The Paris Option c-3

by Ludlum, Robert

  Thérèse Chambord stared up as he walked into the room. Her right hand searched blindly behind until she grabbed the end of the iron bed for support. She, too, was shocked. But the tall man was not. Eagerness filled his face, and he rushed to Thérèse. The great French scientist Dr. Emile Chambord pulled his daughter to her feet and enfolded her in his arms.

  PART TWO

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aboard the Aircraft Carrier Charles de Gaulle

  The Mediterranean Sea

  Two hundred miles south-southwest of Toulon, France, the nuclear-powered Charles de Gaulle cruised silently through the night, a great beast of the sea, sleek, graceful, and lethal. Only its running lights were on, and its matching pair of PWR Type K15 nuclear-pressure water reactors propelled the carrier at a steady twenty-seven knots, leaving behind an iridescent wake as straight as a razor cut.

  The Charles de Gaulle was the newest and largest addition to the navies of Western Europe, and anyone observing, who knew the telltale signs, would realize something significant was happening aboard that Wednesday night. For in the air above, ten Rafale M fighter jets and three E-2C Hawkeye early-warning aircraft were aloft, creating an aerial screen, while the crewmen on duty at the Aster 15 surface-to-air missiles and the eight Giat 20F2 20mm guns were on full alert.

  Below decks in a small, secure conference room, five military men, wearing the uniforms of general officers in the armies of the key European Union nations, were listening with varying degrees of concern to their host, who was not only a French general but also Deputy Supreme Allied Commander in Europe for NATO Le Comte Roland la Porte. Hulking and regal, the general stood with his pointer poised before a large map of Europe as he surveyed his fellow generals with his unblinking pale blue eyes.

  "This, gentlemen," he said, tapping the chart with his pointer, "shows all the new multinational consortiums that have arisen across Europe to manufacture advanced military weapons and systems."

  To his annoyance, he was addressing his guests in English, an insult to French, the historic language of diplomats, the mother tongue of Western civilization. But the truth was, more than half of the EU's military leaders did not speak French well enough to understand him.

  So in English, but definitely with a French accent, the massive general continued: "BAE Systems in the UK. EADS in France, Germany, and Spain. Finmeccanica in Italy. Thaes in France and the UK. Astrium in Sweden, which, as you know, is a coalition of both BAE and EADS. European Military Aviation in the UK and Italy. So far, these corporations have further combined with others, as well as among themselves, to produce the Eurofighter aircraft, the NH-90 military transport helicopter, the Tiger combat helicopter, the Stormshadow cruise missile, and the Meteor air-to-air missile. Under discussions that we hope will come to fruition are the Galileo global-positioning system and the Sostar airborne ground-surveillance system."

  La Porte slapped the pointer against his palm for emphasis. "I think you will agree that it is an impressive list of cooperation and accomplishment. Add to it the recent political support for pooling all of our research and development funds to create a European program to match Washington's, and I think we can all see the military handwriting on the wall."

  There was silence as the generals glanced warily among themselves. Finally, Lieutenant General Sir Arnold Moore, in his dry, clipped, very British voice, asked, "Aside from increasing European trade at the expense of the United States, what's your point, Roland?" General Moore had cobwebbed cheeks, a high forehead, and the same long, narrow aquiline nose that reminded those who knew English history of the first Lancaster king, Henry IV.

  The French general turned his gaze upon the British general approvingly. He liked that question and had hoped someone would ask. "Quite simply, Sir Arnold, I believe we are swiftly approaching the time when we can and must have a fully combined European military, so strong that it will no longer need the Americans. Any Americans at all. Completely independent from them. We are ready to resume our rightful leadership role."

  As the Englishman registered doubt about what he was hearing, General Valentin Gonzalez of Spain narrowed his eyes, cautious. He was a dapper, swarthy man with a jaunty tilt to his general's cap. "You mean an army beyond the sixty thousand combined troops that we now have under the command of the Rapid Reaction Force, General La Porte? After all, the EU controls it. Don't we already have basically what you're proposing?"

