“Please have Serick and Merritt there,” she ordered.
Parrish listened on the phone for a moment. “Oh, no,” he whispered. “Madam President, CentCom reports the UIF is attacking in Saudi Arabia with tanks and APCs on a wide front.”
True to her nature, Turner hated surprises and glared at him. “How did that happen?”
“We’ll need to find out,” Parrish said.
Shaw was the first to arrive in the Situation Room and found a seat against the back wall. Vice President Kennett was the second, followed by Mazie, the DCI, and Butler. Serick was close behind, and Secretary of Defense Merritt was the last. Only General Wilding was missing. They crowded into the small room and spoke quietly while they waited. The DCI sat at his normal place and nervously thumbed through a stack of reports. He kept shaking his head. Finally the Marine colonel who had briefed them so many times entered and stood by the big monitors opposite Turner’s chair. No one said a word. The door opened, and Richard Parrish announced the president. She walked in, still in evening dress, and sat down. She nodded at the colonel.
“General Wilding,” Colonel Scovill began, “sends his regrets, but he’s fully occupied at the NMCC and will be delayed a few minutes. He’ll be here as soon as he can.” He pointed at the center display. A large-scale map of the front in Saudi Arabia appeared on the screen. “The UIF has initiated a major attack at these points.” The moving symbols on the screen indicated the tanks, APCs, and number of troops the UIF was throwing into the battle.
“How did that happen?” Turner asked, looking directly at the DCI. Everyone in the room knew they were dealing with a major intelligence failure. He didn’t answer and only stared at the small computer in front of him.
“We’ll get an answer to you as soon as possible,” Scovill said. His pointer flicked to the head of a big arrow on the map. “Please note that the spearhead of the attack is directed at the Saudi forces in this area. So far they appear to be holding as CentCom rushes in reinforcements, mostly British.” His voice was matter-of-fact as he explained what they were seeing on the screen, all bad. The three screens cycled to Malaysia.
“Simultaneous with this attack,” he continued, “six Scuds were launched from this area.” A pointer circled the Taman Negara in the center of Malaysia. “Our tracking indicates that at least four were aimed at the Kuala Lumpur area and two launched on a southerly trajectory toward Camp Alpha. So far we have not received strike reports, but the press reports over a dozen explosions in Kuala Lumpur and widespread panic, fires, and looting.”
“Four missiles and over a dozen explosions,” Turner said. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“The situation on the ground is confused, Madam President. My guess is that the explosions are being double-or triple-counted. Please remember that Scuds are notoriously inaccurate.”
Turner looked around the table. “The situation at our embassy?”
The DCI was still looking at the small laptop computer in front of him. He coughed, but it came out more like a strangling sound. “Madam President,” he finally managed, “UPI reports it was hit by numerous explosions.”
Turner stood up. “Can we assume those were Chinese Scuds?”
The DCI gulped hard. “No, ma’am, we can’t. They don’t have Scuds and claim what’s going on in Malaysia is strictly local — indigenous farmers out to correct ancient wrongs.”
Kennett scoffed. “And how do the Chinese know all this?”
The DCI said, “They have admitted in private conversations that they’ve given limited support to the rebels, mostly encouragement, but nothing on this level. They also claim that the Libyans are more involved, since the rebels are supposedly Islamic.”
Shaw snorted. “It’s payback time.” As one, every head in the room turned to him. “Yugoslavia, May seventh, 1999,” he said. “We bombed the Chinese embassy in Belgrade. Killed three people. Who just happened to be their key intelligence officers. We said it was a mistake and paid four and a half million to compensate the victims. A cheap price to take them off the board.” He looked at them as if they were all children. “The Chinese have very long memories.”
“Ma’am,” Scovill said, pointing to the left monitor, “Camp Alpha reported two explosions approximately ten miles to the north. That correlates with the max range of the Scud, a hundred seventy-four miles.”
“So they wasted two Scuds?” Turner replied.
“If those Scuds were from North Korea,” Butler answered, “the North Koreans claim a max range of two hundred ten miles.”
Shaw snorted. “Sounds like someone got hornswoggled. Sumbitch! Those people can’t even play straight with each other.”
“They won’t make that mistake again,” Butler promised.
“Madam President,” Scovill said. This time he pointed to the right screen. More reports from Malaysia were flooding in. “We have reports that units of the Malaysian Army guarding Kuala Lumpur are under heavy attack.” He stared at the screens for a moment. “Excuse me, ma’am.” He quickly cycled through various menus, calling up selected information bases. Then, “Madam President, the situation is unclear, and we need a few hours to sort it all out. The UIF is attacking at what may be the weakest sector. As for Malaysia, it’s much worse than we’re seeing. I expect Kuala Lumpur to fall within hours.”
“Colonel!” Merritt barked, silencing him. Everyone in the room knew that Scovill had made a terrible mistake by giving the president his evaluation, not that of his superiors. “You’re not here to speculate.” Merritt exercised his authority. “You’re relieved, Colonel.”
Scovill gave a curt nod. “Thank you, sir. Madam President, with your permission, I’d like to rejoin my old unit.”
“Where is it?” Turner asked.
“In Saudi Arabia.”
Turner felt a lump in her throat. For a moment she couldn’t speak. Then a little nod. “Take care, Colonel. And thank you.” She waited until he had left. She looked at the secretary of defense. “Robert, I need a comprehensive evaluation of the situation. Please get one together, and I’ll take it to the NMCC. Given the circumstances, we don’t need General Wilding and his staff wasting time coming here. Bernie, I want a fresh look at the intelligence picture. Get one together. Sam, track the domestic spin-off and get with the press secretary. Patrick, I’ll need a new campaign strategy. Work one out. Mazie, Stephan, give me time to change and meet me in my study in fifteen minutes.” She looked around the room. “Go.”
The DCI sat staring at the papers in his hands as they filed out of the room, fully aware that the president had totally ignored him.
Mazie and Serick were waiting in the president’s private study when she joined them. She was wearing a dark blue pantsuit and low-heeled shoes. Her hair was pulled back into a chignon. She was ready to go to war and got right to business. “We need that second front. Any progress with the Germans and Turks?”
“Everything is in motion,” Mazie said. “I’m in contact with von Lubeck, and the Germans are favorable. The problem is with the Turks, and we haven’t heard from them. Bernie’s working that end.”
“Okay, stay on top of it. Stephan, any luck splitting off Iran or Syria?”