He nodded stiffly and turned away. At the door he paused. "General," he said awkwardly, "you’re sure you’ll be all right?"
Quinten smiled. It was a genuine, warm smile, the kind of smile Howard hadn’t seen on Quinten’s face for a long time. "I’ll be fine, Paul. Just fine. Get those orders out fast."
"I’ll get them out fast." Howard went out through the door. Quinten watched him go. He heard the noise of his steps in the corridor, and the slam of the door which cut off the two command offices from the rest of the building. He thought Howard was a good boy. In time he’d make a real good commander, too.
Quinten moved over to the door. It was two minutes after the deadline he had set himself. He carefully locked the door, and went back to his desk. A year, the specialist had said. Maybe as little as six months. Maybe as much as two years. How wrong could a man be?
From the second drawer of his left hand pedestal he took a slim wallet of photographs. He looked at them for a few moments, then replaced them in the wallet and put the wallet back in the drawer. On the desk in front of him the heavy, lethal bulk of the four five was like a magnet, drawing his attention to it as it lay across the closed cover of his note pad. He felt an urge to pick it up to feel in his hand again the heft of the familiar weapon. He fought the urge down. As he had told Howard, he believed he would have to account for what he had done. There were certain formalities. They did not detain him long.
Within minutes of leaving Quinten’s office, Howard had ensured that the orders to cease fire were in course of transmission to all defence teams. He met the commander of the attacking troops, a short, lively light colonel, saluted him as courtesy demanded, and escorted him up to Quinten’s office.
He tapped on Quinten’s door. It was the first time he had done that since he acquired the exec’s privilege of free entry. There was no reply. He tapped again, and a third time. Still no reply.
The door was tough. It took them nearly a minute before they succeeded in kicking it open. Howard was first into the room. It didn’t help at all that he expected what he saw. The wave of nausea lasted all of thirty seconds, and then it was gone and he was ready to start work again.
While the infantry colonel stood by him, he initiated action to trace Bailey and Hudson. Pretty soon he knew the answer. Wherever they were, they were not on Sonora Base.
Chapter 16
In Washington the first pale light of an early dawn was appearing in the Eastern sky. In Moscow, the streets were gloomy with the approach of a winter dusk. Between the two cities the invisible radio links hummed and crackled with the passage of new information between the Russian and American staffs, and occasionally a short exchange between the President and the Marshal himself.
Most of the bombers of the 843rd were over Russian territory now. The intersections plotted on their tracks, which represented another five minutes flying towards their targets, were creeping steadily onwards and inwards, so that the map now resembled nothing more than a series of railway lines, all slowly moving into the Russian interior, as each five minutes a sleeper was laid across the track to indicate progress.
One of the tracks ended in a small red cross just south of Kxyl Orda in Turkestan. The Russians had reported the destruction of a B-52 at that point. They had been reticent about the method of destruction, merely that the bomber had exploded in the air. The bombs had not been detonated.
Intelligence had deduced from this that the 52 had had the misfortune to cross an experimental missile area. They knew already that the Russians used certain areas of the Kizil Kum desert to test missiles, and had fired some of their early intermediate range missiles from the Kizil Kum as targets in the Aral Sea.
The news had been brought straight in to General Steele, just as he was about to sum up the overall situation. He glanced at the report, frowned, and began to speak. "Mr. President, Your Excellency, the air situation is this. The eight forty-third is steadily moving in on its targets, and although some of the airplanes have now been over Russian territory for a considerable period, we have received only two reports of them being engaged and hit. The first reported a hit on a bomber flying south towards Kolguev. We have now established that this bomber’s primary target is the I.C.B.M. Base at Kotlass. We do not know whether the plane is still flying or not. We are counting it as probably destroyed.
"We feel on safe ground in counting it as probably destroyed since news has just come of another bomber which has been definitely destroyed I am glad to say" — he glanced briefly at Zorubin—"that the bombs did not explode, and as far as we know no casualties were caused except to the crew of the plane."
"Thank you," Zorubin said quietly.
"This incident occurred in an area where we know there to be a Russian experimental missile centre. I refer to the Kizil Kum desert, Your Excellency."
Zorubin nodded his head. "You are correct."
"There is a parallel between the two incidents in that both have occurred in areas where the bombers were likely to encounter experimental missiles. On the other hand, none of the other bombers seem to have been hit. We are now becoming certain that the normal Russian missile and fighter defences are not going to be able to stop the 52.K’s. We may lose two or three more. The majority will get through.
"As regards enemy air, there are no reports yet of the Soviet bomber force taking off. There is more activity than usual on the light bomber airfields facing NATO, but so far no positive indication that an attack is intended. Sixth Fleet reports it is being shadowed by two submarines. Admiral Maclellan feels this is part of the normal procedure the Russians follow since they got access to Egyptian and Syrian bases. As far as Sixth Fleet is concerned, shadowing by Russian subs is S.O.P. They aren’t worried about it. From all other sea areas reports are of normalcy, no hostile contacts whatsoever have been reported.
"From all this, Mr. President, we have reached two firm conclusions. Disregarding political probabilities, we feel sure the Russians cannot get their long range bombers off the ground fast enough before their fields are smeared. And secondly, that at least twenty-eight of the bombers will penetrate to their targets."
"I see." The President was thoughtful. "Assuming twenty-five only get through, would they deal a mortal blow?"
"I wouldn’t say mortal," Franklin answered quckly. "It’s a big country. Crippling would be a better expression. It would leave them completely at the mercy of any forces which followed up, because they wouldn’t have the strength left to hit those forces where it counts, that is on the bases back in this country. Their offensive power would be so badly weakened I doubt whether they’d succeed in getting more than two or three bombs on to this country."
"And they’d realise that?"
"Well, yes, Mr. President, they would. Any competent air staff could work out the answer in ten minutes."
"I must know whether a further blow is being contemplated if you cannot succeed in recalling your bombers." Zorubin’s voice was harsh. The President glanced at him in surprise. The Russian Ambassador’s face had lost its usually ruddy colour. It was pale, and the expression in Zorubin’s eyes was desperate.
"It is not," he said flatly. He thought that Zorubin must know of the existence of the world-killing devices buried in the Urals. He revised his estimate of Zorubin’s importance. To have that information, the Russian would have to be very close to the central power.
General Keppler picked up his telephone in response to the winking light. He listened for a few moments, and then said, "O.K., get in to the commander’s office fast. Don’t waste a second." He replaced the phone. "Commander at Sonora’s ceased fire," he said briefly. "I’ve instructed Mackenzie, the battalion commander, to get to Quinten’s office the fastest he can."