President Hardy and Joanna watched the press briefing together from his private study, just off the Oval Office. They’d reviewed the final draft of Richfield’s statement at breakfast. While a few trusted reporters had been “leaked” early copies of the draft statement last night, the missile’s existence would be news to everyone else in the briefing room, in the country, and the rest of the world. In all probability, most Russians wouldn’t know about the weapon their leaders had created.
Bill Hyland came into the study as Secretary Richfield was answering reporters’ questions. Most were predictable. “When will it enter service? How can it be so fast?” Richfield had rehearsed answers ready.
Patterson silently gestured for Hyland to take a seat as the conference wound up. After Hardy muted the sound but left the screen on, the national security advisor said, “Well, it’s not a secret weapon anymore.” There was a note of resignation in his voice.
“And that’s the entire point of this exercise, Bill,” Hardy answered firmly. Hyland was still trying to come to grips with the president’s decision to release highly classified information to the public. “After all, the Russians know all about it. They can still use it for a first strike, and that’s a real problem, but we’ll know who and how.” He grinned. “Nobody likes having their secrets found out. And now they’ll wonder what else we know. The Russians have been using information as a cudgel for years, I think it’s time we do some thwacking of our own.”
“The Russians use exaggeration, innuendo, and outright lies in their information operations, Mr. President,” countered Hyland. “We are using information derived from highly classified sources, the use of which puts those sources at risk!”
Hardy frowned; they’d had this discussion earlier. “The DNI and DCI both agree that there is minimal risk to the HUMINT source. The Russians already know about other collection methods. Besides, facts are easier to keep track of and can have a greater impact on the intended target.”
The television’s image shifted from a briefing room to a news studio. Joanna grabbed the controller and turned up the sound. “It’s Christine, Lowell.” The CNN commentator had been one of the journalists to receive an early copy and a short briefing “on background.” The story was within Laird’s area of expertise, and the administration knew she’d be leading the coverage at CNN. Laird had evidently used the night and early morning to line up “talent” for her show.
“… is from the Council on Nuclear Weapons, and is an expert on their design and construction. Dr. Ulrich, this not-quite-a-torpedo and not-quite-a-submarine swims incredibly fast and incredibly deep, then launches an equally fantastic missile that can reach hundreds of miles inland. I have to ask, is this really possible?”
Ulrich nodded, black beard framing his smile. “The Russians have built more than a few exotic weapons. The Shkval is a rocket-propelled torpedo that shocked everyone by how fast it traveled. It entered service in 1977. The Lun was a massive aircraft that skimmed the wave tops and carried six huge antiship missiles on its back. We’ve known about the Status-6 torpedo for some time. Putting a missile payload on it is both imaginative and potentially very effective.”
Ulrich had brought a map of the U.S. with the missile’s reach shaded in red. It ranged past Pittsburgh on the east coast, and well past Las Vegas if launched from the Pacific.
“The torpedo vehicle would arrive at the edge of the continental shelf, then rise quickly and eject the missile just below the surface of the water. Because they’ve reportedly made the torpedo quiet, the first detectable sign of an attack would be when missiles leave the water and fly inland. At six times the speed of sound, the missile would take just a few minutes, at most seven, to reach its target. Our military does not have an air defense weapon capable of shooting it down. Actually, it’s questionable whether any nation has a weapon in service or in development that could hit something that fast.”
“It certainly sounds scary, but Russia has had nuclear-armed missiles for decades. Why do you think are people so scared now?” Laird asked. It was a softball question, but that was deliberate on her part.
“We all grew up with the frightening knowledge that America and Russia could blow each other up, and the world along with them. The only thing preventing it was ‘deterrence’—the idea that regardless of whoever launched an attack, the other side would see it coming and have twenty to thirty minutes to respond, firing its missiles in return. Both sides would be destroyed, so nobody wanted to start shooting. Mutually assured destruction was a stable defensive doctrine, and it worked for over sixty years.”
“But now, with this new weapon, there’s little or no warning,” Laird prompted.
“Exactly. Many of our major cities are within its range, including Washington, D.C. and other military command centers. If they were all suddenly knocked out, that confusion would severely delay an organized response.”
Ulrich explained, “It actually takes some time to order a nuclear attack, especially an all-out response. There is no red button, big or small. We should take comfort that weapons that can destroy the world are not on a hair trigger. This is why a ‘decapitation’ strike may actually work.
“It’s likely the first thing anyone would do after hearing Washington had been bombed is ask for confirmation, then ask who’s in charge. In the time it takes us to sort out who’s next in the chain of command and then for that person to decide how to respond, a follow-on attack by Russian nuclear ICBMs could prevent or severely weaken our response. I personally believe it is still impossible to ‘win’ a nuclear war, but the Shashka might make it possible for the Russians to actually survive one. We would not.”
The camera panned back to show two men, one on either side of Laird and Dr. Ulrich the center. The seating was a tactical move by her. Senator Emmers was on the Senate Armed Services Committee, and Congressman Steve Bartek was on the House Armed Services Committee. Both committees had received a classified brief that morning about the Shashka, and come to very different conclusions.
“He’s given away the farm!” Emmers almost shouted. “Hardy’s just admitted that the Russians can take us out anytime they want, and we can’t stop them.”
“President Hardy didn’t create the weapon,” Congressman Steve Bartek, a member of the House Armed Services Committee, argued. “Moscow built this weapon in secret. Hardy’s administration deserves credit for discovering it and warning us that it exists.”
“He doesn’t seem to be doing much about it. This weapon is a gun not just pointed at our head, but with the hammer cocked.” Emmers’s tone was angry. “We have to match their move. Put our bombers back on round the clock airborne alert. Put nuclear warheads back on our Tomahawk missiles…”
“Just because the president hasn’t said anything about a U.S. countermeasure doesn’t mean there isn’t one in the works, Senator. Besides, telling the bad guys what you’re doing to stop him seems less than wise. Ramping up our nuclear forces to Cold War levels would only increase the volatility of the European crisis,” Bartek reminded him.
“And this thing doesn’t?”
“It would give Fedorin exactly what he likes — an outside threat to rail against.”
“That’s enough,” Hardy ordered. “Turn it off.”
Patterson protested, “Lowell, please, Steven’s doing such a good job. After his committee was briefed, I warned him that he might get picked by Christine.”
Hardy’s shocked expression caused her to raise her hands in protest. “Through Bill, of course,” she said, gesturing to the national security advisor. “It’s just that Steven had been on Laird’s show before, so we recommended that he study up, just in case.”
The president surrendered gracefully. “It was a good idea, and Bill, thanks for passing her idea along.” Hardy sighed. “It just sounds too much like our meeting last night.”
“Nobody actually shouted, Mr. President,” Hyland pointed out.
“I may have,” Hardy admitted. “I know we’re taking a domestic hit by not taking the overt steps to counter the…” he paused to check a note on his desk, “Shashka. But I won’t give Fedorin a club to beat us over the head with, and we don’t have the money or the planes to keep bombers aloft twenty-four seven. We can always crank up the DEFCON level later, if we really need to.”
“Everybody agreed not to mention the base off Bolshevik Island, at least for now,” Hyland offered.
Hardy nodded. “No point. And while I want the Russians looking over their shoulder, I don’t want to tip them off we know what they’re doing up there, at least until we know more and have a plan. Until then,” the president ordered, “use every- and anything you can think of to track the activity at that place. If they order out for pizza, I want to know whether it’s thick or thin crust.”