“And, as promised, we’ll put an immediate and total ban on French imports into the United States of America. We’ll close your embassy, and expel your diplomats from Washington. You have ten seconds to answer.”
Morgan felt that the President of France, like so many of his predecessors, was long on posture, short on real principle. The Frenchman thought of the huge expense of renewing the satellite. His mind flashed on the near-total wreckage of the French wine and cheese industries, the colossal damage to Peugeot, Citroën…the lockout of France from the many international councils…the appalling international publicity…the personal hatred of millions of people aimed at him, the man who had refused to help, when the U.S.A., under dire threat — his fellow Permanent Council Members of the United Nations — had asked for what seemed like a comparatively very minor favor. He knew true immortality when he faced it.
“Very well, Admiral Morgan. This time your belligerence has won the day. The European GPS will be blacked out at midnight on Wednesday, October 7, for forty-eight hours. I have not liked your methods. But, as always, my country will do the right thing. Please send your emissaries to my Government with the appropriate documents early on Monday morning.”
“That’s very good of you, Mr. President. Two things more — don’t let there be any delays or foul-ups, and don’t forget…but for us, you’d be speaking fucking German…”
Arnold crashed down the receiver. “I’m not altogether certain that last remark was absolutely vital,” said President Bedford, smiling.
“Who gives a damn?” said his C in C High Tide. “The goddamned French satellite is going off, and that’s all that matters. We got a GPS total blackout, and that’s going to force that Barracuda inshore, because his long-range missiles have just gone blind. That’s where we want him. That’s where we have a real chance.”
President Bedford said, “You want me to put the agreement with France into operation? I’ll just call the State Department…”
“Perfect, sir. Will you also call General Scannell and inform him of the French agreement? He’ll get the practical side under control…You know, coordinating the satellites, so it all goes blank at the same time.”
The President nodded and left the room. And Arnold returned to his huge computerized charts of the Atlantic. “East,” he muttered. “It’s gotta be East. Anywhere west of those islands is in the direct path of the tsunami as it rolls out. No ship could survive. The Barracuda’s CO must have worked that out.”
“What’s that?” said Kathy, who was trying to beat her way through the piles of paper on the other office table.
“Come over here,” said the Admiral. “And I’ll show you what I mean…See this? These are the Canary Islands…
“And the big question is, will the Barracuda stay south if he’s coming in from somewhere east of the Caribbean? Or will he make a big circle and run north to surprise us?”
“I’m not really sure.”
“Well, north is best. We got two nuclear boats up there with the carrier…He can’t go there without getting caught. My guess is, he’ll stay south, come in towards the western Sahara, and then turn in for his launch. He cannot be more than 250 miles out when he launches, satellites or not…because if he can’t get in behind those islands, fast, the tsunami will dump him right on the goddamned beach in Long Island, upside down with his prop in the air.”
Kathy laughed at her incorrigible husband, as she always did.
Back out in the dark waters of the Cape Verde Plain, Adm. Ben Badr held his personal letter from the Ayatollah. It read:
Benjamin, you are a priceless soul in the cause of Allah. And soon you will carry his sword into battle. This letter is to remind you of the responsibility you bear in our crusade against the Great Satan.
Perhaps I should remind you that our Islamic faith came originally from the deserts of Arabia. And it always had overtones of war. For the Prophet was also a Conqueror and a Statesman. There was no precedent for the word of the Prophet. It came directly from God, and within one hundred years, it destroyed the Persian Empire, and conquered great swaths of the Empire of Byzantium
At that time, Arab armies swept through North Africa, obliterating Christianity in Egypt and in Tunisia, the home of their St. Augustine. Those armies ransacked the Iberian Peninsula and drove into France. Ah, yes, my son, from the very beginnings, we have been a warlike people.
Remember too that Islamic science and scholarship were ahead of Europe for centuries. We gave them the idea of universities, which the Crusaders took home with them. We conquered Turkey, captured Constantinople, which became the capital of the Ottoman Empire.
Only in the last three hundred years did the Unbelievers emerge from defeat and total irrelevance to dominate the Middle East. They redrafted our borders, invented new states, divided up our land, stole our wealth, our oil, and divided it up between European Imperialists, forcing upon us Western ways and what they think is culture.
After we had triumphed for so long, the conquest of the entire world by our True Faith seemed inevitable. But it went wrong for us. And now Allah has granted us a way to make a huge stride to correct those three hundred years of Western arrogance and plundering.
You must remember always, this is our endless Jihad, a war both spiritual and violent, and one that would have been blessed by the Prophet. This Jihad should be central to the life of every Muslim. We do not wish to steal what is not ours, but we dream of a wide Islamic Empire, one which is not dominated by the United States of America.
My son, we want them out of the Middle East, and with them, their degenerate, debauched way of life. And if we cannot bend them to our wishes, we will surely make them grow weary of the conflict. I pray for your Holy Mission, and I pray that you and your brave warriors will succeed in this great venture. All Islam will one day understand what you have done. And we wish Godspeed to the Scimitars, and may Allah go with you.
The Ayatollah did not sign the letter, but it was written in his own hand, and Ben Badr folded it and tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt.
Ben Badr was a consummate Naval professional, at ease with his crew, with his own abilities as a Commanding Officer, and with the rewards of his long training. He did not see himself as a candidate for a suicide mission, but in the deepest recesses of his own soul, unspoken and rarely considered, he knew he was prepared to die, if necessary, a hero, so long as he was fighting for what he and his people believed in. He was honored that he should be in the vanguard of those who were chosen. He would bring the submarine within range of the great volcano, and he would blast it with his tailor-made nuclear missiles. Either that, or he would die in the attempt. He neither sought nor expected death. But if death pressed its hot, fiery fist upon the hull of the Barracuda as he drove towards Cumbre Vieja, then he would face it with equanimity, and without fear.
Admiral Badr checked with CPO Ali Zahedi to make sure that their course was correct and the speed still under 6 knots. He then moved down to the bank of computer screens outside the reactor room and talked for a while with CPO Ardeshir Tikku. Everything was still running sweetly after their long, and often slow, journey from the far eastern coast of China. This really was the most impressive ship, Russian engineering at its very best.
The VM-5 PWA, reputed to be Russia’s most efficient nuclear reactor ever, was built up on the shores of the White Sea by the renowned engineers in Archangel. So far, deep within the Barracuda, it had never faltered and was still effortlessly providing steam for the GT3 A turbine. Ardeshir Tikku could not imagine any ship’s propulsion units running with more precision.