  "Non!" La Porte said bluntly. "It's not enough. The Rapid Reaction Force is intended only for deployment on humanitarian, rescue, and peacekeeping missions, and even then it still requires U.S. weapons, support systems, and communications systems so it can operate. Besides, it's too damn small to handle any major problems. What I'm arguing for here is the full integration of the militaries of all our member nations, the entire two million soldiers, so that we have all the capabilities of a self-sufficient army, navy, and air force."

  "But to what purpose, Roland?" Sir Arnold wanted to know. He crossed his arms and frowned. "Why? Aren't we all NATO allies anyway, working for a peaceful world? Competing in many ways, yes, but with our military enemies in common?"

  "Our interests are not always the same as those of the United States." La Porte stepped closer to the group, his enormous girth momentarily intimidating. "In fact, in my opinion, they are far from the same now, as I have been trying to convince the EU for some years. Europe was, and is, too great to be a mere satellite of the United States."

  Sir Arnold repressed a chuckle. "Remind your own country of that, Roland. After all, this grand aircraft carrier, this futuristic French warship that's carrying us, has made-in-the-USA steam catapults and arresting cables, since nothing else is available. And the Hawkeye surveillance and early-warning planes that you've got up there circling are also made in the United States. Rather critical points, wouldn't you say?"

  Italian General Ruggiero Inzaghi had been listening carefully. He had large dark eyes, as hard as flint, and a wide mouth that was habitually set in a straight, no-nonsense line. He had been studying the big Frenchman, but now he turned to the Englishman. "I think General La Porte has a point. The Americans often brush off our immediate and long-range needs, especially when they don't easily coincide with what they think they want."

  The Spaniard, General Valentin Gonzalez, wagged a finger at the Italian. "Your own problem in Albania some years ago wouldn't be on your mind, would it, Ruggie? As I recall, it wasn't just the United States that had no interest in such a minor matter. Neither did the rest of Europe."

  General Inzaghi retorted, "With a fully integrated European army, we'd back each other with all our concerns."

  "As do each of the American states, which once were so contentious that they fought a long, savage civil war among themselves," La Porte pointed out. "They still disagree, but they're all one on the larger issues. Consider, gentlemen, that we Europeans have an economy one-third larger than that of the United States, and most of our citizens enjoy levels of medical, educational, and social benefits that are superior, too. There are more of us, and we're better off. Yet we still can't engage in a crucial military operation alone. That was made painfully clear by our inability to deal with the crises in the Balkans. Once more, we had to go to Washington with our hats in our hands. It's too humiliating. Are we to remain stepchildren forever to a nation that owes its very existence to us?"

  The only general in the conference room who still had taken no part in the discussion, preferring, it seemed, to watch and listen, was Bundeswehr General Otto Bittrich. As usual, the expression on his rawboned face was thoughtful. His blond hair was nearly white now, but his ruddy complexion seemed decades younger than his fifty-two years. He cleared his throat, his Prussian expression severe.

  "The Kosovo campaign occurred in an area that's cost Europe millions of dead over the centuries," he said with a sweep of his gaze to make certain that he had their undivided attention, "a tumultuous region, dangerous to all our interests. The Balkans are, after all, our pow
der keg. Everyone knows this. Yet to do what was necessary to control the fighting in Kosovo and stabilize Europe again, it was Washington that had to provide eighty-five percent of the equipment and systems." The German general's voice rose with indignation. "Yes, our member nations have some two million soldiers, fully operational air forces, and excellent navies, all well equipped to fight but what good are they? They stay home and inspect the space between their toes. Useless! We could go back into the past and fight World War Two again, Ja. We could even destroy cities with dumb bombs now. But without the Americans, as General La Porte has correctly said, we can't transport troops and materiel to a modern war, much less fight it. We have no operational planning capability. No command structures. Technically, electronically, logistically, and strategically, we're mastodons. I am, in truth, embarrassed by this. Aren't you, too?"

