“What do we know?” the president asked, getting right to business.
CIA Director Margo Allende projected her pad computer to the room’s large displays, the projection showing the earth from high above the north pole. “The red line shows the path of the Omega II as it left its base near Murmansk in the Kola Peninsula. The red ‘X’ not far from the coast, in open water, is where the deep-diver sub docked with the Omega when both were submerged. The USS New Jersey reported that the docking was conducted with no problems.”
Pacino felt a lurch in his stomach whenever Anthony’s submarine was mentioned.
“First time,” Office of Naval Intelligence Rear Admiral Frieda Sutton said. “They’ve never been able to do that successfully before. Not with the Omega submerged. They seem to have fixed their artificial intelligence’s ability to hover the submarine.”
“From there,” Allende continued, “the Omega proceeded northward and exited the Barents Sea and entered the Arctic Ocean. She passed under complete ice coverage two hours ago, as reported by the New Jersey. It was New Jersey’s final transmission before going into radio silence.”
“And,” Carlucci said, squinting at the display, “what do we think this thing, this Omega, is doing?”
“Her course would seem to take her just slightly wide of the North Pole on the Russian side,” Sutton said. “Director Allende, could you plot the extrapolation of her course?”
“If it keeps going like this, Mr. President,” Allende said, “its course would bring it to the Bering Strait and into the Pacific.”
There was silence in the room for a long moment.
“Now, why the hell would it do that?” Carlucci asked.
“All our intelligence intercepts mentioned carrying the Poseidon weapons to U.S. east coast ports,” NSA Director Foster Nickerson said. “So heading to the Pacific is off-script.”
“Maybe Vostov is calling an audible,” Pacino said. “Maybe he’s decided to plant them off our west coast ports.”
“Maybe,” Allende said. “But who knows what he’s thinking at this point? He’s survived two assassination attempts in the last month. Those experiences may be warping his judgement.”
“Two?” Pacino asked. “I only heard about his office bomb.”
“Presidential helicopter was sabotaged,” DIA Chief General Rogers said. “Ball bearings were put into the gearbox. But the mechanism to spit them into the works was supposed to wait till the chopper was at a thousand meters. Something went wrong and instead the bearings were injected at an altitude of one meter. Chopper landed safely. The mechanics involved all disappeared. Probably by the FSB.”
“Or they were disappeared by whoever led the conspiracy,” Allende said. “And as far as the office explosion, we lost our listening devices in Vostov’s office. There was no mention of the Pacific Ocean in any of our sound intercepts. Can you confirm that, General Nickerson?”
The NSA director cleared his throat. “That’s correct, Madam Director. As of the day of the explosion, we only heard about the Atlantic coast as a potential drop-off point for the Poseidons.”
“So now what?” Carlucci said. “Do we do what the cancer doctors call ‘watchful waiting’?”
“Sir, if I may?” Pacino said, glancing up and seeing Vice President Karen Chushi entering the room and walking toward her seat at the end opposite the president. She moved slowly with the aid of a cane and was obviously struggling just to make the twenty steps to her seat. She looked so sick he could barely believe that she’d decided to show up for the meeting. Her face was gray and her features were twisted with pain.
“Please, Patch. What’s on your mind?”
“Based on the fact that the Omega is carrying offensive nuclear weapons with the intention of placing them inside American territorial waters, and based on the fact that it has transited under complete ice cover, and on the fact that a thousand bad things can happen to a nuclear sub under the ice with no one knowing what happened,” Pacino said, coughing and clearing his throat, two thoughts slamming into his mind at the same time, that he himself had gone down under the icecap, and that Anthony was there right now. Not a few hundred yards from a killer submarine, an improved version of the one that had defeated Pacino in combat.
“Go on, Admiral.” Carlucci said. Pacino imagined the president knew what he’d say next.
“I respectfully recommend we sink the Omega before it emerges from under the ice.”
15
Vice President Karen Chushi was shouting while struggling to stand up, leaning heavily on her cane.
“Are you out of your goddamned mind? Seriously?” she screamed at Pacino. “You’re going to shoot at a Russian warship during peacetime? Are you aware that’s an act of war? Against a goddamned nuclear superpower?” Chushi had finally gained her feet. She picked up her cane and pointed it at Admiral Pacino. “You’re a goddamned warmonger, Pacino. And you!” Her cane pointed to Carlucci, causing his Secret Service detail to flinch, but he waved them to back off. “This is what happens when you bring in a goddamned warmonger to run national security! And you know, there’s no need to do every goddamned thing this man says!” Her accusatory cane pointed back at Pacino. “Admiral Pacino, how much of your motivation is driven by revenge for that first Omega sub you shot at under the icecap? And lost to? With the loss of your submarine and every soul onboard except you. Yeah, I got access to the goddamned file, Admiral, I know. And how much of your motivation is that your little warmonger son is on that New Jersey submarine? Because, if you strike at the Omega now, and let’s say you get the drop on it, the Omega sinks, little Pacino Junior won’t be in danger anymore, will he? Well, will he?”
Chushi pointed her cane at Allende, who was staring at the vice president with her mouth hanging open in shock. “And you, Madam CIA Director, this is ultimately your goddamned fault! You and your shady organization did this. Oh, look at the expression on your face, so innocent. Yeah, I said it. You nefarious spooks at CIA planted information into the Russian’s intelligence agencies that prompted this whole Poseidon mess, didn’t you? Isn’t it true, Madam Allende, that your double agents, or your electronic so-called ‘pipelines,’ funneled data to the Russians that was patently false, right? You made the goddamned Russians believe that America had mined all their harbors with two megaton nuclear mines, didn’t you? Poor Vostov is called into a meeting and shown a map with little atomic symbols placed in every port, from Murmansk to Rybachiy to Vladivostok to St. Petersburg to goddamned Kaliningrad. How many megatons did you convince the Russians that you’d planted in their territorial waters, Madam Allende? Forty? Fifty? Seventy? And what the hell else was Vostov to do after that provocation, from those lies that you planted, which he obviously believed, but deploy his own nuclear munitions?”
“Madam Vice President, we did no such thing,” Allende said, stammering.
“And I should believe you? You and your people lie for a living. Oh, I know about your disinformation pipelines, Madam CIA Director Allende. You made the Russians believe in the 80s that the Strategic Defense Initiative missile shield worked and was tested out with a perfect record. You sent fake messages back and forth, messages you knew the Russians were intercepting, that since the missile shield worked, that Star Wars was up and running, that it was time for a first nuclear strike against the Russians, isn’t that true? Isn’t it true that your deception of the Russian intelligence agencies forced Gorbachev to strike his hammer-and-sickle flag and lay down his guns, surrendering to an America that you’d led him to believe was ready to nuke his country to dust? Isn’t that true? No, don’t answer, Madam Director, I already know.”