by David Poyer
Staurulakis’s voice became guarded, official. “We’re on a cell, Captain. I can’t pass operational details.”
He thought of asking for a hint, but dismissed that. “Uh, all right, I understand.”
A tap at the door. Blair’s voice. “Who’re you talking to in there?”
“Just on the phone. Sorry,” he called.
Staurulakis asked, all but overlaid by the blustering wind: “Are you coming back to us, Captain? Will they let you return?”
“Um, I’ll have to get back to you on that,” he murmured, and shortly thereafter, ended the call.
* * *
“WANT me to drive?” Blair was examining herself in a full-length mirror. She’d come out of the bedroom in a gray belted jacket and a skirt with pleats and black heels. Hair brushed back, and already made up. He’d never understood how she could do full makeup in less time than it took him to shave. In the morning light he noted crow’s-feet starting around her eyes, the faint, sad signs of passing time. Her hair was swept to one side, to cover the withered, reddened bud of her reconstructed ear.
“Yeah, that’d be nice. Uh—thanks for appearing with me.”
She came up close and fiddled with his ribbons. Flicked something off his lapel. “I’m not with you. That wouldn’t be smart for either of us, Dan. We’ll go in separately. I’ll be third row back in the audience.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and an air hug. “But I’ll be rooting for you. Good luck. I mean that. What we were talking about last night?”
“Yeah?”
“That was worst case. I hope they give you your cruiser back. I really do. But after that, we’ve got to have that serious talk you keep promising me.”
As she drove him in along Lee Highway he paged through the briefing cards from the murder board the day before. The general and his assistant, both retired marines, had set up the scene at the hearing, led him through the opening formalities, and helped him prepare a brief statement. Then they’d cross-examined him like not one but two bad cops. He’d come out sopping with sweat, but with these points memorized:
1. Don’t say anything unless they ask you.
2. Don’t argue back if they start pontificating for the cameras.
3. Don’t show off.
4. Don’t make news.
5. Don’t advocate anything different from what the Navy’s currently doing.
6. Don’t act as if you know how the hearing will turn out.
“But above all, once you’ve answered the question, shut up,” the general had said. “Just answer what they ask, in the simplest terms possible. Demonstrate knowledge of the issues, act happy to explain so they understand too, but don’t get lost down in the weeds. Especially, beware of yes-or-no questions. They’re usually setups, to make you look like an idiot. How does a fish get caught?”
“Um … what’s that?” Dan had asked with a frown.
“He opens his mouth. Old Russian proverb. The longer yours stays open, the better the chance you’ll come out with something asinine. Especially, Nick says, in your case. And he apparently has plans, or he wouldn’t be going to the trouble of asking me to prep you. So write that on your hand if you have to. Let’s hear it again.”
“How does a fish get caught?” hissed the major.
“He opens his mouth,” Dan muttered. Clenching his teeth, he visualized them laced shut with stainless wire.
* * *
THE Intelligence, Emerging Threats and Capabilities Subcommittee met in the Sam Rayburn House Office Building. He’d been in this marble mausoleum before, during a hearing on Tomahawk appropriations. But it didn’t feel welcoming. More than one military officer had torn his bottom out on these reefs. There wasn’t really any visitor parking, but Blair had called in a favor from someone on the Armed Services staff, and they had a space for the day in the parking garage.
But first the car had to be searched. Standing there watching the cops wand its trunk, Dan wondered how many millions of man-hours the 9/11 terrorists had cost the taxpayer. He marveled at how thoroughly a few fanatics had transformed an America that had prided itself on its openness, its trust.
Blair pulled through and found the space, in a corner. They were headed for the elevator when a Hungarian-accented voice echoed. “Mr. Lenson.”
Dan turned. Three civilians were strolling toward them between the concrete pillars. “Dr. Szerenci,” he said.
His old professor was in a gray suit and a pale blue tie, with the American flag pin in the lapel that had become de rigueur for every right-thinking official, as if to dispel any doubts. His hair had platinumed at the temples; aside from that, he looked as he had in Defense Analysis class at George Washington. Hawklike. Intent. And short. He also wore glasses now—retro, intellectual-looking horn-rims. The men with him stopped several steps back, gazes roving the garage. Szerenci inclined his head to Blair. “Ms. Titus. Good to see you again. Understand you’re running this fall? You’re here in support of your husband?”
