"They're desperate," the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said. "But I still don't think we should trust them too far. Once they get back on their feet, they'll be back at our throats."
"If they get back on their feet," the secretary of state said "They've been struggling to do just that for over a generation. You're talking about a broken, ruined country, hanging on for dear life."
"Between nations," the national security adviser said, "trust is merely a matter of shared interests. If the Soviets are currently behaving toward us in a trustworthy manner, then it's because it's to their advantage to do so. When such conduct ceases to be advantageous, I can assure you that it will stop." The national security adviser rarely spoke, but when he did it was in a sharp, lucid, tutorial voice. He was the architect behind the President's foreign policy views, and Waters had come to depend on him to an uncomfortable extent. "Today, the United States shares the Soviet Union's interest in keeping the Japanese out of Siberia. Tomorrow, the Soviets may begin asking themselves why they allowed us into Siberia. For I remind you, gentlemen, that our assistance to the Soviet state is not intended to preserve that state for its own sake, but, rather, to maintain a regional balance of power. And… we are not there to help the Soviets achieve victory, but to prevent a Soviet defeat. The opening of Siberia to the world economy is inevitable. We just have to ensure that the United States has equal, or, ideally, preferred access to Siberian resources, and that the Japanese access is on the restrictive, disadvantageous terms possible. We need to remain honest with ourselves, to keep our goals clear. Our fundamental purpose is not to aid the Soviets, but to deny the Japanese."
"The little buggers still ought to be grateful, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs said.
"Mr. President, if I may…" Bouquette said.
"Go ahead, Cliff."
"There is one area of concern with the Soviets, one matter — and we're not sure of its relative importance — in which they don't appear to be telling us everything they know. Now, this is all rather nebulous… but we've picked up a reference in high-level Soviet military traffic to something called a Scrambler. Now, in the context of the message, it appeared that this Scrambler was some kind of Japanese operation or system. At any rate, the Soviets seemed very, very worried about it."
"Why don't we just ask them what the hell it is?" the chairman of the Joint Chiefs asked.
Bouquette spread his hands out at waist level, as though holding an invisible beachball. "If we did, we'd have to tell them we were reading their communications on the most secure system they've got. We can't afford to do that. For a number of reasons. As you all realize."
"Well," the chairman continued, "with the only fully modernized outfit in the United States Army about to enter combat, I'd like to know exactly what we might be getting into."
"Oh, I think we're all right. At least for the present," Bouquette went on. "I want to show you the text of an intercept we took off the Japanese earlier today. Intriguing coincidence. They were having trouble with their system, and we got some good take. By dumb luck. They didn't realize how badly the signal was bleeding, and with computer enhancement and advanced decryption, we got about an hour and a half's worth of traffic." Bouquette looked confidently about the room, setting the rhythm at last. "Now, this was General Noburu Kabata's private line back to Tokyo. You all recall that General Kabata is the senior Japanese officer on the ground out there. His command post is in Baku. Supposedly, of course, he's just a contract employee working for the Islamic Union. But that's merely a nicety. In fact, Kabata is running the whole show. Well, we found out that he's not entirely pleased with his Arab and Iranian charges — to say nothing of the rebel forces in Soviet Central Asia. But, then, you know the Japanese. They hate disorder. And Kabata's got a disorderly crew on his hands. But look at this…" He pointed to the nearest monitor. A bright yellow text showed on a black background:
TokGenSta/ExtDiv: Tokuru wants to know what you've decided on the other matter.
JaCom/CentAs: I have no need of it at present Everything is going well, and, in my personal opinion, the Scrambler is needlessly provocative.
TokGenSta/ExtDiv: But Tokuru wants to be certain that the Scrambler is ready. Should it be needed.
JaCom/CentAs: Of course, it's ready. But we will not need it
"Now, gentlemen," Bouquette said, "the first station is the voice of the Japanese General Staff's External Division in Tokyo. The respondent from the Japanese Command in Central Asia — something of a misnomer, since the actual location is Baku, on the western shore of the Caspian Sea — is none other than General Kabata himself."
"That's all well and good, Cliff," the secretary of defense said, "but what does it tell us? That's raw intelligence, not finished product."
Bouquette shrugged. "Unfortunately, it's all we've got. Of course, we've made this Scrambler a top collection priority. But, at least this intercept seems to indicate that whatever it is, it's not an immediate concern."
President Waters was not convinced. Here was yet another unexpected element in a situation the complexity of which he already found unnerving. He looked to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs for reassurance yet again. The chairman had a tough old-soldier quality that had acquired new appeal for Waters as of late. But the chairman was already speaking.
"Now, goddamnit, you intel guys had better find out just what's going on over there. We can't play guessing games when the nation's premier military formation is about to go into battle. You assured us that, and I quote, 'We have the most complete picture of the battlefield of any army in history.' " The chairman tapped his pen on the tabletop.
"And we do," Bouquette said. "This is only one single element. When the Seventh Cavalry enters combat, their on-board computers will even know how much fuel the enemy has in his tanks—"
"Mr. President?" the communications officer spoke up from the bank of consoles at the back of the room. "I've got Colonel Taylor, the Seventh Cavalry commander, coming in. He's back from his meeting with the Soviets. You said you wanted to talk to him when he returned, sir."
Taylor? Oh, yes, President Waters remembered, the colonel with the Halloween face. He had forgotten exactly what it was he wanted to talk to the man about. More reassurances. Are you ready? Really? You aren't going to let me down, are you? Waters could not explain it in so many words, but, in their brief exchanges, he had found this fright-mask colonel, with his blunt answers, far more reassuring than any of the Bouquettes of the world.