Plan of Attack

anyone of this? They all think that you…well, that you…”

“That I’m trying to stir up shit, that I’m trying to get back at the guys that took away my command and sent me here,” Patrick said. “I know what they think. But there’s only one thing that matters: We do everything we can to protect the United States of America.” Patrick noticed Griffin’s exasperated expression. “Yeah, I know, I sound like some goody-goody comic-book hero, but that’s what I believe.”

Patrick heard a series of clicks and a rainburst signal on the phone, and then a voice said, “General McLanahan? Stand by for the chief.” A moment later: “Kuzner here, secure.”

“General Kuzner, this is General McLanahan, Nine-sixty-sixth Information Warfare Wing, secure. I have a possible situation that requires your immediate attention, sir.”

“McLanahan, do you have any idea the shit storm you’ve caused over here?” Charles Kuzner, the Air Force chief of staff, responded angrily. “The NORAD Command Center issued a red alert to the Joint Staff Operations Center, telling us that one of the AIA wing commanders warned them that the United States was under attack by Russian bombers. Did that warning come from you?”

“Yes, sir, it did.”

“For Christ’s sake, McLanahan…where’s General Houser? Does he even know about any of this?”

“I briefed General Houser and the AIA staff on the findings from two recent satellite-constellation overflights just minutes ago, sir. He indicated to me that I didn’t have enough actionable information. I disagreed, and I felt that my information needed immediate attention, so I called Air Battle Force and asked them to draw up a plan for ground reconnaissance. It—”

“Air Battle Force?” Kuzner retorted. “You’re with Air Intelligence Agency, McLanahan, not Air Battle Force! We pulled you out of there specifically to keep shit like this from happening!”

“Sir, I feel that the information I had needed immediate attention, but I wasn’t going to get it from AIA,” Patrick went on. “The only recourse I had was Air Battle Force.”

“How about Eighth Air—” And then Kuzner stopped — because he knew about Patrick’s history with Terrill Samson. He didn’t need to mention Air Combat Command either — Thomas Muskoka wasn’t a fan of Patrick’s either.

“I was informed by General Luger of new data that strongly suggested a massive bomber and tanker mobilization in the Russian far east,” Patrick went on. “His new information confirmed my suspicions. At that point I contacted NORAD and gave them the warning, then contacted Air Force. I—”

“Hold on,” Kuzner said, and the line went silent. He came back a few moments later. “CJCS wants a briefing later today. You’re going to give it to him. Let’s see if he believes you — because I sure as hell don’t. You report to a videoconference center, hook into the Pentagon comm center, and stand by until they send you over to the Gold Room.” The Joint Chiefs of Staff Conference Room was nicknamed the “Gold Room” because of its decor and because of all the “brass” inside. “I’m calling the Eighth Air Force staff to meet up with Strategic Command at Offutt to discuss the situation. If you’re one second late, mister, I’ll personally go out there and kick your ass all the way back to Washington. Kuzner, clear.” And the connection went dead.

Patrick got up from his desk and put on his Class A uniform jacket. “This is probably the second command I’ve given up in less than a month — it’s gotta be some sort of record. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Dave Luger before I left Air Battle Force, Tagger: Pay attention to what your head and your heart tell you, not what some bureaucrat tells you.”

“I will, Patrick,” Griffin said, “but you’re not going to lose this command.”

“I think this time you’re wrong, Tagger,” Patrick said. He opened his wall safe and extracted a red folder marked TOP SECRET. Griffin knew what it was — and he wished Patrick would put it back in the safe where it belonged. “My last recommendation: Get your ground-recon plan to Kuzner ASAP and press him on it. Get in contact with Dave Luger and Hal Briggs at Air Battle Force for help. They have gadgets and weapons you won’t believe.”

“We’ll plan this thing together, sir,” Griffin said. “I’ll go with you to the battle-staff area.”

“Negative. I want you to get your ground-ops plan forwarded to Air Force right away. I want to see it kicked off in eight hours.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of it.” He stuck out a hand. “You haven’t been here long, Patrick, but I already know I’d follow you to hell and back if you asked me to go.” Patrick smiled, shook Griffin’s hand, nodded, and left to report to the battle-staff area for the videoconference.

Gary Houser showed up moments after Patrick did. Patrick stood at attention as Houser stormed over to him. “I’m getting on a plane in a few hours to report to Strategic Command headquarters to explain what the hell happened here today,” Houser said angrily. “My boss and his senior staff, the entire Strategic Command senior staff, half the senior staff from NORAD, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and undoubtedly the secretary of defense will be grilling me on what you did today. What am I supposed to tell them? I think you’ve flipped out or something. Is that what you think I should tell them?” He stepped toward Patrick until he was almost nose to nose with him. “I just have one question for you, General McLanahan,” Houser said. “What in hell do you want?”

“Want, sir?”

“What do you want, McLanahan?” Houser barked, standing just inches from Patrick, leaning down to snarl directly into his face. “Do you really want to be in the Air Force, or do you want to go out in a blaze of glory? Do you want to serve your country, or do you just want to soothe your own bruised and battered ego? Do you want to destroy the careers of those around you, or are you crazy enough to believe that what you’re doing here is the right thing?”

“Sir…” And then Patrick stopped and locked his eyes on his two-star commander. Houser’s eyes blazed, and a jaw muscle twitched. “Gary, I’m getting sick and tired of putting up with your bullshit.”

“What in hell did you just say?” Houser shouted.

“I said, I’m not going to put up with your bullshit anymore,” Patrick repeated. “I gave you information on what could possibly be a major attack against the United States, and all you can do is blow me off. I contacted NORAD and the Pentagon because you’re too full of yourself to do it.”

“Get the hell out of here, McLanahan, before I—”

“I’ve been ordered by General Kuzner to brief the Joint Chiefs on the alert I issued NORAD,” Patrick said. “I’m staying. You’re not going to have a chance to weasel out of this.”

“Weasel out…?”

“I’m going to give my information to the JCS, Gary, and then you can tell them why you chose to ignore it.”

Houser shook his head. “You’ve gone off the deep end, McLanahan,” he said. “I always knew you were a loner and a little strange, but now I know you’ve just completely lost it. Your career is over, my friend. Not only have you disobeyed a lawful order, but you have some sort of delusional problem that makes you a danger to the United States in any sort of command position.

“As soon as this briefing is over, pal, you’re relieved of duty as Nine-sixty-sixth commander. I will prefer charges against you for disobeying a direct order and for insubordination. You will report to your quarters and await the convening of a court-martial. And if I can, I’ll make sure you spend the last remaining years of your career in a military prison camp.”

“Gary, all you’ve done since I’ve arrived at Lackland is threaten me,” Patrick said. “That’s not leadership — that’s tyranny. I’ll be glad to get the hell out of here, even if it’s to a prison cell, as long as I don’t have to put up with your adolescent nonsense again. Sir.”

4

Over Eastern Siberia, Nine Hundred Kilometers

Northeast of Yakutsk, Russian Federation

That same time