“Hello, Ed. Nice to see you, too.” Her tone was cool. “I’m just here as a spouse. Dan can stand up for himself.”
“Of course.” Szerenci turned to him. “Sorry we had to meet like this.” They shook hands. “Congratulations, by the way, on winning the Medal.”
Dan never knew what to say to this. The Medal of Honor wasn’t “won,” but awarded, usually because you’d died performing some heroic act. Or, if not, by all rights should have. In his case, several other people had, and he wore it for them. But it felt graceless to correct a well-wisher, and explaining came across as either evasive or falsely modest. So he just nodded awkwardly. “Bravo Zulu to you, too, Doctor. National security adviser, huh? That’s really something.”
“Come on, Dan. Make it Ed. Actually, you should have seen the other names being considered. The president made the only smart choice.”
Dan glanced toward the elevator, feeling surreal here in the dusty echoing labyrinth. Szerenci smiled at Blair and pressed the Call button. One of his escorts stepped into the elevator, looked around, stepped out. Szerenci turned to Blair again, as if debating asking her to step aside, but she slid past. “You can take the next one,” she told them, and pressed the Close button. “Dan, good luck. See you upstairs.” She blew a kiss off the back of her fist as the doors began to seal.
But the steel tip of Szerenci’s umbrella shot out, and they opened again. “I have no secrets,” he said casually.
The car was large enough that his security team could board too. They took positions at either side of the door and faced it, backs to their principal, expressionless visages dimly reflected in the stainless wall.
Szerenci took off his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief. “First, if there’s any help I can offer today, please turn to me, Dan. Blair and I are on opposite sides of the aisle, but you and I, we’re both executive branch. In fact, if you have no objection, I’d like to sit with you while you testify.”
Dan gave him a quizzical side-glance. What was going on? But having a high figure in the current administration in his corner couldn’t hurt. “I appreciate that … Ed. Thanks.”
“This subcommittee usually oversees counterterrorism initiatives, and works to prevent proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. I’m not sure what they have in mind calling you. But I wanted to lend what support I could.” He lowered his voice, though his words were already almost lost in the hum of the elevator motors. “For old times’ sake. And because, as the CO of Savo Island, you’ll be in the front line of any conflict. Frankly, we need an immediate, crash upgrade to our antiballistic capabilities.”
Dan frowned down at him. “I’m hearing—around the building—that we’re looking at an increase in tension. In the Pacific.”
Szerenci shook his head in wonder. “Increase in tension—is that what they’re calling it? We’re on the brink of war. Outside capital’s fleeing the country. But I believe we’re ready.”
Dan looked at the ceiling. It was stainless too, and a blurred
image of himself peered back down. First Niles, now Szerenci, and even more direly phrased. “War, huh? I’ve seen some of it, since we were at George Washington. It’s not like the mutual-attrition equations you taught us.”
Szerenci cocked his head, gaze sharp. “Force is always the ultimate arbiter. ‘Only the dead have seen the end of war.’”
“No argument there, sir. And I respect the need for intellectual rigor. But some conflicts are different. Not so-called limited intervention, when we can pull out when we’ve had enough. We fight China, it’ll be like World War I.”
“Your illusions are almost amusing,” Szerenci said coldly. “But very well, let’s take your example. If not for that conflict, Germany would dominate the world. As it was, Britain and France waited too long.”
“Germany chose that war. Not the Allies.”
Szerenci waved a hand tiredly. “Who chooses a war? That’s like saying you choose to lose a poker hand. There’s always risk in the great-power game. We have no choice but to play.”
The elevator came to a stop on the main floor. But instead of letting the doors open, Szerenci put that umbrella tip on the Close button. And held it there.
Blair said, “Imperial Germany could’ve been incorporated into a world trade system. If the situation had been handled better, not just from the point of view of each threatened nation. Isn’t that what we should be doing with China?”
