Both the visible government in Bonn and the invisible underwriters of the GUARDIAN PROJECT were willing listeners to reports of advancement. Setbacks, extended timetables, and minor failures were not received as well.
Thus, when Eisenach left the High Command headquarters, after listening to the two marshals and single admiral, he understood his instructions. There would be no advertising of the losses on the Arctic Ice the night before. Such a revelation would generate spirited and vivid debate in the federal parliament, and quite possibly, investigations into the Bremerhaven Petroleum Corporation, the makeup of its board of directors, and the role the military played in economic development.
More undesirable, from the High Command’s point of view, was a public discussion of the tremendous amount of energy production and energy reserves that had been developed over the past three years. Wars were won or lost, based upon the availability of energy. Ships stayed in port and aircraft on the ground when there were no fuels available. Armies, with their insatiable need for ammunition, stores, and support services, became immobile when the fuel tanks of trucks, jeeps, and tanks went dry. Any airing of the rationales for the High Command’s objective of hoarding energy supplies and sources was to be avoided at all costs.
As Eisenach and Oberlin descended the steps of the headquarters building, Oberst Albert Weismann joined them. He had been waiting in the corridors outside the staff rooms, in the event that he might be called upon to explain how his two Tornadoes had been shot down.
When Eisenach saw him, he stopped in the middle of the long, wide flight of marble steps and waited. The street ahead of him bustled with pedestrians and automobiles, most of them good Germans on their separate ways home, to work, or to lunch. Not one of them, he was certain, realized how hard their country was working for them.
“General?” Weismann asked.
“The mood was not playful, Colonel.”
“That is understandable.”
“Steps must be taken.”
“I agree,” Weismann said.
“The pre-sited defense units are to be moved to the platforms,” Eisenach said. “You will arrange with Admiral Schmidt for their transport and use your heavy helicopters to emplace them.”
“At once, General.”
“Then, remember that our public relations with the High Command, the government, and” — Eisenach swept his hand palm up toward the street — “the people are most important, Albert. They all must understand our increased stature and our equivalence with any power in the world. We need to have the Ghost Project operational.”
“I have already taken steps toward that end,” Weismann said, glancing at Oberlin.
Oberlin nodded slightly.
“It would be helpful, too,” the general said, “if I had better news to deliver the next time I enter this building. I want to be able to say that American intruders have been shot down.”
“Or Soviet?”
“Or Soviet. Neither country will, I think, raise public objections, if that should happen. It would only open the doors to scrutiny of their, or at least, the Americans’, actions in destroying our aircraft.”
Oberlin and Weismann both nodded their agreement. “Small confrontations go unnoticed in those barren spaces,” Oberlin said.
“That is true,” Eisenach said. “In the particular area of operations, there are very few witnesses to such incidents. We can demonstrate our resolve to either the Americans or the Soviets quietly and simply. Bring me the ears of a pilot, Albert.”
“I will, General.”
“Goddamn it, McKenna! Dimatta could have boosted his ass out of there. He didn’t have to shoot back, for Christ’s sake! I know his damned profile. He’s quick on the trigger.”
“All of that is probably true, General Brackman. But to keep the facts straight, Frank didn’t make the decision. He asked permission, and I gave it. Don’t blame Frank, and don’t blame it on the heat of battle.”
McKenna was tucked into his office cubicle, where he had slept the balance of the night. He had been thinking about the joys of a turnaround flight to, even, Borneo, where he could get a hot shower when Brackman had called. The general had just read the debriefing report.
“You discuss that decision with Overton?”
“No. Jim’s responsible for Themis. The squadron is my baby. I’ll take the heat.”
“Give me a rationale,” Brackman said. “One that will pass muster when I send it to Washington.”
“Dimatta was fired upon.”
“Come on, Kevin! You’re talking to me, remember?”
“All right, Marv. Arrogance.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The whole setup aches with an overtone of arrogance. I don’t know what’s going on in the civilian government, but the old guard military acts as if the last forty years haven’t meant a damned thing. The buildup of arms and armies is taking place blatantly, as if the world isn’t watching. The commanders tromp over anything in their path. The Greenland Sea wells defy any common sense in regard to the environment. Punch a missile into the sea near an old wooden boat? No big goddamned deal. Frank didn’t hear, and I didn’t hear, either, any warning from the Tornado pilot, Marv. He came in shooting, as if he owned the Arctic. I wanted him, and his bosses, to know that he doesn’t own it.”
Brackman pondered for a while. “Okay, Kevin. I buy it. Sending the message, I mean. I don’t know whether or not Harvey Mays and Hannibal Cross will buy it.”
“You know what makes it a credible message, Marv?”
“I have an idea.”
“It’s almost four o’clock in Bonn. Have the White House or the State Department received any irate ambassadors?”
“No. And we didn’t get any as a result of the attack on the well.”
“How much do you want to bet that Bonn doesn’t even know what’s taken place, or is taking place?” McKenna asked. “Anybody want to pin the chancellor down?”
“No bets. You suggesting we inform Bonn that their military is out of hand?”
“I’m not suggesting a damned thing. The policy people in the White House, at Foggy Bottom, and on the Hill are going to screw it all up, anyway. And somehow, I don’t think the German chancellor would take kindly to interference in his administration, no matter the reasons or the facts.”
“All good points, Kevin. Okay, put that aside for now. What did you get me?”
“Pearson is still wrapping up her analysis, but from what I saw, we’re not going to find many weak points in the transmission lines. The only exposed points are where the pipes — they look like pipelines — come out of the sea on the mainland. That may be subterfuge. Dummy pipelines. There are three of them at each of the pumping stations. From the side-view pictures, each of the pumping stations is built on top of a cliff, some one hundred yards back from the shoreline. My gut feeling, Marv, is that the pumping stations are also dummies. I think that each platform has its own turbine generators, and the electric output goes right into undersea cables, is collected at one or two central points, perhaps also on the sea bottom, and then transferred to the mainland, coming ashore underground. I believe that the distribution centers are located in hardened, subterranean excavations under the pumping stations. Further distribution within the country is also below ground.”
“Shit. No place where we could cut the flow of electrical energy?”
“Not if you go by my guts,” McKenna said.
“I keep asking this. What’s next?”
“Let me talk to Amy and Jim and get back to you.”