Ralph Peters (65 page)

"
Akiro,
"
Noburu said indulgently,
"
you're thinking logically.
"
He waved his hand at the curtained window.
"
But the people out there ... I'm afraid they have no respect for logic.
"

"
It is an impossible situation,
"
Akiro said primly. Noburu nodded, frumping his chin.
"
I agree.
"

"
We have treaties
...
"

"
Yes. Treaties.
"

"
They will have to honor their treaties, our agreements.
"

"
Of course,
"
Noburu said.

"
They cannot betray us.
"

"
They believe,
"
Noburu said,
"
that we have betrayed them. That what the Americans did on the battlefield was our fault. When things go wrong, they don't blame their enemies, they blame their allies. It's simply the way their minds work.
"

"
That's inconceivable.
"

"
Yes,
"
Noburu agreed.

"
They
must
honor the agreements.
"

Noburu smiled gently at the younger man.

"
Or they will have to be taught a lesson,
"
Akiro concluded.

Noburu turned toward the shrouded window and raised his hands as if conducting the choir out in the dark streets.
"
Listen to them,
"
he whispered. The chanting rose and fell, rose and fell. Ceaselessly.
"
Listen, Akiro, and tell me what you hear.
"

The two men listened from their different worlds. Then Akiro said:

"
I hear the sound of a mob.
"

Noburu listened a moment longer.

"
No,
"
he told the younger man.
"
That is the voice of death.
"

President Waters had just eaten a cheeseburger, and a damned big one. He was tired of taking advice, whether it came from the secretary of state or from the First Lady. Expert advice had gotten them all into this mess, and he did not trust the advice of those same experts to get the United States back out. He did not yet know exactly what he was going to do. But he knew he was going to make up his own mind this time.

"
The President
,
"
a voice announced.

Everyone in the room jumped to their feet as Waters strode in. A quick glance assured the President that the key players were on hand: the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, his face a worn-out hound-dog mask, and the secretary of state, who looked like a Harvard man in his dotage—which happened to be exactly what he was. They were all there, down to that overbred cardsharp Bouquette and his plain-Jane sidekick.

"
Sit down. Everybody. Please sit down. I know you're all tired.
"

"
We're ready when you are, Mr. President, the national security adviser said. It was almost the only thing the man had uttered since the debacle at Orsk had become known. He had been a strong proponent of the expedition in the beginning, and now he was clearly rethinking his position.

Waters sat down, swishing back a last ghost of flavor with the tip of his tongue. The cheeseburger had been a lascivious thing, thick and studded with bits of onion, topped with blue cheese and a shower of catsup. It had been, by God, an American meal, and Waters had devoured it proudly. He had almost fallen into the usual routine of reminding the chef not to let slip his transgressions to his wife. Then he decided to blow it off. What the hell. If the President of the United States could send his armed forces off to battle, he could damn well treat himself to a cheeseburger without congressional authorization. Blood pressure and cholesterol be damned too. If this unholy mess in the Soviet Union didn't drop him in his
tracks, he doubted he would topple over at the ingestion of a cheeseburger. He only regretted that he had not had the audacity to have the chef cook up some french fries, as well.

"
Get me Colonel Taylor,
"
Waters demanded.

"
Sir, he's standing by,
"
the communications officer said.
"
Good.
"
He turned briefly to Bouquette.
"
Cliff, do you have anything further on that demonstration or whatever it is down by the Japanese headquarters?
"

Bouquette rocketed to his feet.
"
Nothing new on the Baku situation, sir. All we have is the imagery, and from the appearance of things, I'd have to stand by our original assessment that it's an anti-American thing, whipped up by the Japanese and the Islamic Government of Azerbaijan. A response to the commitment of American forces, a demonstration of solidarity. You know how the Islamic types love to parade around the streets. And anti-Americanism is in their blood.
"

Taylor's face flashed onto the communications screen. The collar of his uniform looked rumpled and stained, and, despite his facial scarring, the weary lines and dark circles were clear for all to see. But the eyes were alert.

"
Good afternoon, Colonel Taylor—what time of day is it where you are now?
"

"
Night, Mr. President.
"

"
Yes. That's right. You're ahead of us.
"

Waters paused, allowing himself time to consider Taylor. Could this man be trusted? When so many others had failed him? After one of Taylor's own subordinates had accused him of dereliction of duty and impossibly bad judgment? At any other time, Waters would have dismissed such a questionable character out of hand. But he was desperate now.

"
Colonel Taylor,
"
Waters said,
"
I've had a look at the concept of operations you sent us. The chairman has done his best to explain to me what it means. But I'd like to hear it in your own words. Explain it to me the way you explained that weapons system of yours. Simple words for a simple man.
"

Taylor's eyebrows edged into his scarred forehead.
"
Well, Mr. President, to begin with, I can't take credit for
it. While I was out with my regiment today, an old acquaintance of mine was doing some thinking for me. The concept for this operation was developed by Colonel Williams of the Tenth Cavalry, based on an intelligence breakthrough one of his young officers came up with yesterday.
"

Out of the corner of his eye, Waters caught Bouquette grimacing. Have to return to that, Waters thought. Then he shifted his full attention back to Taylor.

