Patrick McLanahan Collection #1 (88 page)

“But why are
we
using nukes, Yuri?”

“You know damned well, Joey,” Borodev replied. “It's a tactical decision, not a psychological one—we're doing a job, not trying to send a message. We're using nukes because the Kh-90s wouldn't have the destructive power if we put nonnuclear warheads on them. They wouldn't put a dent in any of the targets we're going after.” He looked at the pilot with an exasperated expression. “You
know
all this stuff, my friend. You certified this mission to the commanding general just three days ago, and he chose you to lead this gaggle specifically because you explained it all so well. Don't wuss out on me now,
zalupa.
”

“I'm not wussing out. I believe using nukes and biochem weapons
is
different from using other kinds of weapons, that's all.”

“You're a dipshit, Joey. What's going on? You get your girlfriend pregnant and now you dream of a perfect world with no fighting and no war? Wake up, pal.” He looked at his friend carefully. “You got her pregnant, didn't you?”

“Worse—I married her.”

“You jerk! You never listen to a thing I tell you!” Borodev said, slapping him hard on the shoulder. “Congratulations! When were you planning on telling the general?”

“I submitted the paperwork to him three days ago. He signed us off yesterday.”

“The great Josef Leborov, scourge of the gay bars—I mean, the
taverns
—missing in action because he has a wife and a rug rat now. I'm glad I lived to see the day.” He patted his friend on the shoulder. “Good man. If we make it, you have someone to go home to…and if you don't, your name carries on. Well done, Senior Captain. Now, can we please get back to fucking work?”

“Affirmative,” Leborov said. On intercom he reported, “Crew, all weapons have been visually checked and are ready, and we have visually ensured that our gunner is still with us. Station check.” Every crew
member did an oxygen check, checked his equipment, and reported back in order. “Very well. Naviguesser, position report?”

“Thirty-two minutes to the start-countermeasures point,” the navigator responded. The start-countermeasures point was the farthest point from which American radar planes based at Eielson Air Force Base in Fairbanks, Alaska, could detect them. So far their intelligence had not reported any airborne, but Leborov knew that could change at any time, and without warning. “Approximately three hours to the launch point.”

“Thank you,” Leborov said. Borodev looked at him, and he realized that his voice sounded a little high-pitched and squeaky, a combination of his heavy breathing from crawling around almost the entire length of the plane and from the realization that time was passing quickly and the action was going to start very, very soon. He flashed his friend their mutual “okay” signal, ordered a crew-compartment and oxygen check, then decided to finish off his last box lunch now, before things started getting hairy.

A few hours later

I
f Ayou don't mind my saying so—and I don't care if you do or not—you all sound like a bunch of bickering, whining children,” Secretary of Defense Robert Goff said, slumping wearily in his seat. He had just received a rundown on the current emergency from the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the chief of staff of the Air Force, the commander of Air Combat Command, the commander of Air Intelligence Agency, and finally Brigadier General Patrick McLanahan—and his head really hurt now. The emergency meeting was called because of the alert sent by the North American Aerospace Defense Command, sent directly to the chief of operations in the secretary of defense's office.

When the warning from NORAD sounded, the White House was instantly put on alert, and the complex mechanisms put in motion to evacuate the president and other senior members of government. Per the plan, the president, the secretary of defense, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs and any of the service chiefs in close proximity, and any available members of the congressional leadership would get to Andrews
Air Force Base as quickly as possible and board an Air Force E-4B aircraft known as the National Airborne Operations Center. The E-4's extensive communications suite allowed anyone on board to communicate instantly with virtually anyone anywhere on planet Earth. If the president was traveling, as he was now, he would take airborne one of the two VC-25 “flying White House” aircraft known as Air Force One and communicate with military commanders from there.

If they couldn't make it to Andrews, key government leaders would be evacuated immediately to an “undisclosed location,” which almost everyone in Washington knew to be the Mount Weather Special Facility, code-named “High Point,” the 434-acre mountain base near Berryville, West Virginia, operated by the Federal Emergency Management Agency to implement the National Continuity of Government Plan. From the High Point underground-bunker complex, the A-list government and military leaders holed up there had a direct secure videoconference link with the White House Situation Room, Air Force One, the Pentagon, the Navy's E-6B National Command Post, and the Air Force's E-4 National Airborne Operations Center—anywhere the president or the strategic warfighting commanders were likely to be in an emergency. But neither the president nor anyone in his cabinet would evacuate Washington unless absolutely necessary, and it was up to Secretary of Defense Robert Goff and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Richard Venti to give the president their recommendation.

After receiving a fast status briefing from Venti—and a slightly more detailed briefing from the commander of NORAD, General Randall Shepard—Goff immediately called the White House operations staff and gave them a “no imminent threat” message. It was not an easy message to send: If he made a wrong decision, it could mean the avoidable loss of hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives, including those in the highest levels of government. Goff was usually ebullient, cheerful, and smiling, but when he was angry, his expression and features turned dark, bordering on wide-eyed maniacal. The Joint Chiefs chairman, Air Force General Richard Venti, had not seen the secretary with such an evil visage in quite some time.

Naturally, the person responsible for giving him this expression was the same person that caused him to have it the
last
time: Patrick McLanahan.

“I find plenty of fault to go around here,” Goff went on, “but let's start with the main instigator of this mess. General McLanahan, to say
you overstepped the bounds of your authority is being far too generous. It's as if you have never heard of a chain of command, a direct order, or a commanding officer. Your actions in this entire episode are a disgrace to your uniform, and I think it's about time we investigate whether or not you should be
wearing
an American military uniform.

