Noticeably absent was the Secretary of Defense, the elder statesman of the group. Bob Katoss, the pipe-smoking sixty-five-year-old who refused to wear suits, only cardigan sweaters and open-necked shirts. The political cartoons regularly depicted him wearing bunny slippers with the outfit. Katoss was from the old school, refusing to suffer fools, refusing to smile at those he did not respect.
In short, refusing to be a politician. Donchez considered him a breath of fresh air; Pacino wasn’t so sure; he wondered if the man’s pugnacious exterior perhaps fronted for an inadequate intellect and a cold heart.
Katoss had been retired for five years, his detractors frequently said, and in fact, at this critical meeting, Katoss was unapologetically on vacation in the Bahamas. Pacino was glad for the man’s absence and wondered why President Warner had chosen him, but then who knew what political obligations she had had?
The Secretary of the Navy was likewise missing, President Warner having sent him on a mission to Africa with the chief of Naval Operations, Adm. Anthony Wadsworth, a tough black man, an inch taller than Pacino and who at 250 pounds had been a boxer at the Academy. He and Pacino had crossed paths a decade before when Pacino’s first submarine, Devilfish, had been involved in an exercise against Wadsworth, who then was a full captain and the commanding officer of the aircraft carrier Eisenhower. Pacino had had orders to sneak up on Wadsworth’s carrier and act as the aggressor submarine, and Wadsworth’s antisubmarine warfare ships, the destroyers and frigates, were tasked with finding Pacino and Devilfish first. The exercise signal that the operation order specified was a flare, purple smoke, to be fired from Devilfish’s signal ejector to indicate that the submarine was shooting torpedoes at the aircraft carrier. Wadsworth hadn’t planned on Pacino getting in close, since he was scouring the seas around the Eisenhower with S-2 Vikings and the towed array sonar systems of his escort ships.
It had taken Pacino all day to set up to penetrate the antisubmarine net around the carrier but he finally had sneaked in past the outer barriers and had gotten in close. He could have simply launched a series of purple flares from the center of the task force, but somehow that didn’t seem enough. Pacino had maneuvered Devilfish directly beneath the Eisenhower, steamed up on her port side, the opposite side of the ship from the island and bridge. Pacino had launched a purple flare from the signal ejector, filming it from the periscope as it arced high in the sky and landed on Wadsworth’s flight deck. The carrier flight-deck crew had panicked, not expecting the burst of purple smoke from out of nowhere. The crew had treated it like a fire, stringing out hoses, alarms blaring. Pacino had gone deep, increased speed to flank and pulled away from the carrier, then when he was a mile away, had come back up to periscope depth and taken a panoramic photograph of the Eisenhower, the purple smoke obscuring half the deck, frantic firefighters scrambling to put out the flames.
Back in port after the incident, the squadron commander had called Pacino to his stateroom on the tender and chewed him out for a quarter-hour. Wadsworth had apparently put up a stink about Pacino violating safety rules with the flammable smoke grenade, not to mention violating the Oporder and showing that a lone submarine could humiliate the carrier battle group’s antisubmarine defenses and get close enough to poop a flare onto the carrier’s deck, which, of course, was the idea. All that saved Pacino’s career was that at the time Admiral Donchez was Commander Submarines US Atlantic Fleet, and had admired Pacino’s gutsy move. But even Donchez had taken Pacino aside to tell him to save his aggression for real combat and not embarrass politically connected senior officers.
When a few months later Wadsworth had held a reception on board the Eisenhower for the fleet staff, one of Pacino’s junior officers had presented Wadsworth with a framed four-foot-wide blowup of the periscope photograph of Eisenhower with her deck half-obscured by purple smoke, the crosshairs on the picture leaving no doubt who had taken the photo. Another junior officer had snapped a shot of Wadsworth looking at the huge photo, his mouth wide open in shock and anger. That photo had been framed and hung on the bulkhead of Devilfish’s wardroom. The incident had been somewhat typical of Pacino’s approach to life and to command before the arctic mission Donchez had sent him on, the one that had led to Devilfish’s sinking. The years before that ice-cap mission now seemed so remote as to be from somebody else’s life, but the fallout from them was still real, including Wadsworth’s feelings about Pacino.
