Charles Taylor - Show of Force

Carter looked up from his desk as Secretary Jasperson quietly let himself into the office, unannounced. He stood up in greeting but was immediately motioned back into his chair. "Relax, Sam. Like I said before, we're going to be together for a while, so we might as well get used to it." He looked briefly around the large office, "You have a better communications system here, and I know you want to be here when you reestablish contact with Admiral Charles, so I'm having my phone hookup to Moscow transferred here." He sprawled in an easy chair, pointed at the floor, and smiled at Carter, "and I'm going to make myself at home."

"Fine, Tom. I just ordered us something to eat. I'm afraid it may take as long as thirty-six hours to contact David, maybe less if the experts can try something they've only been experimenting with up to now. But I'm told we can try out a onetime code if you can raise the.embassy yourself."

"We'll give it the old college try." He smiled at Carter for a moment, then straightened up from his slouch in the chair, his face turning serious. "Sam, I've had a chance to talk to the President for a few moments, and things aren't very good over at the White House. He just doesn't understand what's going on, or he doesn't want to." He sat even higher in his chair, staring directly into Carter's eyes. "He seems to think we're installing offensive weapons… getting ready for an attack. He says he'll be damned if he'll order one." He paused for a moment, rubbing his left eye. "Just what is there about this new weapon on Islas Piedras? Does he know something I don't?"

"It's simply an advanced missile system. You may remember that it was determined during the last administration that the Indian Ocean had become the most strategic of international waters. It covers an umbrella from the tip of Africa through the oil states, India, Southeast Asia, and all the way down to Australia. Since the Russians have been trying to use Africa as a jumping-off point to the South Atlantic, and the Arabs have become increasingly frightened about who they want to jump into bed with, we felt we had to do something."

"I remember quite well, Sam." Jasperson had been Vice-President at the time, but had lost in his bid to run for President.

"We've been trying to set up Islas Piedras as a major base since the Russians moved into the Maldives. At the same time the laser system was being developed to neutralize Russian offensive satellites, we were also able to create a missile that was sort of a combination between an ICBM and a Cruise missile, long range and low level. We didn't need the range of the ICBM, and the SALT agreements made it difficult to justify, but this one just seemed to be the right one to protect our African interests and keep us on top of the oil states at the same time. I think you can feel comfortable in emphasizing to the President, if necessary, that this weapon is still purely strategic, and has not been established on Islas Piedras as an offensive weapon to start another war."

"I know, Sam," mused the Secretary, "they never are. But what would you think if you were a Russian?"

"Jesus, would I ever be pissed off. It's literally the same thing as their missiles in Cuba over twenty years ago. We don't plan to use them against Russia. We just want to grab their sphere of influence by the balls."

"Exactly. Remember, this was supposed to be a fait accompli. The missile system was going to be completed by the time the landing exercises were over. The President had authorized the use of the lasers for exactly the opposite reason you think— expecting they would never have to be used, and assuming no lives would ever be involved."

"But, damn it, Tom, they always are."

"I know, Sam. But I've been in this political business a long time, and I can tell you that Presidents don't expect things to go wrong or get delayed — because they don't want them to. And he wanted this only as his own fait accompli, to make him look good, not to get caught with his pants down. Your people used the lasers because that was the next step if the Russians got word of this, and now you've scared him. Now, if you'll pardon the expression, he sees the Navy making him a prime asshole in the eyes of the world and the Russians forcing him to give up what he had been told is our most strategic base — not to mention control of the seas."

"So what next?"

"How long will it take to finish off the Islas Piedras installation?"

Admiral Carter thought for a moment, folding his hands in his lap, placing the index fingers together, and finally resting their tips on the bridge of his nose. "A week, maybe two if we have trouble getting the warheads there. One thing to remember, we didn't want to have warheads on the island, especially nuclear ones, until we were damn sure it was secure. Can you imagine how foolish we'd look if the U.N. were to supervise us in removing nuclear-tipped weapons from an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean?"

"How long can Admiral Charles hold off the Russian force?"

"Tom, it's not a matter of holding them off. Remember, this started off as a show of force. They've already shown they're willing to fight. In a while, news of the first big sea battle in forty years is going to be spread all over the world. The Russians can figure on a battle of attrition with our forces, and if they keep them busy, their submarines can get to our supply ships. By that time the President will have either gone screaming to the U.N., or even worse, he might have picked up the hot line and surrendered a war that never started."

"How well do you know the Russians, Sam?"

"Do you mean the party Chairman, or Gorenko, or Alex Kupinsky?"

"I have met the people in the Kremlin, Sam. Who is this Kupinsky, the one you call Alex?"

Admiral Carter drew a deep breath, again resting the tips of his index fingers on the bridge of his nose. He exhaled slowly, "Alex Kupinsky is in command of the Russian Indian Ocean fleet. He is also Gorenko's adopted son. And not only is he a brilliant naval strategist who we know influenced the expansion of their support forces, but he was the brains behind their blue-water carrier task forces."

Secretary Jasperson whistled quietly. "That's a lot of horsepower."

"If your aides found that letter of reprimand in David's service record from more than fifteen years ago, I'm surprised they didn't also tell you that he was reassigned from the embassy in London because he developed a friendship with his alter ego in the Russian embassy." He stared directly at Jasperson.

"They did, Sam. I was just waiting to find out from you," he admitted. "Are you leading up to what I think you are?"

"Yes," he replied quietly. "It was Alex Kupinsky. If you put two people from different worlds in the same room, and they found out they had mutual interests, they'd spend some time together. They are both highly intelligent people, committed to the study of seapower. Alex knew his Mahan, and David had read everything that Gorenko wrote about the development of the Soviet Navy. And," he added thoughtfully, "Alex was in command of that submarine I surfaced off Cuba in 1962."

"Oh, my God! Now, I see!" was all that Jasperson said.

"That's right, Tom. The positions are reversed now. I don't think there's any way Gorenko or Kupinsky are going to give. David has to win, and you have to hold off the President."

The Secretary of State nodded his head in understanding, not saying a word. He understood perfectly well not only the stakes they were playing for but, now, the players.

Their personal thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. A word from Carter allowed the young comm officer to enter, followed by a cart with food for all of them and the necessary technicians to install the Secretary's phone to the Moscow embassy.