Plan of Attack

and Cheshire, are the only ones capable of employing the weapon systems here. On the other hand, all of us have experience leading B-52, B-1, and B-2 bombers into combat.”

“McLanahan, I don’t have time for this. Put it in writing and submit it to—”

“Sir,” General Venti said with a firmness that surprised the secretary of defense. He turned away from the camera, speaking directly to Goff as privately as he could in front of a camera. “Whatever you think of Patrick McLanahan, sir, may I remind you that he predicted exactly what has happened,” Venti said. “He saw the signs and wasn’t afraid to make the call. We all saw the same data, but we never allowed ourselves to believe it would happen.”

“So what, General?”

“At the very least, sir, McLanahan deserves a listen,” Venti said. “We’re threatening to put the guy in prison — I wouldn’t have blamed him if he went home, packed up his family, and hightailed it up to Lake Tahoe. But he didn’t. He made it to Battle Mountain, got into a flight suit, and put a plan together to deal with this emergency.”

Venti was right, Goff thought, but he wasn’t ready to admit it. He turned to the chief of naval operations. “Admiral Andover?”

“I’ve made my opinions known already, sir — McLanahan is a menace and should not even be in a military uniform, let alone being considered to lead a military unit into combat,” Andover responded. “Sir, give me a few days and I’ll brief a combined-forces operation—”

“How many Russian targets can the fleet hold at risk without using nuclear weapons, Admiral?” Goff asked. “A couple dozen? A couple hundred — as long as the shooters can safely move within a few hundred miles of the shore? And how much time do you think we have?”

“We’ve got as much time as we need, sir — and we sure as hell have enough time to consider options other than sending Patrick McLanahan. And I damned well know that the U.S. Navy can put many more targets at risk than one Reserve unit can. And if a nuclear strike is necessary, the Navy can exercise that option, too — McLanahan can’t.”

“Sir, Battle Mountain’s planes, the Megafortresses, are some of the most high-tech aircraft left in our arsenal,” Venti went on. “They are designed for SEAD — suppression of enemy air defenses — and antiballistic- missile defense, but they also pack a considerable precision standoff attack capability. Although the unit itself is not operational and all of its aircraft are considered experimental, McLanahan’s Air Battle Force and Furness’s One- eleventh Attack Wing of the Nevada Air National Guard have proven themselves in combat many times, from United Korea to Libya to Central Asia to western Russia.” He shrugged and added, “And no one else in the Air Force except General Terrill Samson knows much, if anything, about them — and Samson is apparently one of the casualties at Offutt.”

Goff shook his head. He expected Venti, an Air Force general, to support his fellow blue-suiters. Most Joint Chiefs chairmen had biases toward their own services. “And I’m supposed to forget the fact that he disregards directives and busts the chain of command to suit himself?” Goff asked. He rubbed his eyes in exasperation. “Richard, McLanahan is a good guy, but I just can’t trust him. He’s the definition of ‘loose cannon.’ The president doesn’t trust him. Even Gryzlov wants his head on a plate. Why on earth should I allow him back in uniform? Damn it, General, I sure as hell shouldn’t allow him back at Battle Mountain, with access to all those fancy high-tech aircraft and weapons — God knows what he might do, or what he might be doing right now! ”

Venti took a deep breath, ready to argue — but he couldn’t. He found himself nodding agreement. “Sir, at least consider this: It’ll take Zoltrane and Griffin a few hours to get up to speed and report in — and they won’t have a plan ready until they can assemble their own battle staffs and pull packages off the shelf. Until we assess the status of the ICBM and bomber fleets, the only other option is the sea-launched nukes. Long before we have a plan, the subs will be in position — and the Russians know this.”

“So?”

“Whatever the Russians will do next, sir, they’ll do it before the boomers get into launch position,” Venti said. “The sub bases in Washington State and Georgia, the remaining bomber bases, Europe, NATO, Washington, they’ll all be at risk — unless you believe that the Russians really will stop?”