Pacino emerged from his reminiscence to look at Donchez, closeted as he was with men who were as difficult for him as Wadsworth was for Pacino. Sitting in the chairs next to Leach were Air Force general Felix Clough, the outgoing Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Army general Kurt Sverdlov, the newly nominated chairman. Pacino knew Donchez and Clough shared a professional dislike that went back decades, based partly on each man’s disregard for the other’s service. But Clough was a lame duck, and Sverdlov and Donchez seemed to be forming a close working relationship, Sverdlov apparently realizing that having a friend at NSA could help him. Meanwhile, Donchez was no longer in the Navy or in competition with Sverdlov the way he had once been with Clough. Pacino knew that Donchez hoped that when Leach was gone he would inherit CIA, and from that point on, the Blowtorch notwithstanding, he would have a seamless, functional network surrounding and leading up to the president.
As if cued by Pacino’s thought, President Jaisal Warner swept into the office with aides in tow, her low-voiced orders flying to each until she reached her seat and dismissed them. The men in the room all stood as if someone had called them to attention. Warner waved them to their seats. Pacino tried not to stare at her, but wasn’t successful.
Jaisal Warner was only in her second year in office, yet it was already a charmed administration. Warner had come into office almost unopposed, the previous incumbent withdrawing from the race for reasons of health, his announcement coming just after Warner was nominated. His party’s nomination was a tired old senator who was in the race for show.
Warner’s campaign had focused on her energy and competence as the remarkably successful governor of California, where her hard-nosed leadership had pulled the state out of severe financial troubles. After the governorship she had become the state’s junior senator yet had been named to the Armed Services Committee, making news with her proposals on revolutionizing the military. She had become something of a media darling, as well as of even the military and the American people over a period of ten years. Her campaign slogan still graced the bumpers of countless cars, the green letters proclaiming on a white field: JAISAL WARNER — JUST GET OUT OF HER WAY.
Even her name was symbolic of her rise to power — the name Jaisal was Indian for “victory.” Her first hundred days in office had been a thunderstorm of activity as she cleaned house in the government, eliminating half the government bureaucracy and replacing the administrators with handpicked replacements. She made the cover of Time three times in two years, one caption reading: JAISAL CLEANS UP, the next: WARNER’S MACHINE, the third: GOVERNMENT NOW WORKS! the last in capital letters with an exclamation point. Warner seemed to live for crises, Donchez had once remarked to Pacino. She often quoted wartime leaders, her favorites Winston Churchill, the two Roosevelts, Eisenhower, even Nixon, but her clear number one was Margaret Thatcher.
Warner stood now in front of the large chair at the desk end of the couch-and-chair arrangement. She was in her late forties, and remained a very beautiful woman. She wore a dark suit, the skirt midlength, with a cream silk blouse, a small diamond necklace at her throat. Her hair was cut in a bob, the straw color graying but attractive. Her hands were graceful, her fingers long and unadorned by rings. Her husband had died when she was in the Senate, and she had never remarried, all her energy pouring into her job. Her eyes were dark and unreadable, but the lines around her mouth seemed to indicate her concern. When she spoke, her voice was clear.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said. “Please sit down.” She remained standing herself. “I assume you’r
e all up to speed on what’s happened in Greater Manchuria. I think you should all see this.” She nodded at an aide, who passed out folders.
Pacino opened his, finding an advance copy of the next week’s Time magazine. On the cover was: JAPAN STRIKES AGAIN. Pacino opened the old-fashioned paper magazine, this version the one that would be sold on the newsstands.
