“Pearman?” Congreve said. “Is he Bermudian?”
“Sixteenth generation. Why?”
“Had Dick and Jeanne for tea last week. Lovely couple. Did you know he’s the All-England croquet champion, Sir David?”
Hawke smiled at all this benign gentility and turned his attention to the faded yacht burgees hanging round the room. He’d once invited Ambrose to a croquet match at Hawkesmoor and Congreve, who loved only golf, had replied, “Croquet? Do you think I’m a barbarian?”
Congreve and Hawke got their drinks and followed C outside into the bright sunshine, headed toward the club docks.
When the three men were comfortably seated at the semicircular banquette on Mohican’s lovely stern, C looked at both of them while stirring his soup. Luncheon had been served, chilled cucumber soup and a lovely piece of Scottish salmon.
Trulove said, “First, I’m extremely grateful to both of you for agreeing to this scheme. I predict Red Banner will one day prove critical in our dealings with this former foe, now reinvigorated.”
“Alex and I are deeply gratified by your confidence in us,” Ambrose said.
“Indeed, sir,” Hawke said. “I’ve been reading the dossiers Miss Guinness provided. I think your assessment of a renewed Russian threat to her neighbors is well founded. We’d both appreciate some sense of how you see Red Banner coming together to combat it.”
“Yes,” C said, forming a temple with his fingertips and resting his prominent chin on it. This was, of course, his subject, the one true love of his life, and he warmed to it quickly and with enthusiasm.
“First things first, lads. Let’s touch on the status of our adversary for a moment. Russia is, of course, our old enemy, and from all appearances, she still regards us as such. It will no doubt come as a shock to you to learn that the firm’s recent intelligence indicates Russia is again contemplating some future war with the United States and NATO. We know this because we have intercepted her new military doctrine, replacing the one published in 2000. Doctrines, as you both well know, let military commanders know what they should be preparing for.”
“Old habits die hard,” Hawke said.
“Yes. Russia clearly still sees herself and her former client states as under siege by the U.S. and NATO and a target for domination by the West. This is the result of seven decades of Communist insecurity and paranoia regarding the West. When East European nations began joining NATO and the European Union, well, this got the Russians extremely peeved. They liked their old borders. My guess is they’d like to have them back.”
“Understandable,” Hawke said. “Were I in their shoes, I might feel exactly the same way.”
“Fair enough. At any rate, the Kremlin fired off all manner of nastygrams and sent them westward. They were not happy about losing the Cold War, Alex, and they are still clearly nervous about aggression from Western Europe, especially Germany and France, both of which have invaded Russia in the past two centuries.”
“Germany, I understand,” Hawke said with a wry smile, “but France?”
“The French recently invaded Oman at the behest of the Chinese, as you should remember, Alex.”
“I can understand Russia’s residual anger at having lost the Cold War,” Congreve said, “but this level of paranoia is perplexing, if not downright ludicrous.”
“It is, indeed, from a Western perspective. But it’s our job to understand what makes this new Rostov regime tick, and that will be a big part of Red Banner’s mission.”
“Sir David,” Alex said, leaning forward, “how do you envision Red Banner from an organizational point of view?”
“Ah, that will be your primary responsibility, Alex. I myself see Red Banner, or RB, as a straightforward OPINTEL organization. Operations, supported by intelligence. Basically, here on Bermuda, a real-time watch floor and support organization. One that will provide instant information and support during covert operations vis-à-vis the Russians.”
“Similar structure to America’s NSA for SIGINT support to OPS?” Alex said, slipping easily into the jargon he so abhorred but felt obligated to use in these situations.
Sir David smiled. “Exactly. We want to create a highly compartmental group within MI-6, outside of SIS, but you’ll be using all of their intelligence sources, as well as additional people from our other intel organizations. Players normally associated with a compartmented cell will include ops, intel, comms, logistics, and specialized assistance from respective areas depending on specific mission.”
“Sounds good, sir,” Hawke said. “And how do you see the U.S. component’s involvement?”
“I’ve set up a meeting in Washington for you to discuss that issue precisely. It’s next week, Friday, to be exact. I’ve arranged military transport for you to and from Washington. But briefly, I see the CIA component as supplementing and integrating within Red Banner. You might well decide to incorporate special operations from other coalition military organizations, Joint Special Operation Command, et cetera. Field intelligence units you’ve worked with previously, Alex, Centra Spike, Torn Victor, and Grey Fox.”
“Good,” Alex said, warming to the task. He was certainly not going to want for resources.
“Jolly good, every bit of it,” Congreve said. “But tell me, Sir David, what will be Red Banner’s primary focus?”
“It could well change, of course, depending on events. But if you ask me for an answer today, I would say this. Terrorism has changed how we look at military threats forever. Thus, we won’t be concerning ourselves with, say, disarmament infringements, Russian warhead counts. No, we’ll be looking at threats to our food and water supplies. Nuclear reactors. Harbor attacks and biological outbreaks, electronic attacks and EMP. And, of course, the Butterfly Effect.”
“A new one on me, sir,” Hawke said.
Congreve looked at Sir David. “May I?”
“Please, Ambrose.”
“The Butterfly Effect, Alex, is a phrase that encapsulates the more technical notion of sensitive dependence on initial conditions in theory. Small variations of the initial condition of a nonlinear dynamical system, say, may produce huge variations in the long-term behavior of the system. Do you follow me?”
Hawke smiled at Ambrose’s typical pyrotechnic display of scientific erudition and said, “A ball placed at the crest of a hill might roll into any of several valleys depending on slight differences in initial position. Right?”
Trulove chuckled and said, “Well said, Alex. I guessed I had the right chaps for the job, and I was right.”
Hawke said, “Sir, as for Red Banner’s counterterrorism operations, I presume our intel analysis will include work from the cybercafé, cutouts, and runners. We’ll no doubt get hints and sniffs from various cooperating U.S. organizations as well, their homeland defense, immigration, and so on. Correct?”
“Right. Over time, we’ll be piecing the puzzles together using multi-intel disciplines such as imagery, UAV, communications intercepts, field agents, and the like. Your American partners will be using all of your favorite three-letter organizations, CIA, DIA, NGA, and NSA.”
“So,” Ambrose said, pushing his plate away and getting his pipe going, “it would seem the bad old days are back. Global ideological confrontation, proxy wars, arms races, and, last but not least, mutually assured destruction.”
“Cold War Two,” Hawke said, eyeing both men.
“One could almost wish, Alex,” C said, returning Hawke’s gaze. “What we had in the first Cold War was a certain cozy equilibrium based on mutual fear of mutual destruction. In those days, one party was afraid to take that extra step without first consulting the other. It was indeed a fragile peace and certainly a frightening one. But looking at those years from today’s vantage point, I’d say it was reliable enough. And I would also add that today, the peace between East and West is not looking nearly so reliable. The New Russia. That’s the new threat and we seem to have arrived at the hora decima.”