by Ted Halstead
That shared experience also gave them a certainty many couples never achieved. That no matter what, they could count on each other.
Vasilyev, Neda, and Kharlov all rose from the table and converged on Grishkov, whose scowl quickly gave way to a reluctant smile.
"It's so good to see you!" Neda exclaimed. "It's been months! How is your leg?"
Broken in two places, Grishkov's right leg had nearly been declared beyond salvage. The last time FSB Director Smyslov had seen them, he had pointedly told Grishkov that as a result, he would never again serve overseas with the FSB.
"I would not wish the months of physical therapy I went through on my worst enemy. But, thanks to a very competent team of therapists, I am fully recovered. In fact, I have been cleared for overseas deployment," Grishkov said.
Though Grishkov didn't know it, he had Director Smyslov to thank for his therapists' quality. He had called in a favor from the President to have therapists typically dedicated to Russia's Olympic team used for Grishkov's treatment, as well as their equipment.
"So, am I right to guess that the scowl on your face when the door opened was from Arisha's reaction to that news?" Vasilyev asked.
Grishkov's wife Arisha had been delighted by Smyslov's decision to retire Grishkov from FSB service after his mission in Ukraine and send him to relative safety as a Captain in the Moscow police force. Captains were well known to spend most of their time at a desk.
"Yes," Grishkov, and the scowl returned. "It took a visit to my home by the Director to return some semblance of peace."
All three of them stared at Grishkov in astonishment. "Smyslov came to your apartment?" Vasilyev finally managed.
Grishkov nodded glumly. "His security detail locked down the building's elevators and closed the stairs. Our neighbors probably won't talk to us for a month."
Vasilyev shook his head. "But here you are, so the Director must have been persuasive."
"Well, yes," Grishkov said with a shrug. "He promised that this mission would be far safer than our previous ones: no nuclear bombs, no terrorists, no criminals. And we won't be going to a country at war like Afghanistan. Though even that wasn't enough."
"Remarkable," Vasilyev said with a laugh. "And what convinced her?"
Grishkov gave a small smile in reply. "Arisha promised that I would come home to an empty apartment if the Director didn't tell her where I was going. At first, I thought that would get me a pass for this mission. Finally, though, he told her."
Vasilyev pointed at the folders on the table. "I just finished reading through our briefing, and our destination wasn't included. So, where are we going?"
"America," Grishkov said.
Simultaneously, the door opened behind Grishkov, and the burly, heavily bearded form of FSB Director Smyslov entered.
"So, you have spoiled my little surprise," Smyslov said, wrapping his arms around Grishkov in his trademark bear hug.
Finally releasing Grishkov, Smyslov waved them all to their seats.
"Grishkov had a chance to read these briefing papers when I visited him last night. Truly, Arisha reminded me that women have always had an equal role in making Russia a great country," Smyslov said.
"So, no nuclear weapon this time?" Vasilyev asked.
Smyslov shook his head. "No. But, your training over the past fourteen months wasn't wasted," he said, pointing at Kharlov and Neda.
Kharlov nodded. "So, we will be disabling a ballistic missile. Just not one with a nuclear warhead."
"Correct," Smyslov said. "You were training previously on methods to prevent the launch of an SS-18 ballistic missile. The rocket you will be disabling now will be even larger, but our experts believe one of those methods should still be effective."
Neda frowned. "But they don't happen to know which one?"
Smyslov shook his head. "The rocket is brand new, and so the information we have been able to obtain is limited. Frankly, even what we have is probably out of date. Eli Wade has been pushing his technicians very hard to improve the rocket's performance."
Neda tapped the file folder in front of her. "And this will be the first launch of his newest rocket, with a payload of over one hundred tons."
"Correct," said Smyslov.
Now it was Vasilyev's turn to tap his file folder.
"All that's here. But not a word about what I'll be doing. Am I right to guess that Anatoly will accompany me?" Vasilyev asked, gesturing towards Grishkov.
"Yes, but let me back up a moment. You are all being sent on a contingency basis. It is possible none of you will have to do anything and will simply be ordered home," Smyslov said.
Vasilyev nodded. "So, we don't need to know what would have to go right for us to enjoy an American vacation. But it won't take long before orders come one way or the other."
Smyslov nodded.
"And you're not optimistic," Vasilyev said flatly.
"No," Smyslov said.
"So…" Vasilyev prompted.
Smyslov sighed. "There are several reasons why I was forced to hold our meeting in this wretched secure conference room, rather than my office. Where I could have given you a sendoff meal worthy of the importance of your mission. Though my office is secure against all known eavesdropping methods, this room is supposed to be proof against even the unknown. And it was designed by my predecessor."
The rest of those at the table all looked at each other. They knew Smyslov's predecessor was now Russia's President.
"He is the one who established the rule that this room must be used to discuss assassinations," Smyslov added.
"Of who?" Vasilyev asked.