"
Mr. President,
"
Taylor continued,
"
I want to be as honest with you as I can be. This is a long shot. Only the potential results make it worth attempting.
"
Taylor briefly broke eye contact, and Waters wondered to what extent this Army officer doubted himself and his capabilities at this point.

"
It all started,
"
Taylor said,
"
with a damned good piece of luck. The Japanese battlefield control computers have been considered impregnable. But a young warrant officer from the Tenth, working with his Soviet counterpart, cracked a key component the Russians had recovered from a downed Japanese control bird. I understand that you've been briefed on the matter, but let me explain it from the battlefield perspective. Using the knowledge we've already derived from this computer 'brain,' we've been able to electronically transliterate various offensive computer programs into the software alphabet that the Japanese computers will accept. Most importantly, we now have the means to enter anything we want into the Japanese system, and to do it very quickly. Of course, the Japanese have no idea about any of this, as far as we know. If we can just get to one of their main terminals before they realize they've been compromised, we could deliver a mortal blow to their system.
"
Taylor was clearly excited by the concept, and the building fire in his voice was the only real enthusiasm the President had encountered for hours.

"
The possibilities are incredible,
"
the colonel continued.
"
We can direct their system to make fatal errors. Not only can we completely disorient the enemy's control system, we can direct his weapons to attack each other. We can direct communications nodes to commit electronic suicide. We can offset every grid and coordinate in his automated mapping system. And we can actually conjure up false worlds for enemy commanders. They'll be sitting at their monitors, imagining that they're watching the battle, when in fact everything portrayed will be an illusion. And we'll be the master magicians. At the very least, we'll destroy their faith in their electronics. We'll be altering not just the parameters of the system, but the perception of its operators.
"
Taylor looked into the President's eyes from half a world away.
"
But the most beautiful part is actually the simplest. Every Japanese military system has a self-destruct mechanism built into it. It's ostensibly to prevent the gear from falling into enemy hands—but it also functions as a safeguard, in case, say, the Iranians turned against them—
"

"
Never happen,
"
Bouquette muttered audibly.

"
—then the Japanese could simply send out electronic signals to every system in Iranian hands, ordering the machines to self-destruct. The component the Russians captured has shown us how it's done. And it's easy. We may even be able to neutralize these new weapons.
"

"
The Scramblers,
"
Waters said.

"
Yes, sir. The Scramblers.
"
Taylor twisted up the side of his mouth, a half-leer in a dead face.
"
Unfortunately, it can only be done through a Japanese master control computer. That's the background. Here's the plan. I intend to take my command ship and a single troop of five M-l00s—manned by volunteers—on a raid against the Japanese theater headquarters at Baku. We will employ all of our deception systems going in, and, as we close, we'll jam everything in the area of operations. The Tenth Cav will be able to help us out with that. Our approach to the target will also be covered by a larger scale deception operation, as the rest of my regiment pulls out to the north. My raiding party will disappear in the noise of events. And we'll move fast. We won't be going in blind, either. The Soviets are sending me an officer who knows the layout of the Baku headquarters complex.
"

Taylor paused, and the President sensed that the man was searching through a tired brain for any key factors he might have omitted.

"
We're banking on Japanese reluctance to destroy their computer system, no matter what happens,
"
Taylor con
tinued.
"
Since they don't know we've broken their code, they'll assume we couldn't access the system even if we had a year to take it apart and play with the components. Again, this system is considered to be absolutely impregnable, a sort of futuristic fortress. We'll count on going in very fast, loading in our programs, and getting out of there.
"
Taylor stared hard at the President.
"
I want to do it tomorrow.
"

Waters nodded noncommittally.

"
It's a long shot,
"
Taylor admitted.
"
We'll have no time for rehearsals. We'll have to refuel once on the way in, and the Soviets will have to help us out on that. We won't be able to afford significant casualties—it's going to be a bare-bones operation. And we'll be counting on Japanese overconfidence so that they won't destroy the control computer and stop us in our tracks. Then, coming back out, we'll be vulnerable as hell—it appears that the Japanese can detect the M-100's signature from the rear hemisphere. Mr. President, I frankly cannot give you odds on the outcome. I'd just be guessing. We may fail. But . . . as an American soldier . . . I would be ashamed not to try.
"
The layer of hard confidence dissolved from Taylor's features, and he simply looked like a vulnerable and very tired man.
"
Mr. President, we beat them today. We destroyed their finest forward-deployed systems. Their central Asian front is in a state of collapse.
"
Taylor was obviously fumbling for the words to explain his view of the world.
"
The only thing that's holding them together now is the success of this new weapon.
"

"
The Scramblers,
"
Waters said, retasting the word.
"
Yes, sir. Otherwise, we've got them licked. You see, sir, in war ... the loser is often simply the first guy to quit. Time and again, commanders have assumed that they've been defeated when, in fact, they were in far better condition than their enemies. We
know
how badly we've been hurt. But it's always harder to gain an accurate perception of the true state of the enemy.
"
Taylor's eyes burned and begged across the miles.
"
Mr. President, just give us a chance. Let's not quit. Try to remember what it was like for our country after the African intervention, when everything seemed like it was coming apart. It's been
a long, hard road back. But we're almost there. Let's not quit while there's still a chance.
"