"Then it can't be the Russians," the President blurted.
"Sir?"
"The Russians wouldn't target their own space center, would they?"
"That's a jump we at NRO are not prepared to make," the NRO director said guardedly.
"Why not?"
"Could be a diversionary tactic."
"Explain."
"They hit two of our targets, then hit Baikonur to throw us off the scent."
"But their own space center?" the President asked incredulously.
"Why not? Except for Mir, Russia's space program is all but defunct."
"The cosmonauts up on Mir can't get home if there's no place to launch their Soyez ships from," the Chief Executive argued.
"They still have Krunishev."
"Didn't he die a long time ago?"
"You're thinking of Khrushchev, Mr. President. I was referring to the Krunishev Space Center."
"Oh, right."
"It's possible the Mir cosmonauts are on a suicide mission," the NRO director continued. "If they don't ever return to Earth, they can't tell what they know about the operation."
"I don't buy it," the President snapped.
"We only report what our satellites find, Mr. President."
The President called Harold Smith with the news. Smith listened carefully then said, "My people were at Baikonur when it happened," Smith said.
"And you didn't tell me first! I had to hear it from NRO?"
"I did not want to precipitate a crisis," Smith explained calmly.
"It's already a crisis!"
"Now that you have been officially informed, yes, it is. Your advisers are trying to convince you this is a Russian superweapon."
"It could be."
"Their counterparts in the Kremlin are doubtless telling your Russian counterpart it's a US. superweapon."
"Ridiculous!"
"Both theories are ridiculous. But the two nations are so used to pointing the finger of blame at one another, all it will take for a global face-off to commence is one man giving the launch order."
"My God! Could the Soviets be doing that now?"
"Probably. And they are no longer the Soviets."
"But they're still the Great Bear of the North. And that means I'd better get NORAD up to speed."
Harold Smith's lemony voice was resigned. "You would be derelict in your duty if you did not, Mr. President."
The Chief Executive's naturally hoarse voice turned to gravel. "When I took the oath of office, I thanked my lucky stars that I had become President in the post-Cold War period."
"There are no eras that are not dangerous, Mr. President."
"Keep me abreast. I mean it this time. I have to make a painful call."
"Good luck, Mr. President," said Harold Smith.
WITHIN THE HOUR, America's nuclear arsenal was placed on the highest state of readiness: Defcon One.
This was not lost on the Kremlin, who then ordered their Strategic Rocket Force to go to the next state of readiness. High Red.
When informed that there was no higher or redder state of readiness above the one in which they had already been placed, the president of Russia belched and said, "I will get back to you on this quandary ...."
And the planet Earth spun on while, orbiting it, a closed ball of stealth-colored material waited for the next signal from its unknown master.
Chapter 33
When they landed at Sheremetevo II Airport in Moscow, Remo Williams told Colonel Radomir Rushenko, "Have this thing refueled and ready."
"Ready for what?"
"The flight back to the States."
"You are going back to the States? This is impossible. It will not be permitted."
"You're our insurance that it will be," warned Remo, leaving his seat.
The Master of Sinanju accompanied Colonel Rushenko to make the arrangements while Remo fed kopecks into an airport pay phone. After a half hour of trying, he failed to get through to America.
Returning to the aircraft, he informed Chiun of this unhappy fact.
"We will call from a city possessing a telephone that works," Chiun said, eyeing Colonel Rushenko unhappily.
"We should have never become friends," Rushenko lamented. "When we were enemies, we had motivation. Our phones worked. Our armies were feared and our space program was the envy of the entire world."
"The Communist world," said Remo.
"The entire world."
"Who went to the moon and who didn't?" countered Remo.
"The moon is only a rock. We had our eyes upon Mars."
"Why Mars?"
"It is the Red planet, is it not?"
"No," interjected Chiun. "In my language, it is Hwa-Song, the Fire Planet."
Colonel Rushenko shrugged. "It is the same thing. I can tell you this now because the world may soon end, and if it does not, Russians will not be going to Mars without space vehicles anyway. But when the U.S. achieved the moon landing, a twenty-year plan was drawn up to claim Mars for USSR. It would have been the ultimate expression of Soviet technological superiority. Anyone can land on the barren moon only three days away. But Mars, it is an authentic planet. We would have seized it, controlled the cosmic high ground and mocked you from its red glory."
"What happened to this twenty-year plan?" asked Chiun.
Rushenko shrugged. "What always happens. The quotas were not achieved, and it became a thirty-year plan, a forty and so on until it was forgotten."
"You can have Mars, too. I'm sick of Mars," Remo growled.
"No one will go to Mars now. It is a pity. All our dreams are rust and dust. Yours as well as mine."
"Save it for the funeral," said Remo.
"Whose?"
"Yours if you don't get off the subject."
Colonel Rushenko subsided. The Yak took off, heading west to Europe and the first refueling stop that had a working telephone.
Chapter 34
Dr. Cosmo Pagan was in his element. For some, that element was the earth. Others, the sky. Still others, the oceans of the world.
Cosmo Pagan's element was nothing less than the media.
The phones would not stop ringing. It didn't seem to matter to anyone that he gave confused and contradictory theories to the strange events that were troubling the blue earth.
It certainly didn't matter to Cosmo Pagan. People read only one newspaper a day these days-if that. And they watched only one newscast a day. Since most people were creatures of habit, they stuck with what they liked.
Thus, Cosmo Pagan was simultaneously informing newspaper readers and TV viewers that the inexplicable events dominating the headlines were a direct consequence of ozone depletion, random asteroid strikes and the possible impact of cometary fragments from a hitherto-undiscovered invisible comet bypassing Earth.
The comet theory seemed to go over biggest. At least, Pagan got the most media requests to tell the world about the dangers of passing comets.
He got other calls, too. A zillion lecture offers. A bunch of new book offers. PBS was on the horn, too. They wanted to do a special on life on other planets. It was Cosmo Pagan's favorite topic. He had become an exobiologist chiefly because until proof of actual extraterrestrial life came along, he could just make stuff up. He didn't even need factoids.
Cosmo accepted all offers. Except one.
"Dr. Pagan," an anxious man asked. "I can't identify myself or my employer, but we're looking for a man just like you. You'd be our in-house consultant and company spokesman."
Cosmo Pagan didn't need to know the who or the what. He had only one concern. "How much?"
"A million a year."
"I love that number! It's a deal."
"Great," the suddenly relieved voice said. "But understand this will be an exclusive. You couldn't speak publicly on any subject in your field. In fact, we insist that you immediately halt all public statements on any subject until the contract is drawn up. Especially this asteroid and ozone scare-talk."
"Out of the question. I don't do exclusives. Goodbye "