"I was ordered not to tell you, and when I walked in this room, I intended to obey that order. Now, though, I realize that would mean sending you all to a critical mission without understanding its objectives. Or having the opportunity to ask intelligent questions. Neither is acceptable," Smyslov said slowly and drew a deep breath.
"So, here are the details. The Chinese have asked for our help in acting against Eli Wade's satellite Internet program. They consider it a threat to national security. Our President has agreed. The Chinese are also trying to pressure Wade through the American government, but think success is unlikely," Smyslov said.
Vasilyev nodded. "Up to now, Wade has been launching satellites sixty or so at a time. This new model of his Spaceship would make that many hundreds at a time, so it must be prevented."
"Correct," Smyslov said. "The hope is that Wade would stop launches for some time while the cause of the Spaceship's failure was investigated."
Vasilyev shook his head. "But this Wade didn't get where he is now by being stupid. Surely, he would suspect a connection between Chinese objections to his satellite Internet service and the failure of his rocket that would launch many more. And couldn't he just continue using his old rockets?"
Smyslov shrugged. "Maybe. However, the Chinese turned to us because a check by the Americans of China's agents will show that none were active in Florida. And the American government is likely to insist on an investigation before any more of Wade's rockets are launched, old or new. Especially if the launch failure is…catastrophic."
Vasilyev nodded. "Very well, let's suppose the Florida operation goes perfectly. How long before Wade starts launching satellites from California? He already has an operational base there, doesn't he?"
Smyslov nodded. "You're right. It's only a question of time, and probably not much time at that. We would then have to move on to more direct measures. That's where you and Grishkov come in."
Vasilyev looked at Smyslov in disbelief. "Assassinate Wade? But surely the American reaction would be…" His voice trailed off.
"Yes, severe," Smyslov said irritably. "But only if you're caught. Obviously, we'll have to make sure the Americans have no idea who to blame."
Kharlov had been listening attentively but had said nothing. Now, though, he could no longer restrain himself.
"I am the new man here, so I apologize for asking a questio
n that may seem obvious to the rest of you. Why are we doing this? Surely not just because the Chinese asked?"
Everyone else looked at Smyslov, who sighed. "No, you're right. There's more to it. The Chinese have promised to buy all our exports of oil and gas. More, they have agreed to make us their sole supplier, which would support our opening new production fields in Siberia."
Vasilyev nodded. "With the election coming up, I can see why our President would like to see such a deal go through."
Smyslov shook his head. "I would have resigned before approving this operation if I thought the President's political fortunes were all that was at stake. None of you know how serious our economic problems are, and that's very much by design. But if we don't make this deal with the Chinese work, we'll run through our foreign exchange reserves before the end of this year."
Neda slowly asked, "That sounds bad, but what does it mean?"
"An economic depression worse than the one that followed the collapse of the Soviet Union. Followed by revolution, civil war…" Smyslov's voice trailed off.
"We should never have let ourselves become so dependent on petrochemicals to support our economy," Vasilyev said.
"Agreed," Smyslov said. "But here we are. We can only deal with the world as it is, not as we wish it could be. For us, that means making the best of a bad set of options."
Then Smyslov looked at his watch.
"And for all of you, it means you must be on your way to the airport." Rising, Smyslov hugged them in turn, wishing each of them good luck as they left the conference room.
They were all able to fit in the elevator, but thanks to Kharlov's bulk, only just.
Kharlov looked at Grishkov and said in a low voice, "I understand you're the only one of us who has been to America before. What do you think of our chances?"
Grishkov grunted and replied, "I won't tempt fate by even trying to guess."
Chapter Four
Zhongnanhai Compound
Beijing, China
President Lin Wang Yong looked up from the folder on his desk as an aide ushered in General Yang Mingren, the Air Force Commander. As was proper, General Yang stood at attention before President Lin, whose titles included Chairman of the Central Military Commission. Or what the Americans would call the Commander in Chief.
Yang was taller than the Chinese male average, at one hundred seventy centimeters, or about five and a half feet. Lin was only a few centimeters shorter, which made his height still slightly above the Chinese average.
An objective observer would have said Lin's looks were just average, while Yang looked as handsome as everyone thought a fighter pilot should. Party officials were expected to marry and have the single child that up until recently had been government policy. Lin had done just that.
Not Yang.
A string of girlfriends left behind when Yang transferred from one base to another testified to his ability to convince one woman after another that he was finally ready to settle down.
He wasn't.
Yang's ambition was only part of the reason he had never married. Yes, a wife and, even worse, a child would have been distractions his career couldn't afford.
But even more fundamentally, Yang cared about no one but himself.
This was probably all that Yang and Lin truly had in common.
"Please, have a seat, General," Lin said, after judging that fifteen seconds was long enough to leave him standing.
It never hurt to remind the military that in China, the Communist Party was in charge.
"Thank you, Mr. President," Yang said impassively as he sat and adjusted his wire-frame glasses. As he approached late middle age, he now needed them.
Well, Lin thought, Yang's file did say the General's days of flying fighter jets were well behind him. But that's not what he needed him for today.
