He spent another minute playing with the switches, cutting in circuits and taking them out, trying all the four emergency procedures. Then he said, quietly but definitely, "Captain, there’s a foul up with the hornets. I figure it as damage to the positioning arms. Whatever it is, they’re out."
Goldsmith finished speaking. Brown was considering what that would imply, when Lieutenant Owens said, "Captain, another fighter coming in. Fast, like the other two. Forty miles ahead."
Chapter 13
The Russian Ambassador to the United States, M. Zorubin, had only been accredited in Washington a few months longer than the President had held office. So far he had created a good impression. He was a tall, florid, jovial seeming man, with an excellent command of English which he spoke with a slight British accent — the results of an eight year spell of duty in London.
He was a man of striking personality, and he contrived to put into the simplest statements a warmth and sincerity which convinced the listener that here was a man who meant what he said. As a home-grown, small town politician, he would have been strong on kissing babies and firm man-to-man handshakes. As a diplomat holding one of the most important appointments in the world, he confined his kissing to the fingers of senators’ wives, who found his gallantry and his witty conversation full of charm.
The President liked Zorubin personally, but he did not altogether trust him. Wit and elegance have never distinguished the State Department, where the austere, puritanical tradition seems to continue through the years. The President and the Secretary of State preferred diplomats to be serious, sober men. Also, they were not sure just how much Zorubin counted for among the inner circles at the Kremlin. They suspected he was a person of no importance, who had been posted to Washington simply as a figurehead, to convince the American public that a man so pleasant and so cultured must surely represent a peace loving and reasonable government.
It so happened they were wrong. Zorubin stood close to the hub of power in the Kremlin. He had realised early in his political life that alliances were dangerous, and enmities even more so. He had carefully avoided contracting any alliances or even any close friendships except one. His gay insouciance, and his apparent lack of interest in internal politics, had ensured he made no enemies.
Thus he was able to survive the murderous intrigues of Stalin’s early years, the massive purges that three times convulsed Russia while Stalin was at the height of his power, and even the bloody, internecine fighting which immediately followed Stalin’s death. Finally, the Marshal had attained supreme power, gathering the reins of government into his pudgy but efficient hands. Zorubin had survived to triumph, for it was with the Marshal he had formed his only close friendship. And, since he had never taken any part in internal politics, had in fact only spent about two years of the previous twenty in Russia, it was a friendship which would last. The Marshal had no cause whatever to fear him, and so he was safe. As a token of that friendship he had been given the Washington appointment, and his dispatches were highly valued.
The valuation placed on his reports was not entirely due to friendship. Beneath Zorubin’s charm and elegance was hidden a first class brain, icy cold, detached, and when necessary, ruthless. Since his arrival in Washington his evaluations and predictions of United States Policy had proved uncannily accurate. The Marshal gave great weight to his judgments.
Now, in the fifteen minutes he had been in the War Room, Zorubin was as near frightened as he had been for years. The President had explained fully what had happened. He had convinced Zorubin of his good faith, that he was making every effort to recall the bombers. The difficulty was, of course, that the bombers apparently could not be recalled. And Zoruhin was worried. There were certain things he knew, certain actions which might be taken. Later, if it became necessary to prod the President into some unpleasant action, he might find it necessary to inform him of them. For the moment, however, the President seemed to be doing all he could. Zorubin decided to wait a while.
The President, the Secretary of State, and the Russian Ambassador, were closeted in a small cube-shaped room within the War Room itself. Army Signals had provided two microphones and two speakers. These were linked to a radio net flung across an ocean and a continent to the Kremlin. The Joint Chiefs, with General Franklin in attendance as commander of SAC, sat on the opposite side of the table.
Zorubin had arrived just as the President spoke to the Marshal for the first time. The exchanges had been polite, but formal. Zorubin, listening keenly, had been unable to detect any particular emotion in the Marshal’s voice.
But he knew his friend too well to be deceived by that.
He had acted as interpreter for the President. At his suggestion the American Ambassador in Moscow had been summoned to the Kremlin to interpret for the Marshal. It had been generally agreed that the matters under discussion were too important for any but the highest placed to hear them.
The President had explained briefly what had happened He outlined the measures he had taken, and was taking, to bring the bombers back. He stressed that the United States did not by any means seek a war with Soviet Russia, and to show his good faith he had invited the Soviet Ambassador to the Pentagon so that he could witness exactly what efforts were being made to stop the attack.
"You say only thirty-two of your bombers are involved. Where are the rest of them?" the Marshal asked.
"I have grounded them," the President replied quickly. He thought there was no possibility that any of the SAC wings which were airborne could be seen on Russia radar.
"My staff report at least another two hundred in the air," the Marshal snapped.
Zorubin smiled briefly. The Americans had no monopoly of early warning systems. Keppler grinned at Steele, whose expression remained imperturbable. "They are in the air, yes," the President said. "But they are on their way back. They are not heading towards Russia."
"Well, we will see." The reply was grudging.
"Marshal, I have already conveyed my sincere regrets that this thing has happened. May I suggest we now consider only how we can best ensure that the bombers do not reach their targets. We will continue to do everything we can to recall them by radio. But I have also arranged for my staff to prepare a complete list of the bombers’ targets and approach routes, heights, and speeds. They will pass these on to your staff, together with details of the defensive weapons carried by the planes." The President paused, and his voice faltered slightly. It is never a pleasant thing to be forced to sacrifice your own troops. "You will thus be able to make dispositions to intercept and destroy the bombers before they reach their targets. We feel we cannot ask you to wait until we know whether we can recall the bombers by radio, so we accept the need for you to destroy the bombers as quickly as is possible. The information we will give you should help you to do this."
"We will see." Again the grudging reply. "How soon can you pass the information?"
"Immediately you are ready for it."
"We are ready now. My staff tell me they are in contact with yours. Is there anything more?"
"Yes," the President said slowly. "There is. We have admitted we were at fault. But I think we have shown we are prepared to do everything in our power to put right that fault. Now I must ask for proof of good faith on your part. I would consider that ordering your long range bombers to remain on the ground would be sufficient proof."
Zorubin looked momentarily startled. It seemed he was about to protest the President’s request. But the tone in which the words had been spoken precluded any argument. Zorubin shrugged, and waited for the reply. When it came, he was surprised. There was none of the indignation he had expected. Instead, the Marshal said merely, "We will see. Your Ambassador has now arrived. I am having him brought in with me." And there, for the moment, the matter rested.