Magazines had gone digital four years before so that they could be downloaded onto a Writepad personal notesheet computer, but some people, particularly the over-fifty generation, preferred a hardcopy to hold in their hands, so the glossy paper version continued to be published. A photo of Kurita was shown, the caption quoting him as saying Japan had nothing to do with the attack. Another picture showed the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs spokesman issuing the statement that the bombing was justified to eliminate the threat of the nuclear weapons in Greater Manchuria, making Kurita an instant liar. The lack of coordination of the Japanese government was astonishing, as it added even more to the picture of Kurita as a treacherous operative. Next was a story on the growing sentiment of Americans to “do something” about Japan, the bar graphs showing the burgeoning anti-Japanese sentiment. A final article profiled the US military, showing the possible military options that could be used against Japan. No one had attacked the US directly, but the mood of America now approached the intensity of feeling immediately before Pearl Harbor, if Time’s graphics were to be trusted.
“So, let’s talk about how I see what’s going on here before we open this up to discussion,” Warner said. “First, Japan, feeling threatened by Greater Manchuria because of the possibility that Greater Manchuria could attack Tokyo, decides to take out the Greater Manchurian nuclear weapons. Next, Kurita is exposed doing what he denies.”
“I suggest two ways of looking at this. One, the Greater Manchurian nuclear weapons were dangerous and destabilizing. The Japanese in one sense did our work for us.” Warner rubbed her eyelids, looking tired for a second.
“Now the nukes are gone and the East Chinese or the West Chinese or the Russians may invade Greater Manchuria and take over their territory. One headache gone, a bigger new one replaces it. This is unacceptable for us, we need a real balance of power there, not one all-powerful Far East nation.”
“Now focus on Japan. We can say, for argument, that Greater Manchuria had no intentions of threatening Tokyo whatsoever, that their missiles were a deterrent to Russia and the Chinas. The attack by Japan on continental Asia is another example of Japan’s new militarism. Let’s look at the last five years. We essentially stopped trade between Japan and America. Europe followed suit. Japan was hurt, and badly. They turned their industrial strengths into rearming, building up a threatening military.”
Pacino could almost hear in Warner’s words Donchez’s briefing. She must have liked it, found it convincing, because here she was speaking just as Donchez had a few days ago.
“Next we see a Japanese strike against an Asian nation. They took matters into their own hands rather than consulting with the rest of the world. Our response now is critical. If we look the other way, we encourage Japan to keep using its military. Some of my advisors indicate that in another five years or less, Japan could well invade continental Asia and expand. They would have an empire greater than in 1941. And that means China, Korea, Greater Manchuria, Indonesia, southeast Asia, all of it, back in aggressive Japanese hands. By then, there would be no stopping Japan without a major blood bath involving another world war. On the other hand, we could move in and stop this now, and turn the tide. How many of us would argue, if we could go back in time, with stopping Hitler when he tried to make his move into the Sudetenland? We could have averted World War II. An early confrontation avoids a later war, if we learn anything from history. So, in spite of Japan’s military strength, or because of it, I believe we should seriously discuss a military option. I am also open to other options. I’d like to go around the room now and ask each of you for your opinion.”
Warner was famous for this approach, Pacino thought. Her advisors hated it, but it allowed her to get to a decision quickly at the risk of generating great conflict among the cabinet. Warner was convinced she could manage the clashing egos, but the recent resignation of the attorney general had shaken the administration, and his replacement had yet to be chosen.
“Alex, you get the honor of speaking up first.” Alex Addison was the soft-spoken chief of staff. He was fiercely protective of the president and her schedule but otherwise — as Donchez had described him — he would mostly be a good guy to have a beer with. He was short and balding but trim and well-dressed, still in his suit coat while the rest of the men were in shirtsleeves.
“Thank you, Madam President,” Addison began so softly that Pacino had to strain to hear. “I think we should hammer the Japanese. We’ve always been reasonable with them, but now they need to be taught a lesson — that they can’t just attack a neighbor without retribution.”