  But the Britisher, Sir Arnold, held his ground, asking lightly, "Could we all really get along in a unified European army? Could we actually plan operations together, allow multinational communications? Face it, my friends, it isn't only the Americans who have interests different from ours. We, too, disagree, especially politically. And that's where the approval of such an independent military force would have to come from."

  General Inzaghi sat up straighter, annoyed. "About getting along, Sir Arnold," he retorted, "our politicians may have difficulty, but I assure you that our soldiers don't. The Rapid Reaction Force is already stationed outside Mostar in Bosniathe Salamander Division, seven thousand men strong, in Italian, French, German, and Spanish battle groups. General La Porte's own countryman General Robert Meilleis in charge."

  "And the Eurocorp," the Spaniard Gonzalez pointed out. "Don't forget them. Fifty thousand Spanish, German, Belgian, and French troops."

  "At the moment, under Bundeswehr command," General Bittrich added with satisfaction.

  "Yes," Inzaghi said, nodding. "The multinational Italian, Spanish, French, and Portuguese troops under a single command to protect our Mediterranean coastline."

  The missing nation in all these multi-European military organizations became glaringly clear as each was enumerated. There was a heavy silence, in which no one mentioned that when Britain took part in a joint operation, it was invariably only with the Americans, where they were the second-largest contingent and therefore at least second in command.

  Sir Arnold only smiled. A political as well as a military man, he continued to speak lightly: "And are those combined units how all of you envision the structure of this Pan-European army? Bits and pieces stuck together with schoolboy's paste? I'd hardly call them unified."

  La Porte hesitated, then said carefully, "The exact structure of any European combined military would have to be worked out, of course. I envision more than one possibility, Arnold. Naturally, we'd want Britain's full input and"

  Otto Bittrich broke in. "For myself, I see a centrally organized and highly integrated force where the influence of individual states is blurred if not nonexistent. In short, a truly independent European army under a rotating joint command, answerable to no individual nation, but to the EU Parliament alone. That way, political control is assured, where all nations have members, and majority rules. Anything less would be a eunuch."

  But General Gonzalez looked troubled. He complained in a Spanish accent, "You're talking of more than an army, General Bittrich. You're imagining a United Europe, which to some of us is very, very different from a European Union."

  "A United Europe will almost certainly result from a true European military, I should say," the British general remarked pointedly.

  Bittrich and La Porte both brushed that aside, and Bittrich said angrily, "That's not at all what I said, General Moore. I speak militarily, not politically. As a trading bloc and a geographical entity, Europe has common interests that are of little importance to the United States. In fact, many times our interests are opposed to the United States. The EU shares everything from a currency to regulations on hunting migratory birds. Surely it's time to spread that umbrella. We should not depend on the bloody American military any longer!"

  "For myself," La Porte put in with a gruff laugh, "and I believe you will all admit that no one is more protective of his national identity and importance than is a Frenchman, especially one like myself I believe a true United Europe must come. Perhaps a thousand years from now, but it's inevitable. Still, I doubt a united military will force it to happen any sooner."

  "Well," the Briton snapped, all lightness abruptly gone, "my own nation's views on the matter are clear. No totally integrated European army. No European cap badges. No European flag. None. Any British contribution to the Rapid Reaction Force, or a self-contained army, must remain firmly under British control, deployed at the bidding of the British prime minister." Sir Arnold took an angry breath and asked, "And exactly where would the money come from for the transport planes such a 'no U.S. involvement' military would need? Also for the cargo ships and aircraft, the communications systems, the laser-guided munitions, the electronic jamming units, the military planning system, the fully modernized command structure? Certainly not from Britain!"

  La Porte said confidently, "The money will be there, Sir Arnold, when the need becomes so clear that even the politicians can evade the future no longer. When they understand that the fate of Europe is at stake."

  Sir Arnold was watching the French general intently. "Do you perhaps envision a time when we'd want to go to war with the United States?"