Szerenci snorted. “What have we been doing, since Nixon? But they’ve got to want to be integrated. Instead, the more powerful they get, the bigger their ambitions. And now this new guy—”
“General Zhang,” said Dan.
“Yeah, another Tojo—he’s whipping them up. I’m going to tell you something classified now.”
“I’m not asking for classified information.”
“You’ll understand why.” He lowered his voice still more. “Someone’s been probing us for a massive cyberattack.”
“We’ve heard something about that,” Blair said, though Dan wasn’t sure who “we” was there—SAIC, or her former compatriots at Defense, or the banking community her stepdad was so tight with.
“Have you? I’m talking about major, ongoing probes of our most sensitive systems. We’ve traced the hackers, and they’re out of the Second Department—Zhang’s old outfit.
“So here’s our reasoning, in the administration. Emotion must play no part. We look only at what the numbers tell us. Comparing growth rates, they’ll outproduce us in five to ten years. You won’t quote me on this, to anyone. But war now could be better than later, with a more powerful adversary that’s already rolled up our weaker allies.”
Dan took a deep breath. He’d forgotten how icy cold Szerenci could be. He could discuss megadeaths as if they were acey-deucey points, dissect and anticipate catastrophe and holocaust almost with relish. “Do we want to roll those dice?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral, as if they were back in class.
“It’s the only rational way to deal with a rising adversary that won’t comply with international rules.”
“But what’s the endgame? You can’t occupy China, the way we occupied Japan—”
The door jerked, shuddering as if desperate to open; Szererenci jabbed the Close button again. “We won’t need to. Defeat in war will trigger political change.”
Blair shook her head. “How do you figure that?”
The national security adviser smiled. “Historical precedent. Russia, 1905, 1917. Germany, 1918. Argentina, 1983.”
Dan said, “And why are you telling us? Why are you even here, Ed?”
“Because—as I said—ships like yours will be in our front line. If you look good, even if for what I might consider the wrong reasons, that helps us toward the supplemental appropriation.” He winked, and dropped his umbrella tip from the panel.
The doors whisked open, and they walked out into wide, brightly lit corridors, into a dazzling flicker of camera flashes, men and women jostling in to shout questions. Szerenci’s boys shouldered through the scrum with professional ease, until they reached the hearing room.
HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES
Committee on Armed Services
Intelligence, Emerging Threats and Capabilities Subcommittee
Washington, DC, Wednesday, June 10
The subcommittee met, pursuant to notice, at 10:00 A.M. in the Rayburn Office Building, the Honorable Beverly Maclay, chairman of the subcommittee, presiding.
MRS. MACLAY. Good morning. Today, the subcommittee will consider funding of additional increment to national antiballistic missile systems. But also, significant issues that have arisen over the proper employment of current systems, notably our mobile defensive systems, such as the ABM-capable Aegis cruisers and destroyers slated to enter the fleet in the out years of the current funding plan.
To outline the issue, I have asked Dr. Denson Hui, director, Missile Defense Agency, to address us as a backgrounder, followed by witnesses from the United States Navy, including the vice chief of naval operations, Vice Admiral Barry Nicholas Niles. Admiral Niles, good to see you here again.
ADMIRAL NILES. Likewise, ma’am. Thank you for having us.
MRS. MACLAY. I see we’re also graced with the presence of Dr. Edward Szerenci, the national security adviser. Welcome, Doctor. However, you are not testifying today, I believe.
DR. SZERENCI. I am here in support of the testimony, and to be available should you have additional questions.
Dan, Niles, and Rongstad took a long table in front of the congressmen, who were seated on a dais beneath a large seal. Niles looked taken aback by Szerenci, who bent to murmur into his ear. At last he nodded, but without enthusiasm. He pointed to a chair to Dan’s left.
As usual, at least in Dan’s experience, not all the subcommittee chairs on the dais were occupied. The subcommittee was made up of nine Republicans and eight Democrats. The chairman, Mrs. Maclay, was a moderate Republican from Kansas. Mainly because of her ready gavel, there were remarkably few partisan squabbles. She wore her gray hair in a schoolmarm bun, and spoke in a dry monotone. The others, mostly male, were in business suits, all with the same flag pin Szerenci was wearing. Dan wondered if they were issued, or if they all had to buy their own in some little kiosk in the Capitol.
