“Nice.”
“What’s on your mind, Jake?”
“As you probably know, Admiral—”
“Cart. Always Cart to you.”
“Yessir. Cart. The president appointed me acting director of the agency after Mario Tomazic drowned—”
“I read about it. Congratulations.”
“I’m not sure congrats are in order. I feel like the guy getting strapped into the hot seat for the big jolt. In any event, I’m trying to get up to speed. Found a file in Tomazic’s office that said the Chinese have hacked into the navy’s database and are reading ship deployment schedules and the like.”
“Yeah, I know about it.”
“Can we talk here, in your den?”
“It’s swept every week. They did it yesterday, as a matter of fact. I think we’re okay.”
“Without going into it too deeply, I can tell you NSA is also into their computers. The Fort Meade folks tell me they are sharing summaries with you and your intel staff. The reason I came tonight — I would like your private, confidential, not-for-publication assessment of Chinese naval intentions.”
Cart McKiernan wiped his face again with the towel and took a healthy drink of water. “The picture isn’t good, Jake. The Chinese are building massive amphibious capabilities and pumping up their naval assets. I think they’re capable right now of winning a short naval war with Japan and Taiwan, and invading Taiwan. The staff thinks they also have designs on the southern Ryukyu and Senkaku Islands. That would give them the seabed between those islands and the mainland. Needless to say, geologists think the oil deposits there are probably as large as those in the Gulf of Mexico.”
“What about the United States?”
“They have already stated publicly that their nuclear ballistic missile subs could strike American West Coast cities, killing up to twelve million Americans. Those are their figures.”
“Jesus.”
“I don’t think he’s going to help us with this,” the admiral said drily. “What we have is the U.S. Navy. And that’s about it.”
Jake Grafton took a deep breath, then said, “It boils down to their assessment of what our reaction would be if they reacted to a ‘provocation’ by Japan or Taiwan. If they think we won’t aid our allies, or can’t aid our allies, we’re screwed.”
“The White House says we will stand by our allies,” Cart McKiernan said flatly.
“Right.”
“We have treaties.”
“Treaties are only paper when the shooting starts.” Jake Grafton worked on his Diet Coke. “How about the Middle East, Syria and Israel and Iran and all of that?” he asked.
McKiernan scratched his nose. “What can I say? American foreign policy has been a disaster. Militants killed the U.S. ambassador in Libya. Nothing happened. The president was going to bomb Syria, then he decided to leave it up to Congress. He made a deal with Iran, which didn’t abide by their agreements. American credibility has gone into the ceramic convenience. Every holy warrior, tyrant and raghead wannabe has read the writing on the wall. America will do nothing. Yet when the shit really hits the fan and the public and Congress go berserk, the White House will call the United States Navy. Which has had its budget slashed and so forth.”
Jake Grafton sat trying to digest it. Finally he said, “What’s in your naval database that the Chinese might be interested in?”
The change of subject didn’t cause McKiernan to miss a beat. “Submarine and carrier operations, for one,” he said promptly. “When they stage one of their little propaganda productions in the Far East, you can bet they’ve read our ship schedule and know what we can do to respond and what we can’t.”
McKiernen made a gesture of frustration. “And if the Chinese are into our stuff, Russia probably is. Maybe al Qaeda. Iran. North Korea. God only knows. The only people who don’t know our operational plans are our own people. We never tell our sailors anything, so they feel like they’re being jerked around without reason.”
“So you assume the navy’s computer systems are all compromised.”
“Yep. Everybody but Americans knows that all the Atlantic Fleet carrier task groups have been ordered to Norfolk on December twenty-second.”
Grafton stared at the CNO. He certainly didn’t know that.
“We did it before when the president and Congress got into a budget squabble,” McKiernan continued. “The debt limit will have to be raised again by year’s end.”
“Doesn’t anyone remember Pearl Harbor?”
Cart McKiernan leaned forward. “The United States Navy is following orders. The orders came straight from the White House.”
Grafton’s thoughts tumbled around. “Who at the White House?”
“Man, the National Command Authority. That’s the president. I’m just a sailor. I take orders and I give orders. I suspect the president wants those five carriers in port over Christmas so he can argue that without a higher debt ceiling from Congress we can’t afford to operate the navy, but no one on Pennsylvania Avenue has told me that. And, oracle that I am, I guarantee you they won’t say it. Ever. Still, I suspect that’s the reason they did it last time. And they won. Congress caved.”
“Can’t you finesse them?”
“How? If I don’t obey orders, they’ll fire me and get someone who will. You and I both know that.”
“If anything happens to those five carriers, there will be rejoicing in Beijing.”
“Tell me about it. And in Tehran and Damascus and Moscow and Benghazi and Pyongyang and a dozen other capitals around the globe.”
“I know you’re going to take every precaution.”
McKiernan nodded. “Every precaution anyone in the navy can dream up. All of them. Helicopters overhead day and night. Two attack subs submerged in Hampton Roads and two just outside the entrance to the bay. SEALs in the water around the ships. Armed fighters aloft. Boats containing sailors armed with Browning fifties patrolling twenty-four/seven. That area will be a quarantine zone for boats and a prohibited area for airplanes. We’ll shoot down any airplane that comes within ten miles of those ships. We did all that the last time, and nothing happened, knock on wood. Still, I’m going to sweat bullets until we get those task groups back to sea.”
Jake slapped his thighs and stood. “Thanks, Cart, for the briefing. The agency will do everything we can to keep you informed.”
“I know you will, Jake. I was going to call Mario, but after he drowned I figured you were probably up to your ass in alligators. You’ve saved me some sweat.”
They said their good-byes, and Admiral Cart McKiernan escorted Jake to the front door and locked it behind him. Grafton looked at his watch. It was a half hour until midnight.
He got in his car and pointed it toward Roslyn.
I was sitting in my car when I saw Grafton’s blue Honda Accord come up the street and turn into the parking garage. We didn’t put cameras in the garage — I didn’t even know if Grafton had an assigned parking space or just took whatever was available — but I planned to put Willie on it first thing in the morning. I had been eyeing that garage all evening. It was a perfect sniper’s perch.
I sat there in the car holding my breath until Grafton came out of the garage and walked across the street to his building. He used a keypad on the front door, opened it and went in.
I followed his progress to the elevator and, when he reached his floor, down the empty hallway to his front door. He walked as if he were tired, I thought, but at nearly midnight, I would have been surprised if he weren’t. He used the key and went in.
When the door to his pad was closed behind him, I started my car and headed home.
The next morning at seven I called Jake Grafton at home. I figured he was up and getting ready to go to Langley. He said he didn’t have an assigned parking place in the garage. Nobody did. He was curt, no doubt from not enough sleep. Then I called Willie Varner. I figured it would take a day to install cameras and rig up a battery-operated Wi-Fi and booster transmitter on the roof. I went to Langley, got the stuff and took it over to Willie.