“This morning Baghdad officially announced a joint training exercise starting next Saturday, called Shield of Islam. It’s been scheduled for some time.”
“Not good,” Pontowski said. “Who are they in bed with?”
“Their allies? The usual suspects.”
Pontowski started to make connections. “No country in its right mind is going to take us on militarily unless they’re suicidal.” Then he saw it. “Or they have one hell of a friend backing them up.”
“Like Russia,” Mazie added.
“I’m thinking China.”
“In either case,” Mazie assured him, “we can handle it. The president is telling the voters we have the best and most powerful military in the world.”
“That’s a true statement. But we’ve been focused on the war against terrorism and we’re out of balance. In the more conventional forces, our levels of readiness are down to fifty, sixty percent. Also, we have severe airlift and sealift problems. What happens if we have to respond quickly, say, in a matter of days and not months, on a massive scale to a conventional MTW?” An MTW was a major-theater war, much like the Gulf War of 1991. “Even worse, what if we have to fight two MTWs at once? We’re going to be hard-pressed to fight one, much less two.”
“We don’t have to worry about that,” Mazie told him. “Maybe an MTW in the Middle East with the UIF, but with China? Where? The Chinese can make life difficult for us, but they don’t have the capability to project their power much beyond their borders. Besides, they would pay a heavy economic price. North Korea? Not as long as South Korea is itching for a fight.”
“I hope you’re right. But I can see us getting kicked around a bit if we’re not careful.”
Mazie changed the subject. “Here comes your future daughter-in-law.”
Pontowski followed her gaze and saw the president’s mother and daughter walking toward them. He grinned. “I wonder how Zack feels about that?”
“I don’t think he’s going to have a choice in the matter,” Mazie replied.
Pontowski stood and gave the seventy-one-year-old Maura a hug. “Me next,” Sarah demanded. Pontowski gave her a hug, surprised at how she was filling out. “Tell Zack to answer my e-mail,” she said.
“Well,” Maura said to Pontowski, “Maddy will be delighted to see you here.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you started sleeping together?” Sarah asked.
“Sarah!” Maura scolded.
Pontowski rubbed his chin. “Not tonight. I haven’t shaved and need a shower.”
“I’m being serious,” Sarah said.
By the time Marine One landed on the helipad with the president aboard late Sunday afternoon, all the signs of a building crisis were in place. Chief of Staff Parrish was huddled with Mazie and a Navy vice admiral in the Camp David communications center while two brigadier generals — one from the Army, the other from the Air Force — waited in the hall. Pontowski was sure of it when a second helicopter arrived and perched on the helipad, its crew also standing by for a quick launch. To his way of thinking, what else would cause her to return unannounced to the capital during the height of a campaign? And her arrival at Camp David would set off no alarms.
Later that same evening they found some time to be alone. Maddy cuddled against his shoulder as she gazed wistfully into the fire crackling in the stone fireplace. “I do love this place,” she murmured.
“It is beautiful,” Pontowski allowed. He waited, sensing she wanted to have a serious talk.
“Mazie talked to you,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Pontowski gave a little nod. “Do you know a General Bernie Butler?”
“I’ve heard of him. The Boys in the Basement. He’s got a good track record, lots of credibility.”
“He’s saying the UIF is going to attack Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. The CIA gives it a lower probability. Mazie’s on the fence.” A discreet knock at the door caught their attention, and Maddy moved away. “Come,” she said.
The Air Force brigadier entered the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Madam President. The UIF military command in Baghdad has implemented a communications blackout in conjunction with their joint exercise.”
“Effective when?” Pontowski asked.
“As of twenty minutes ago,” the brigadier said.
Pontowski shook his head. “A communications blackout before the start of a major exercise is not business as usual.” He checked his watch and ran the numbers. “It’s four o’clock Monday morning over there. Sunrise is when?”
“In an hour and forty minutes,” the brigadier replied.
“Madam President,” Pontowski said, “I believe you need to return to the White House.”
Maddy stood and walked to the fireplace. A log flared, and sparks rose up the chimney. “I didn’t want this,” she said.
“No sane person does,” Pontowski told her.
Maddy gave a little nod, her lips compressed tightly. She picked up the phone. “Please tell Mr. Parrish that I’m returning to the White House.” She turned to Pontowski. “Would you mind staying here with Maura and Sarah?”
“Not at all,” he answered, wondering why.
Secretary of State Serick joined the Executive Committee gathered in the Situation Room. He took his seat and did a head count: Mazie, Sam Kennett, the DCI, General Wilding, and Bernie Butler were all there. The door opened, and Secretary of Defense Robert Merritt entered. “Well?” Merritt demanded.
Serick shot him a contemptuous look. The secretary of defense was Leland’s boy, appointed only to appease the senator, who demanded a presence in the administration in return for political peace. “The National Intelligence Officer for Warning has declared a WATCHCON I for the Persian Gulf,” Serick said. “The president is on her way and should be here any moment.” They waited in silence, each drawn into his or her own personal world of doubts, fears, and concerns about what the next few days would bring.
The president entered. “Thank you for all responding so quickly,” she said. She took her seat opposite the big computer monitor. The DCI stood as the screen scrolled to a map of the Arabian Peninsula. He pointed to the Iraqi-Saudi border 135 miles west of Kuwait. “The combined UIF ground-force strength has reached corps levels in this area. The necessary logistics infrastructure is in place and fully functional. These forces could move in a southerly direction at any time with no warning.”
“It looks like a good place to hold an exercise,” Vice President Kennett said. “And it is a fair distance from the oil fields.”
Merritt coughed. “There’s nothing between them and Riyadh except some sand dunes.” Silence.
General Wilding finally spoke. “King Khalid Military City is in their way, which we have been quietly reinforcing.”
“What’s the latest satellite coverage?” the president asked.
The DCI spoke into his intercom, and a heavy cloud cover appeared on the screen. He listened for a moment before speaking. “We are experiencing a most unusual weather pattern for this time of year.”
“Coincidence?” Butler said in a low voice.
“And what happened with that new Keyhole satellite with the wide-aperture synthetic radar?” Serick asked. “Can’t it penetrate the cloud deck?”
“Indeed it can,” the DCI replied. “But it’s currently positioned to monitor China’s nuclear tests. Unfortunately, it’s low on fuel, which the National Reconnaissance Office is reluctant to use until the shuttle resupplies it later this month.”
“Coincidence?” Butler repeated, a shade louder.
“It would be nice to know what is going on under those clouds,” Turner said.