The witness table was filling too, which surprised him—he’d more or less assumed he’d be on his own. But nameplates were being set out for an Asian-looking civilian in a severe gray suit and other uniformed attendees. Mostly Navy, but a few in Air Force blue and Army greens as well. When he glanced back, the rows were already filled with lieutenant commanders, majors, civilian aides. It seemed like only yesterday he’d perched back there, handing slides up to his principals as they squirmed under grillings about budget overruns, crashes, missed deadlines.
When he turned forward someone new was pushing her way onto the dais. A woman, her face not quite unfamiliar. Blond. Perhaps attractive once, but now bloated with too many Capitol Hill cocktail parties. As her blue-eyed gaze fixed on his she gave a small but unmistakable smile.
Dan sucked in his breath. He whispered to Szerenci, “Isn’t that Sandy?”
“Representative Treherne now. Seventeenth District. Tennessee.”
“That’s right. I remember.” He and Sandy Cottrell had both been students of Szerenci’s … no, Cottrell had been more than just the prof’s student … but their paths had diverged since. Hers, steadily ascendant, in both politics and an advantageous marriage, while his had bumped along the seabed. Sometimes literally. They’d met only once during the years between, at a party at the vice president’s home. “I didn’t know she was on this subcommittee.”
“She isn’t. Must be sitting in.”
The gavel fell, and the room quieted.
DR. HUI. Thank you for the chance to present the progress of our interim ballistic missile defense system. Gentlemen, ladies, unfortunately, what I am going to present really is rocket science. So I am obliged to begin with a short definition of terms.
/> As you know, several nations which find it in their internal interest to present us as an adversary are developing, or have developed, short- to medium-range ballistic missile systems. These are what we refer to as “theater” ballistic missiles. The intercontinental ballistic missile is treated under a different legal and technical regime. The purpose of our defensive systems is not to substitute for our offensive weapons, but to strengthen deterrence by holding off a surprise attack until we can muster our offensive capabilities—to add flexibility to the range of our military and political responses.
It is difficult to exaggerate the technical challenge. We are required to guide a warhead at seventeen thousand miles an hour, intercepting a terminal reentry vehicle—the warhead—which is also traveling at around that velocity. We’re trying to hit an object the size of a wastebasket seventy miles up, at a combined closing rate of thirty-plus thousand miles an hour. As you might imagine, this isn’t simple. A lot of subsystems have to work perfectly, within a very narrow time window—what we call the latency period.
The flight path of the enemy missile takes place in three phases. The boost phase extends from the launch pad to engine burnout, at the edge of space. This is the point at which “ballistic” flight begins. The midcourse phase extends from burnout to reentry into the atmosphere. The terminal phase follows the reentry body, the warhead, to its target.
Our current state of the art in sensors limits us to interceptions within the two latter regimes, midphase and terminal phase. Terminal phase TMD systems comprise Patriot, THAAD, and the Israeli Iron Dome. Midcourse intercept systems include Arrow and the Navy’s Aegis-based Standard system. It is this last system we are concerned with today, I understand?
MRS. MACLAY. This is correct.
DR. HUI. I will then hand off to Captain Widermann, for the Navy Missile Office.
MRS. MACLAY. Good morning, Captain. Again, let me welcome you and the other DoD members who have come here today to testify.
CAPTAIN WIDERMANN. Thank you, Madam Chairman. The Navy has been entrusted with a growing role in national strategic-level missile defense because of certain inherent advantages naval forces bring to the table. These include ready deployability and redeployability, and the independence of host-country politics the open sea grants us. In addition, it has proven relatively inexpensive to upgrade preexisting Aegis antiair capabilities, embarked in the Ticonderoga- and Burke-class warships, to provide a TBMD capability in the terminal and midphase flight regimes. Needless to say, this is upsetting to those who believe their own programs constitute a means of coercion or threat to us. I believe this is about all that is wise to say in open session on that topic.