  A hush spread around the room, while La Porte paced, his face in a sudden scowl, his ponderous body impressive for its agility. "We already are at war with the Americans, in every aspect of life and business except militarily. But militarily, we cannot be. We are too weak, too dependent on all their systems, hardware, and even the most modern weapons. We have soldiers and arms that we can't properly equip, move, or control, without Washington." He stopped pacing to face them, allowing his stern, unblinking eyes to examine each face. "For example, what would happen if there was some extreme crisis with Russia or China, and the American systems upon which we depend were all rendered useless or worse? What if Washington lost control of its own command and control systems? Where would we be then? If, for any reason, the Americans became defenseless, if only for a short time, then we would, too. In fact, we'd be even more defenseless."

  Sir Arnold's eyes suddenly narrowed in his leathery face. "Do you know something the rest of us don't, Roland?"

  Roland la Porte met his gaze. "I know nothing more than you, Sir Arnold, and I'm insulted you'd even raise the question. If anyone would know more, it'd be you. We French do not have a 'special relationship' with the Americans, unlike you English. But yesterday's invasion of the American energy networks could have easily been far worse, which certainly underlines my point."

  General Moore stared at La Porte a full thirty seconds more. Then he seemed to think of something else. He relaxed, smiled, and stood up. "I believe our business here is over. As for the fate and future of Europe, we in Britain consider it tied permanently to that of the United States, whether we like it or not."

  "Ah, yes." La Porte smiled a humorless smile. "The concept of your George Orwell, I believe."

  General Moore, the Englishman, flushed a livid red, locked eyes again with La Porte, then turned on his heel and marched out of the conference room.

  "What was that all about?" General Inzaghi wanted to know, his black marble eyes suspicious.

  Otto Bittrich said grimly, "The English novel 1984. In it, England was Air Strip One for a Pan-American and British Commonwealth entity called Oceania, united happily forever. At the same time, Europe and Russia were joined together and formed Eurasia. What was left over was called Eastasia — China, India, Central Asia, and all the Oriental countries. Personally, I'd say Britain already is America's Air Strip One, and we must proceed without them."

  "Exactly how do we proceed?" Gonzalez asked.

  La Porte had the answer: "We must each convince our nations and EU deleg
ates that a future European military is the only way to protect Europe's identity. And our greatness. In fact, that is our destiny."

  "You are speaking about the principle of such an army, General La Porte, yes?" General Gonzalez said.

  "Of course, Valentin." General La Porte's eyes were dreamy. "I'm an idealist, it's true. But it's a principle we must start to work toward now. If the Americans can't protect their own utility systems, how can they continue to protect ours? We must grow up, be on our own."

  Captain Darius Bonnard stood out of the night wind as the last of the five generals' helicopters General Inzaghi's rose up against the night sky. The salty Mediterranean air was crisp, invigorating, and he breathed deeply as he listened to the loud chop of the blades.

  The big bird flew north, in the direction of the Italian coast. Once it was safely out of range, the Charles de Gaulle altered course, sliding quietly through the sea in a long arc as it headed back to the French coast and Toulon. Still, the Frenchman continued to watch the Italian helicopter as its lights faded, the roar of its rotors dimmed.

  But he was not so much watching as mulling over the meeting of the generals, which had been instructive. He had sat at the back of the room, quiet and unobtrusive, where he had missed nothing. General La Porte's compelling arguments for a European military had pleased him, as had discovering that most of the other generals were already thinking along the same lines. But the general's implication that he knew more about the recent breakdowns in American electronic systems than was common knowledge had worried him.

  Bonnard sensed trouble on the horizon. He pulled meditatively on his lower lip as he thought about the British general, Sir Arnold Moore. The English bulldog was stubborn, obviously an American pawn, and altogether too paranoid. What La Porte had said had alarmed his English sensibilities, and he would soon be reporting possible plots to his prime minister, the War Office, and MI6. Measures would have to be taken, and quickly.