Stuart Woods - Mounting Fears

“Have the occupiers made any demands?”

“No, and they are not responding to our communications.”

“Is there anything I can do for you at this moment?”

“Not yet, sir, but I will be in touch. I just wanted to be sure that you had been made aware of the situation.”

“I have, and my military and intelligence staff have just arrived. I hope to speak to you again when your meeting is over. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

“That was Mohammed Khan,” Will said to the others. “He seems to know little right now, but he’s about to meet with his military staff.”

“Mr. President,” General Boone, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, said, “I think it would be best if we moved this meeting to the Situation Room, since we have some electronic intelligence to display, and that room is best equipped for it.”

Ten minutes later the group had settled in around the conference table in the Situation Room. “Who’d like to start?” he asked.

“I would,” Kate said. “We have some satellite photos to show you.” She clicked a remote control, and an image of mountains appeared; with a laser pointer she indicated a narrow valley. “This is the location of the installation,” she said. “As you can see we have clear weather, so this is a very good photo.” She clicked again and zoomed in until the missile site appeared clearly. “This is the view from about two thousand feet. You can see the cluster of buildings and the array of silos.”

“No people?” Will asked.

“Everyone seems to be inside the buildings, but you can see dead bodies here, here and here, around the perimeter fence.”

“What missiles are present?”

“I can answer that,” General Boone said. “There are six silos, two of which contain nuclear-tipped missiles. The others are conventional high explosive.”

“Do we know the tonnage?”

“We believe no more than ten kilotons each,” the general said, “perhaps less.”

“That’s what, half the tonnage of the Hiroshima bomb?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What range?”

“We think no more than a thousand miles. They could reach all of northwestern India, including Delhi.”

“But not Israel.”

“No, sir. But if they were able to move a missile to the southwestern corner of Afghanistan, they could just about do it.”

“But they can’t move them?”

“There are two mobile missile launchers inside one of the buildings, but it would be quite a job to load a missile onto one and truck it four or five hundred miles, then fire. We think that very unlikely, and if they tried it we could knock out the vehicle and the missile.”

“If they were to attempt such a thing, how long might it take them?”

The general permitted himself a small shrug. “A week, ten days, perhaps.”

“Let’s keep that in mind during our planning.”

The vice president, George Kiel, spoke up. “How far to the nearest Pakistani military base?”

“Thirty miles,” the general replied.

“And what forces are present there?”

“An armored regiment.”

Will spoke up. “I don’t see how they could attack the missile site with that sort of force,” he said, “without risking a launch. They could certainly hit any city in Pakistan.”

“Correct, Mr. President,” the general said. “The key would be speed, to get there before the invaders get a grip on how to fire a missile.”

“That could be a very short time.” Lance Cabot, the CIA DDO, had spoken for the first time, and everyone turned and looked at him.

“They would need time to persuade the staff to start firing missiles,” the general said.

“Not if they had one or more men on the inside,” Cabot said, “and we know there have been terrorist attempts to penetrate the Pakistani nuclear program.”

“That’s troubling,” Will said.

“If it’s true,” the general countered. “Mr. Cabot, do you have any evidence of such a penetration or even an attempt?”

Cabot opened a folder in front of him. “Three weeks ago, we received a report from a source inside the Pakistani government that two technicians at this site had not returned from weekend leave on schedule. They still have not returned. Up to now, at least.”

The room was silent for a long moment.

“General Boone,” Will said, “have you had time to do any planning? And if so, do we have the relevant forces available?”

“Mr. President, we have a detachment of Navy SEALs deployed in the mountains, less than a hundred miles from the missile site.”

“How many men?”

“Thirty, plus support people.”

“Thirty doesn’t sound like many.”

“There may be no Taliban other than the invading party,” Boone said.

“But we have no intelligence on the size of that party?”

“Correct, sir.”

“Do we know which silos contain the nuclear warheads?” Will asked.

“No, sir, but the Pakistanis do. So that information should be available to us.”

“Is it possible, if the SEALs could get into the compound, to destroy the missiles in their silos without setting off a nuclear blast?”

“Theoretically, sir.”

“Certainly,” Cabot said, interrupting. “The warheads are wired not to explode in the silos; they are armed by radio after firing.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” the general said.

“We know for sure,” Cabot replied. “We’ve known since before the missiles were deployed. I would have thought the Pentagon would know it, too.”

“If we sent a few cruise missiles in there with conventional warheads,” Will asked, “could we knock out the nukes before they could be fired?”

“In theory,” Cabot said, looking at Boone. “General?”

Boone turned to the president. “Sir, the site was chosen to make that difficult, with high mountains surrounding it. An air strike would be more vertical-and more precise.”

“What defenses would the site have against an air attack?” Will asked. “I presume that the surrounding mountains would reduce the effectiveness of radar until the aircraft were right on top of them.”

“That’s probable, sir,” the general replied. “There are ground-to-air defensive missiles on the site. We don’t know how many.”

“All right,” Will said. “We need more information. General Boone, I think you should contact your counterpart in the Pakistani army and get a full report on the defensive capabilities of the missile site, and then you should start plans for both an air strike and a ground assault immediately following.”

“Mr. President, the Pakistanis are probably in a position to make both efforts before we could.”

“For planning purposes, assume that they can’t or won’t do it in a timely manner,” Will said.

“You understand, sir, that such a move on our part would constitute an attack on the soil of a friendly nation?”

“Of course, but I would rather deal with that than with the after-math of a nuclear explosion,” Will said. “Now Madame Director and gentlemen, the vice president and I need the room for a while, and I assume you all would like to speak to your respective headquarters.”

Everyone stood and filed out, except the president and vice president.

“Now, George,” Will said, “let’s talk.”

Will looked at his Vice President. He had not seen him for more than a week, and he seemed to have lost weight. “How are you, George?” he asked.

“Will, I’m not well. I’ve had a recurrence of the prostate cancer, and I’m scheduled for surgery this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Have they given you a prognosis?”

“I’m afraid it has already spread. I know this is an awkward time to hear this, but I’m not going to be able to be on the ticket.”