‘What about Diplomatic Clearance?’ the Intelligence Director said. ‘Technically, we’ll need—’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Simpson snapped, irritation evident in his tone. ‘Richter can get the DST to sort that out from the French end – right?’
‘Shouldn’t be a problem,’ Richter said. ‘Lacomte has the ear of the Minister on this, for obvious reasons. If I’m flying in a Tornado,’ he added, ‘you’ll have to provide the RAF with my measurements for the flying suit – it has to be reasonably tight-fitting.’
‘Right. You said two things,’ Simpson said. ‘What’s the second?’
Richter told him, which produced a loud protest from the Intelligence Director. ‘You can’t do that,’ he said.
‘Why not?’ Richter replied. ‘We’d only be pointing the same gun in a different direction, so to speak.’
‘I like it,’ Simpson interrupted. ‘Yes, it’s sneaky and devious, and that’s usually the best way to work. Leave it to me. Now, is that it – as far as the weapon is concerned?’
‘Probably not,’ Richter replied, ‘but it’s about all I can think of at the moment. But there are a couple of other things we need to sort out.’
‘And that is your unanimous recommendation?’ the Secretary of Defense asked. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff shook his head. ‘Not unanimous, Mr Secretary, but that is our majority view.’
The Secretary of Defense nodded slowly. ‘Very well,’ he said finally. ‘We go to DEFCON ONE now.’
Defence Readiness Condition One is the ultimate state of emergency. It ensures maximum force readiness and implies that the country is either at war or about to go to war.
Four minutes later the Secretary of Defense was talking on a secure telephone to the President. ‘The Joint Chiefs have recommended escalation now,’ he said, ‘so, subject to your veto, we’re going to DEFCON ONE immediately. Do you agree, sir?’
‘Yes. Implement it immediately.’
‘I’m leaving with the Joint Chiefs for SITE R as soon as the choppers get here, and the NMCC will revert to skeleton manning with immediate effect.’
‘I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this,’ the President replied. He sounded more depressed than the Secretary of Defense had ever known.
‘Still no word from Karasin?’
‘Nothing,’ the President replied. ‘I contacted the Kremlin on the hot-line telex link about an hour ago, but they told me that the Russian President is still in conference. I don’t know,’ he added, ‘exactly what that means.’ The Secretary of Defense didn’t reply. ‘I was intending to stay here throughout the crisis,’ the President went on, ‘but I’ve changed my mind. I’ve ordered a helicopter to take me to Camp David. My family’s gone there already, and I can conduct operations from there as well as from here.’
Camp David has an underground emergency operations centre designed to operate as a nuclear war command post. The centre is linked to SITE R by armoured underground communications cables.
‘Very good, Mr President,’ the Secretary of Defense said. ‘We’ve already activated the Mystic Star and Nationwide secure communications systems. The Joint Chiefs are linked with the Cover All and Nightwatch aircraft, Cheyenne Mountain, SITE R, USStratCom at Offutt and the other centres, and I’ll get Camp David added. I’ll make sure that you can contact me, the Vice-President and your nuclear commanders as soon as you get there.’ There was a short silence on the line. ‘Mr President?’
‘Sorry. Just thinking. My staff will tell Karasin where I’m going, and the Kremlin too. Is there anything else we can do?’
‘Nothing, Mr President,’ the Secretary said. ‘All we can do now is wait and pray.’
Le Moulin au Pouchon,
Sadoun Khamil actually took over six hours to draft a reply to Abbas’ email, and as he read the decrypted text Abbas guessed that the delay had been because Khamil had been in prolonged consultation with senior al- Qaeda personnel.
Khamil’s response was unequivocal – they would wait for the last phase of the operation to be implemented, for the London weapon to be put in place, for the Gibraltar bomb to be detonated and for Trushenko’s ultimatum to be delivered. Only then was Abbas authorized to take charge of the integrated weapons system the Russians had so obligingly constructed for them, and change the world.
The President settled himself wearily into an armchair in the underground bunker and glanced around. His wife and children were still above ground, watching an afternoon movie in the comfort of the Camp David house. There would be, the President knew, ample time to bring them down into the bunker when – and if – necessary. Sitting about ten feet away from him was a Marine Corps major, clutching a black attache case which was chained to his left wrist. Known colloquially as The Football, the case contained everything the President needed to wage global thermonuclear war – the current SIOP options, the President’s Decision Book and, most importantly, the Top Secret Gold Codes.
The Gold Codes are a jumble of random letters and numbers issued on a daily basis by the National Security Agency. One copy of the Codes is delivered to the White House, or wherever the President happens to be, for inclusion in The Football, and simultaneously duplicate sets are delivered to all American nuclear command posts, including the Cover All and Nightwatch aircraft. Possession of the Gold Codes, and access to one of the secure communication networks, is all the American President – or anyone else, in fact – needs to authorize the release of nuclear weapons.
The Marine Corps major, one of three officers assigned to The Football detail, had a simple job. He was to stay with the President at all times, day and night, until the President was either incapacitated or dead, when he would immediately transfer his allegiance to the next appointed Head of State.
‘Cheer up, Marine,’ the President said, a somewhat forced smile on his face. ‘It may never happen.’
‘No, sir,’ the major replied, doubtfully.
An Army colonel approached the President. ‘The Secretary of Defense, sir,’ he said, ‘on the Mystic Star console.’
The President walked across the floor and picked up the headset. The Secretary of Defense’s voice was scratchy and echoed in the earphones – a function of the scrambling system used – and the President had to concentrate to hear what he was saying.
‘We’re established at SITE R, Mr President. Any news?’
‘Nothing yet,’ the President said. ‘Karasin and the Kremlin know where I am.’ He paused. ‘I just get the feeling they’re going to go all the way on this one.’
There was a brief silence on the line. ‘Mr President, in my judgement you’ve been right about most things since you took office, but this time I really hope you’re wrong.’
‘What time will you begin the assault?’ Simpson asked.
‘That depends upon what we find when we get there,’ Richter said, ‘and will in any case be decided by the SAS officer in charge. My guess, for what it’s worth, is the early hours of the morning.’
‘Anything else?’ Simpson asked.
‘Yes,’ Richter said, and fished a scrap of paper out of his wallet. ‘General Modin was very insistent that I noted down a Russian word. The word is
‘What does it mean?’
‘If I knew that,’ Richter said, ‘I wouldn’t be asking you. I’ve no idea if it’s the name of a person, a place or even a description of something. Modin won’t explain it further.’
‘Can’t you lean on him?’ Simpson asked.
Richter thought for a moment. ‘No,’ he said, finally. ‘I don’t think I can. He’s been far more co-operative over