"I'm impressed with the progress you've made so far," Lin said, gesturing at the folder on his desk.
Yang just nodded. Good, Lin thought. He was smart enough to know there was a "but" coming.
"However, it appears that so far, you have done no testing of this new antisatellite laser weapon outside of the laboratory. Or have I missed something?" Lin asked.
"You have not, sir. I had just completed a draft of a request to the National Space Administration for an orbital test when Minister Song's office advised me of your interest. I have held the request in case you wish the test to…change its focus," Yang replied.
Lin nodded. "Perhaps soon. Would it be possible to reserve a spot on an upcoming launch on a contingency basis?"
"With your support, we could pick any available date. I recommend we select the next launch, due a week from now. Our original intent was to test our new laser weapon against a small satellite we put in orbit for that purpose last year. It has an electronic and communications package designed to send us telemetry on the laser's effectiveness up to the point that transmission will cease if the weapon is successful. If you decide to target the American satellites instead, that change will be easy to make," Yang said.
"Good. From your briefing papers, it appears this weapon's point is to allow the destruction of satellites while avoiding responsibility for doing so. How confident are you that it will be successful?" Lin asked.
Yang blinked, and for a moment, said nothing. Good, Lin thought. Only a fool would answer such a question without careful consideration.
"The weapon is coated in materials that should make its observation from the ground extremely difficult, even by the most powerful telescopes. The laser is designed to leave its target physically intact. For a communications satellite, the laser should be able to achieve the goal of rendering it inoperable by heating its interior components. We would stop firing soon after the target ceases transmitting," Yang replied.
"Yes, I read here you are hoping that even physical examination of the target satellite might not reveal the cause of failure," Lin said, tapping the file folder on his desk.
Yang nodded. "The Americans have retrieved satellites from orbit before. Naturally, there is a danger that once the target's interior cools, it will again be able to function. So, we must balance the goal of target destruction with our need to avoid responsibility for that act."
Then Yang hesitated, and Lin could see he was having trouble with what he would say next.
Long experience at this level of Chinese government told Lin that could mean only one thing.
Bad news.
"Yes?" Lin asked quietly.
"Mr. President, I must admit that a SpaceLink satellite would not have been our choice for an initial test of this laser weapon. Its 'sun visor' presents a unique challenge," Yang said.
Lin frowned and repeated, "Sun visor?"
"Yes, sir. When SpaceLink first deployed its satellites, there was an immediate outcry from astronomers. They complained that the reflected light from the satellites was too bright and interfered with their observations. Several years ago, SpaceLink included what they call a 'sun visor' on each satellite," Yang said.
"And you believe it will interfere with our weapon's performance," Lin said flatly.
"Yes, sir, but we still think a successful attack is possible. The visor is oriented to prevent sunlight from reflecting off the satellite and back to earth. At a minimum, we will probably have to use more power than we would have needed otherwise. We may also be forced to come a bit closer to the target. It may also be necessary to maneuver the weapon to strike a gap in the visor's coverage. And that raises another issue," Yang said.
Lin sighed. "What is that, General?"
"The SpaceLink satellites have a built-in capability to avoid other satellites that come too close. That capability activates automatically. We won't know if we can reach an effective firing range without triggering this SpaceLink auto-avoidance until we try it. However, I remain confident that despite these issues, we will ultimately be successful," Yang said.
Lin shook his head. "But even if you can destroy a single satellite, all you have sa
id makes it seem unlikely you will reach your goal of destroying dozens with a single weapon."
Yang nodded. "Certainly not as quickly as projected in the briefing papers you have before you, which were for attacks on ordinary communications satellites. The number we need to target, though, should be manageable. I understand we will only be striking ones broadcasting a signal that can be used within China."
"Correct," Lin said.
Yang smiled. "Excellent. Though there are thousands of SpaceLink satellites in orbit, only a few dozen provide coverage that can be used within our country."
Then Yang's smile disappeared. "I regret, though, that I must advise you of a complication that has arisen just hours before our meeting."
Lin frowned. "And what is that, General?"
"The American military has announced that SpaceLink has been awarded a new contract to support their communications. There were few details, but we think we know the broad outline. In short, SpaceLink will provide backup to existing American military communications capabilities," Yang said.
Lin nodded slowly. "I read in the briefing papers that the American military signed a contract with SpaceLink several years ago providing them funds to evaluate their technology."
"Correct, Mr. President," Yang said. Though he did his best to conceal it, Lin could see that Yang was surprised both that he had read that detail and had been quick to make the connection.
Lin had noticed that other high-ranking officers besides Yang appeared to be surprised whenever their civilian counterparts proved competent.
That either meant too many high Party officials were incompetent or that the military was acquiring an exaggerated opinion of their abilities.
Or maybe both.
Neither would be good. Both together could spell real trouble.
These thoughts passed through Lin's mind in a flash.
Aloud, Lin added, "It appears the American military's evaluation is now complete."