Abrams said, “Apparently their house next door is designed to weather the storm as well. I suppose they’ll use the place as a command and control center after the EMP attack.”
Van Dorn nodded.
Katherine said, “Is this house…?”
Van Dorn shook his head. “No, and I don’t have a bomb shelter, either. I don’t plan for disasters, I prevent them.”
Abrams thought a moment, then looked at Van Dorn. “Your close physical proximity to them must make them a little nervous… Is it possible they have something special planned for this house?”
Van Dorn replied, “I’m fairly certain they do.” He nodded to himself, then added, “I have something special planned for them, too, and it’s not my usual light-and-sound show. It is instead a rather unneighborly gate-crashing.” He smiled in a way that Abrams thought was both mischievous and sinister. Van Dorn added, “The larger issues of world politics pale beside the petty squabbles of feuding neighbors. If I’m to end my days on this planet, I’m going to take a good number of those bastards with me.”
54
Van Dorn did not expand on his views of how to deal with unfriendly neighbors, and Abrams did not probe. The study was silent enough to hear the clock ticking on the mantel. They could also hear the muffled sounds of Van Dorn’s guests as they made the obligatory “oohs” and “ahhs” as the pyrotechnic display heated up. Katherine, Abrams noticed, looked sad but not dispirited, as if she’d lost a tennis set but not yet the match.
Van Dorn regarded Abrams for some time, then said, “We sent you in there only to confirm some of our suspicions. We didn’t expect you to have a chat with Henry Kimberly, or to discover that their people did not take their buses back to Manhattan. Fine job.”
Abrams acknowledged the compliment with a short nod, and said, “I would guess that the events of the past few days or weeks — which you and your friends precipitated — have spooked them. Perhaps pushed them into action.”
Van Dorn studied the tip of his burning cigar, then said, “Yes, the final irony. We stampeded them into action. Perhaps before they were completely ready.”
Abrams observed, “It doesn’t appear that we’re completely ready either.”
“Well… we are warned.”
Katherine said, “Isn’t it possible, George, that this is only a drill? A test to see if they can hide their people in Glen Cove without detection?”
Van Dorn shook his head. “On the contrary. They would not normally have to hide anyone. They would simply coordinate the EMP storm with their usual weekend in Glen Cove. We’ve always known that the Russians would prefer to schedule a thermonuclear war or EMP attack on a holiday weekend. Their people in Washington and San Francisco would also be at country places, and American response to Red Alerts, no matter what anyone tells you, is two to three minutes slower on the weekend. For instance, Pegasus has not called back, and it’s been”—he glanced at his watch—“twelve minutes.” He looked at Katherine. “No, I wish I could believe it was a drill, but the fact that they’ve hidden those people here in Glen Cove on a night when they should all be back in Manhattan means to me that tonight is the night. Mr. Abrams is right.”
Katherine nodded.
Abrams said, “I’m wondering why the Russians went to so much trouble in making their house resistant to EMP. Why not just shut off the master switch and pull all the plugs a few minutes before the EMP storm?”
Van Dorn replied, “No one is certain that cutting off the power will completely safeguard electrical components. But even if it were true, the Russians won’t pull their main switch, because the FBI monitors their electrical usage and would be on the horn to the President within five seconds.”
Abrams’ eyes moved around the room, as though he were taking in all the electrical components.
Van Dorn seemed to know what he was thinking. “Yes, life would be very different. We would freeze to death in the dark.” He looked at his desk. “Even my pocket calculator would give up the ghost.”
Abrams said, “We seem to have no defense — but could we at least retaliate?”
Van Dorn began to reply, then the phone rang and he picked it up. “Van Dorn. Yes.” He repeated his identification phrase, listened a moment, then said, “Well, where the hell is he? No, I will not give you the information. Is Unicorn there? Centaur? I repeat, this is a Condition Omega.” Van Dorn nodded several times as he listened. “All right. Fine. I’m still here. Have one of them call me.” He hung up and looked at Abrams and Katherine. “Pegasus is inexplicably unavailable. Unicorn or Centaur will call back soon. In the meantime, they’ve accepted my analysis of the situation as an Omega alert, and things are moving.”
Katherine’s head suddenly turned toward the bay window behind Van Dorn, and her eyes widened.
Van Dorn looked quickly over his shoulder. “What is it?”
She drew a deep breath, then spoke. “I… I thought… It must have been heat lightning.”
Van Dorn licked his lips, then said, “Well, the lights are still on, so it must have been. But that’s probably what it will look like… Bad luck to have heat lightning tonight of all nights, isn’t it?”
Abrams replied, “I’m not certain if it’s bad luck or a cosmic joke.”
Katherine added, “Whatever, it’s damned unnerving.”
Van Dorn cleared his throat. “There’s not much more I can do right now. The question on the floor concerned retaliation, and that is a complex question. Could we? Would we? Should we?”
Katherine said, “What do you mean, should we?”
Van Dorn replied, “It’s a moral question. The President will have to be convinced that it was the Russians who caused the EMP storm. And he will have to decide if a crippled nuclear response will serve any purpose other than inviting a massive Soviet counterstrike.”
Katherine nodded slowly. “I understand… ”
Abrams asked, “How is the nuclear device that will cause an EMP storm going to be delivered? I assume any missile trajectory out of Russia will be instantly spotted.”
Van Dorn stubbed out his cigar. “That’s the question. We don’t know. But we do know that a Soviet submarine off the coast of California can launch a missile that will explode over the center of the United States, at the required altitude to cause an EMP storm — flight time three to four minutes. Before a submarine launch was even confirmed, it would be too late to act. The command, control, and communications network — the glue that holds our entire nuclear program together — will be gone. Once that’s gone, that’s it. As one Air Force general said, the winner of the next war will be the side with the last two working radios.”
Abrams walked to the large bay window and gazed across the crowded lawn, past the striped tent and the tables, beyond the glare of the party lights, to where the edge of the sweeping lawn met the expanse of night sky. A sizable rocket rose from the depths of the waterless swimming pool, its fiery plume brilliant against the black sky, then exploded in a dazzling shower of golden particles. He turned from the window and said, “In effect, our own advanced technology — our microchips, computers, and transistors on which we’re so dependent — leave us vulnerable. If we unleashed a retaliatory electromagnetic storm over the Soviet Union, the consequences to them would not be as cataclysmic.”
“That’s correct,” answered Van Dorn. “This is one of those cases where primitiveness is a distinct advantage. You can’t burn out a country’s microchips and computers if they don’t have any. And if they do but they’re not dependent on them, they’re not as vulnerable as we are.”
Van Dorn picked up his pocket calculator and looked at it, then said, “Every civilization has its Achilles’ heel. If we introduced a rice blight into China and wiped out their crop, they would suffer mass starvation. If they did the same thing to us, no one would notice much. Do you see? Do you understand why we’re on the threshold of extinction?”