“However, just because we don't like the person who pulled the fire alarm doesn't mean we can ignore the smell,” Goff went on. “General Houser, I understand and concur that you have plenty of reason to be angry at this gross contravention of authority and chain of command. I'm not an analyst, but I tend to agree with your opinion that we don't have enough information to make an accurate assessment. However, your recommendation that we do
nothing
is astounding to me. If it were any other person giving you this information, I think you'd do more, but because the information came from McLanahan, you recommended no action.” Goff turned to General Venti. “General? Recommendations?”

“Sir, I know how everyone feels about General McLanahan, but I happen to think the man is a true professional and that his analysis is timely and accurate,” Venti said. “If he thinks there is a danger out there, we should do something about it. I recommend that we establish an airborne-radar and fighter patrol over northern Alaska immediately while we fully activate the North Warning System. General Muskoka?”

“The Third Wing from Elmendorf provides AWACS radar coverage for northern Alaska,” Thomas Muskoka, commander of Air Combat Command, responded from his headquarters at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia via a secure video teleconference link. “The Three-fifty-fourth Fighter Wing from Eielson provides F-16 alert fighter patrols, backed up with alert F-15s from Elmendorf—fifteen to twenty minutes away, max. This can be set up in a matter of minutes.

“Over the rest of the northern U.S., we deploy AWACS radar aircraft from Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma over central Canada, deploy Air National Guard air-defense fighters from Fresno and Klamath Falls to northern bases, and reconfigure other Air National Guard fighters from St. Louis, South Dakota, North Dakota, Montana, Colorado, Michigan, Iowa, and Minnesota for air-defense duties. The AWACS planes can be deployed within a few hours. Reconfiguring the fighters will…take some time.”

The shock on Goff's face was obvious to everyone, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “How long, General?” he asked.

“The Fresno and Klamath Falls fighters on ready alert can launch
within a few minutes,” Muskoka said. “If we can arrange tanker support, which is almost a certainty, we can put them on airborne alert, armed and ready for action.” He spread his hands resignedly. “The other aircraft were never meant to be alert aircraft, but respond only to general mobilization and—”

“How
long,
General?”

Muskoka shrugged. “Seventy-two hours at the earliest, sir,” he responded. Goff's lips parted in surprise. Muskoka added quickly, “Fresno and Klamath Falls should be able to launch perhaps a half dozen aircraft, F-15s and F-16s, within a few minutes. They'll have to do a unit recall to get more aircraft, but with regular ongoing training sorties, we should have another half dozen aircraft ready to go in an hour or two. If you need more than a dozen fighters right
now,
sir, I'd say we're in deep shit.”

“I just never dreamed…I mean, I never thought it took so long for us to get fighters in the air, especially after September eleventh,” Goff said.

“Sir, we can get a fighter in the air with guns to cover one hundred percent of the U.S. that'll look real tough and pretty for CNN,” Muskoka explained, “but launching a fighter to chase down a Cessna 182 who makes a wrong turn and flies over the White House is a lot different from chasing down a Russian bomber or a cruise missile—doing
real
air-defense work.” The frustration on Muskoka's face was obvious. “Besides, I want to know who's going to pay for all this—it sure as hell shouldn't come out of
my
budget!—and mostly I want to know why we're putting so much stock in McLanahan's analysis. He's a bomber guy, not an intel weenie, for Christ's sake!”

“As you
were,
General,” Venti warned.

“Excuse me, sir, but you're talking about putting a half dozen air-defense fighters on airborne alert over Canada, plus recalling a bunch more—on
McLanahan's
say-so? With all due respect, sir, I'd prefer a little more reliable confirmation myself.”

“You've got all the confirmation you need, General,” Venti said. He looked at Goff, who nodded and made an entry into an electronic notebook. “Make it happen.”

“Roger, sir,” Muskoka said, and he could be seen in the videoconference screen lifting a phone to his ear and giving the orders.

“General Shepard, what's the status of your sensors and radars?”

“Operational and ready to respond, sir.” U.S. Air Force General
Randall Shepard was the commander of the North American Aerospace Defense Command, in charge of monitoring and defending against a missile or bomber attack on North America; he was also “dual-hatted” as the commander of U.S. Northern Command, in charge of defending against military or terrorist attacks on the United States. “The long-range radars of the North Warning System are currently operational, with a few maintenance exceptions, which should not impact the system's effectiveness. The long-range radars have a range in excess of two hundred miles, depending on terrain and atmospheric conditions. The short-range radars can be activated within a relatively brief period of time, depending on local conditions.

“All NORAD-gained fighter-interceptor units are fully operational: four F-16Cs on alert at Eielson, four F-15Cs at Elmendorf, and four CF-18s on alert at Cold Lake, Alberta, Canada—plus the Klamath Falls and Fresno units,” Shepard went on. “I believe each wing can generate one or two more aircraft in a matter of hours, and they can generate their entire force in about two days.”

“Only twelve fighters available
for all of western North America?
” Goff asked incredulously.

“Sixteen, including the continental U.S. fighters,” Shepard said. “We're at full authorized manning, sir. We have just enough funding to field the units we have out there right now. The southern-U.S. and drug-interdiction duties get all the funding, and have for many years.” He looked at Patrick McLanahan's image on the video teleconference screen and added, “I still find it hard to believe we're under a Russian bomber threat, but be that as it may, we can respond to any threat.”

“What about OTH-B?” Goff asked.

Shepard at first appeared to be confused, then pained, before replying, ‘Sir, I think the staff or General McLanahan is in possession of outdated information. We operate only one OTH-B array, out of Bangor, Maine, which is dedicated only to atmospheric sampling and experiments as directed by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration or on request by the Department of Homeland Security—which, by the way, has never put in a request to use it. The West Coast OTH-B system is in warm storage, and the Alaskan system was canceled about fourteen years ago and was never even completed.”