“Short and strong and to the point, Alex. What about the people? Remember Vietnam. Do you think the voters feel as you do?”
“Yes, Madam President, though I’d leave the specifics of a military option to the pros.” Addison nodded at the generals and to Pacino. “Indeed, I believe the people are very tired of the way we have tiptoed around Japan.”
“We cut off nearly all trade with them after they tried to raid AT&T and IBM.”
“Right, and they still flourish.”
“It has hurt them—”
“And they are more dangerous than ever. I believe the American people would support a military option.”
“Thank you, Alex. Al?”
Vice President Meckstar cleared his throat and stretched his neck. “Well, we can’t just go in there bombing and shooting. We have to have a clear objective. We have to figure out what we want. I’d say our position should be that we are going after Japan to dismantle their military. After all, their own constitution prohibits them from having a military.”
“We blew off that rationale during the Cold War with Russia,” National Security Advisor Cogster said. “Kind of hard to invoke it now, over a half-century later.”
“Getting back to our objective, Al?” Warner prompted.
“Yes. We want the Japanese to dismantle any more of these dirty radiation bombs, decommission their navy and sell their fighter planes. They won’t do it, so we help them.”
Cogster interrupted, “You’re talking about an invasion. Does anyone here remember their freshman year history? This is the country we dropped two nuclear weapons on to avoid invading.”
“Good point, Steve,” President Warner said to Cogster. “Well, Phil, it’s time for some of your inimitable wisdom,” Warner said to Secretary of State Phil Gordon, walked to the back of the desk, parted the curtains and stared out at the city.
“I’ve been thinking about this for some time,” Gordon said. Pacino leaned forward. “If we go in for an invasion, we go too far. We lose — millions killed, loss of prestige. If we do nothing, we do too little. Much too little. Loss of world respect, administration appears weak—”
“That’s not going to happen,” Warner said, her voice momentarily rising. She frowned, hearing it.
“Absolutely not. Madam President. So we’re walking a tightrope, as usual. The middle course seems the best all around. We put up a blockade around Japan. Nothing goes in. Nothing comes out. They’ll be in serious domestic turmoil within three months. Before that happens I believe they’ll let us inspect their weapons, even allow us to take away the nastier ones, quietly let the air force and navy decline. By then, some new crisis will come up, the revolution in India and that wild man Nipun, and we can let Japan save some face. We mostly need to worry about how to prop up Greater Manchuria for the next month or so.”
“Great,” Cogster said. “Our best option according to Phil is to starve the Japanese. The little children starve to death on the APN network, bellies all swollen, tears coming down their sweet dirty faces, and it will be our f
ault. Or worse.”
“Worse?” Warner asked. “Yes, ma’am. The Japanese could well come out fighting. That is their heritage and history, after all.”
“And what would they do? What is their capacity?”
“Perhaps our Admiral Pacino should answer that question,” General Clough said. The people in the room all turned to stare at Pacino. The moment he had dreaded. Well, time to get on with it, he thought.
“Since setting up and enforcing a blockade is an act of war,” he began, “we had better remember that the Japanese have a blue-water navy made up entirely of submarine assets. Their air force is formidable. Several squadrons of Firestar fighters. As I’m sure General Clough knows, the Firestar fighters are considered more than a match for our F-16s, F-15s and F-14s. The F/A-18 stands a slight chance, and the AFX advanced fighter has technology almost as good. Almost. As far as the Maritime Self Defense Force is concerned, half of the subs are the new Destiny III class, computer-controlled and extremely quiet. The other half are the Destiny II class, the earlier manned vessels. Also quiet and lethal. Just one of these submarines lurking off the coast of Japan would make a battle-group commander think twice about setting up a blockade. But it’s more than one. There are almost thirty of these killer subs. Some are being built, some are being repaired or refitted, but our latest estimates show between twenty-two and twenty-six vessels.”
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