Goff’s eyes unconsciously widened. “Do you think this could be the prelude to a wider attack?”

“I don’t know, sir — but right now we’re totally on the defensive until the subs get into launch position,” Venti said. “The Russians have the complete advantage of surprise and position. We can’t do much no matter where they move next. It could take us days or weeks to plan and organize a response by sea or a special-operations mission, and weeks to months to plan a ground offensive.” He took another deep breath. “I see two options right now, sir: Listen to McLanahan’s plan, or plan a strike using the subs in about forty-eight hours.”

“A nuclear strike?” Goff asked.

Venti nodded. “But I don’t think the president will authorize it,” he said. “Do you, sir?” Goff responded with silence. “Then I recommend we hear what McLanahan has to say.”

One Hundred Fifty Kilometers Northeast

of Shemya Island, Alaska

That same time

Stand by for final launch run, crew,” radioed the bombardier aboard the lead Tupolev-160 Blackjack bomber. “Final radar fix in progress, stand by for transfer-alignment maneuver. Radar to radiate…now.”

The bombardier activated his radarscope, already preset to the proper range and tilt for the fastest and sharpest return — and there it was, right where he predicted it would be: the American island of Shemya, almost at the very end of the Aleutian Island chain. This little flat rock in the ocean was one of America’s most important surveillance outposts: Its COBRA DANE radar could monitor each and every Russian land-and sea-launched ballistic-missile test fired into the Pacific instrumented target range, and electronic listening posts collected broadcasts from Russian and Chinese military bases half a world away. It was also a linchpin in America’s new and highly illegal ballistic-missile defense system.

In short, it was going away — right now.

Although they had initiated their attacks on America’s bases in Alaska hours ago, it had taken this long to fly back across the Bering Sea to get into position to strike this last but no less important target. After this, it was an easy cruise back to the air-refueling track to rendezvous with the tankers operating out of Yakutsk, and then an easy ride home.

The radar crosshairs were less than a hundred meters off the aimpoint — the COBRA DANE antenna itself — so the bombardier laid them back on, magnified the image to ensure they were on the right spot — the northernmost corner of the massive array — checked the aimpoint coordinates, and then pressed the RADAR FIX button. The precise radar fix, combined with GLONASS satellite-navigation signals, would help keep the Tu-160’s inertial navigator properly aligned. Thirty seconds later the navigation computer dumped velocity, heading, and position information to the four remaining Kh-15 nuclear missiles in the forward bomb bay.

“Fix complete,” he reported. “Stand by for TAL maneuver. Left turn, thirty degrees of bank, ten seconds… now.” The pilot commanded the autopilot to accomplish the turn. The TAL, or transfer alignment maneuver, “exercised” the inertial-navigation system and allowed a known quantity of velocity readings to fine-tune it. “Hold heading for twelve seconds…. Good, now right turn, center up the heading bug. Remaining on this heading. Three minutes to launch point. TAL complete, all remaining missiles reporting ready for launch. Confidence is high.”

The Tu-160 was traveling at one thousand kilometers per hour at an altitude of one hundred meters above the Bering Sea. His course would take him about a hundred kilometers north of Shemya, out of range of any Patriot surface-to-air missiles the Americans may have placed there. The American naval base at Adak Island had been closed for a few years now, but there was no use taking chances; besides, they had plenty of fuel to make it back to the refueling anchor and to the first alternate landing site if they couldn’t make their refueling. They’d had training missions twice as long and many times more complex than this. But it was strange that the Americans didn’t place defensive weapon systems around their own bases. Obviously, they thought themselves invincible to attack — even way out here along the Aleutian Islands, where Shemya was half as close to Russia than it was to Juneau, the Alaskan capital.

Russia had proved this day how very wrong the Americans were. America was not invincible. In fact, this attack was unbelievably easy. They had detected just two American fighters during their entire two-hour attack run into Alaska, and the fighters had zoomed right over them without locking on even for a