'I submit, sir, that the war has already started. This is an outgrowth of the Scandinavian invasion last year. If you like, it is a direct outgrowth of the coup in '91. These things don't happen in a vacuum. They are part and parcel of an overall body of events, decisions, and acts carried out by Russia's current batch of leaders. They are trying to secure power for themselves. Historically, the best way to do that is to get into a war with someone else. It takes the people's minds off empty bellies, boosts industrial productivity, and creates employment. It seems to me that it was inevitable that the Russians would attack us.'
'Nonsense,' Heideman said. 'They already have a war… their own civil war.'
'Not the same thing, Mr. Secretary. Not the same thing at all. A war with foreign enemies helps them get their people to pull together, while civil war divides them. Case in point: Revolutionary France in the 1780s and '90s.
They were weak and divided, but they went on to declare war against most of Europe. United their own country, and eventually got an emperor, Napoleon.
Or there's revolutionary Iran in the late 1970s-'
'We're not here to discuss history, Admiral,' Waring said.
'We're discussing the Russian problem.'
'Perhaps Admiral Magruder is suggesting that we can better understand our own times if we understand the lessons of history,' the Chief of Staff said.
'Certainly, I would have to agree with the premise that we cannot count on the, um, good will, the respect and good intentions, of Krasilnikov and his gang of thugs.'
'So, Admiral,' George Vane said. He gave an uncomfortable glance in Heidman's direction. 'Are you suggesting that we attack them? An escalation at this point…'
Magruder sighed. They'd been over this set of arguments countless times since the crisis had broken late Thursday night ? Friday morning in the Kola Peninsula. 'My personal recommendation, Mr. Secretary, would be to sink that Typhoon that slipped out of Polyamyy during the battle. Admiral Tarrant seems to believe the two events are connected, that the air strike could have been providing cover for that Russian PLARB. If so, hitting the sub would be a valid, measured response to their attack against our carriers.'
'But they didn't hit our carriers, Admiral,' Heideman said, sounding exasperated. 'We must not overreact!'
'It was by God's grace alone they didn't blow both the Eisenhower and the Jefferson clean out of the water, sir. They did sink one ship and damage several others. Hundreds of lives have been lost, most of them on the Blakely. Several of our aircraft have been shot down, and if they missed the carriers, it was thanks to our people's vigilance, not for lack of the Russians trying!'
'But to just go out and sink their submarine…' Vane began.
'Okay, sir,' Magruder said, spreading his hands. He was having more and more trouble containing his impatience. 'If you don't like that, another response would be an alpha strike, a bombing raid against the airfields from which those air attacks were launched. We know which ones were involved. If you want to pretend to believe that mutineers launched that attack, fine. Hit the bases that launched the planes and missiles. Knock out the radar and SAM sites. Send them a message that we're not going to stand for this kind of provocation.'
'And be guilty of greater provocation ourselves!' West pointed out.
Magruder shrugged pointedly. 'I must also point out that we have Resolution 982 to consider. Our response to the Russian attack could incorporate the UN mandate as our moral imperative for involving ourselves in the Kola.'
Resolution 982 had been passed by the UN Security Council a month earlier, just after the violent coup that had ousted Leonov. It condemned any use of nuclear weapons in Russia's civil war and called for UN control of all of Russia's nuclear weapons, including her ICBM submarines. Needless to say, all parties in Russia had flatly rejected the idea, and so far, the resolution had served only to further isolate the bloodily fragmented nation.
Still, Resolution 982 provided the legal framework for any future intervention in Russia's affairs.
'Until we have more, um, decisive backing from the UN,' Waring pointed out, 'Nine eighty-two is little more than pretty words. We must consider the Russian response to our presence off their coast.'
'Indeed,' West said. 'It is possible that Moscow is simply responding to our provocation. We, after all, are the ones who sent two carrier battle groups into their waters. We should remain sensitive to their perceptions of the situation.'
Magruder sighed and settled back in his seat. Clearly, this was going to be a long and bloodthirsty session.
CHAPTER 17
Galveston was cruising toward the edge of the ice pack at a depth of eight hundred feet, still on silent routine, still dogging the wake of the Typhoon submarine that had set out from Polyamyy over fifty hours earlier.
The Typhoon had been traveling slowly, barely making ten knots, sometimes slowing or suddenly reversing course as if checking for shadows, a maneuver American submariners referred to as 'Crazy Ivan.' Galveston followed cautiously, silently, remaining in the Russian sub's baffles, quick to go dead in the water at each Crazy Ivan, remaining nearly motionless as the Russian Typhoon slowly, like a self-propelled island, rumbled past, once passing only a few hundred yards to starboard. The Typhoon was half again as long as the Galveston and was over four times more massive. A collision would have crumpled the Los Angeles attack sub's hull like tinfoil.
Faithful to Schedule-3, Galveston rose every six hours to within three hundred feet of the surface, unreeling a long antenna cable in her wake capable of receiving extremely low-frequency radio waves, or ELF. For over fifty hours, no new orders had come through, and each time, Galveston returned to her hiding place within the sheltering cone of turbulent water spun off from the Typhoon's twin screws.
Through most of that time, Sonarman First Class Ekhart had led the chase, sitting in the sonar compartment, ears encased in the sonar headset, a far-away glaze to his eyes as he followed in his mind the movements of the giant ahead. For the past hour, the target, Sierra Nine, had been probing the edge of the Barents Sea ice pack, rising gradually until her conning tower was brushing just beneath the rugged white ceiling of the ice.
Though Galveston was some ten to twelve miles south of the ice pack, Ekhart was still having to rely on every trick in the book ? and several that weren't in the book as well ? to make sense out of what he was hearing. Sound was curiously distorted beneath the ice, where sounds reflected from the surface as though from a wall, and the ice itself filled the depths with crackling, popping, and rasping noises that masked the stealthy sounds of soft- gliding submarines.
Suddenly, he snapped upright, every muscle taut. 'Control room! Sonar!'
'Captain. Whatcha got, Ekhart?'
'Flushing noises, Captain, followed by ice breaking. I think Sierra Nine has just come up under a polynya.'
Flushing sounds meant ballast tanks being blown. Sierra Nine was surfacing. Polynya was Russian for a lead in the ice, either an open pool or an area where the water was only thinly iced over. A ballistic-missile sub could not fire its warloads through the ice. It would have to surface first before launching.
Which appeared to be precisely what Sierra Nine was doing.
'Message from Captain First Rank Dobrynin, Comrade Admiral,' the aide said, handing Karelin the message flimsy. 'Slavnyy Oktyabrskaya Revolutsita is in position.'
Karelin glanced at the message, then handed it back. 'At last,' he said.
