellor Shoernberg’s way of covering his ass,” Brenthoven said. “A whole pack of rogue submarines is pretty damned embarrassing. Could it be that the German government is stalling until they can think of the least damaging angle on this thing?”

The secretary of state shook her head. “Those submarines are not rogue. They are operating under orders.”

Brenthoven stared at her. “How can you possibly know that?”

“It’s not all that difficult to figure out,” Whelkin said. “An entire squadron of German Air Force jets showed up to escort them through the Straits of Gibraltar. Unless you’re suggesting that the Luftwaffe has gone rogue as well, I’d say that’s a pretty good indication that the German government is calling the plays.”

“Don’t forget those radar-decoy yachts in the southern Med,” the CNO said. “That was a calculated deception, carried out using boats that were leased by the German Navy.”

The president’s eyebrows went up. “Right. So, we scratch the rogue commander theory. What does that leave us? Can the Germans really be that determined to push us into a war?”

“Not a war, Mr. President,” Whelkin said. “A fight.”

Brenthoven rolled his eyes. “Are we back to playing semantics again? Planes, ships, torpedoes, missiles. Burnt bodies floating in the ocean. What difference does it make what you call it? Do you think the families of those dead Sailors care what word we use for it? Are they any less dead if we call it a fight instead of a war?”

“You misunderstand me,” the secretary of state said. “I’m not talking about the choice of words. I’m talking about the scope of the conflict.”

Brenthoven snorted. “What in the hell does that mean?”

The president raised a hand. “Keep your shirt on, Greg. I want to see where Liz is going.”

Whelkin turned her eyes to the president. “I think the German government is challenging us to single combat.”

The president frowned. “You mean like they did in the Middle Ages? Like jousting?”

“Pretty much, sir,” Whelkin said. “But in the Middle Ages, it was primarily used as a display of battle skills, or to decide points of honor.”

She took a swallow of coffee and carefully wiped the lipstick off the rim of the cup before continuing. “In biblical times, the concept had much greater significance. When the leaders of opposing nations had disagreements,