The Patriot Attack (21 page)

Outside Melbourne
Australia

F
red Klein moved across the carefully manicured lawn, following David McClellan as he skirted the mansion and tried to avoid the light bleeding from its windows. The rest of the president’s security detail had been pulled back for Klein’s arrival. It was well-known that he and Castilla had been friends since college and that they got together regularly based on that relationship. It also seemed likely that people assumed he gave the president occasional advice based on his background with the CIA and NSA. Showing up in Australia, though, would push those assumptions a little too far. Better to make his entrance and exit as quiet as possible.

McClellan pointed toward a set of stairs carved into the ground between two enormous flowering bushes. Klein could feel an uncharacteristic film of sweat forming between his palm and the handle of his briefcase as he descended toward an unlocked steel door.

The basement beyond was dim and only partially finished, a fittingly clandestine place for this particular piece of business. President Sam Adams Castilla sat alone at a folding table next to the wall, gazing into the crystal glass in his hand. He didn’t acknowledge his old friend’s arrival and Klein understood. The man was under almost unimaginable pressure. And it was about to get worse.

“I understand the negotiations are going well,” Klein said, deciding to try to start the meeting on a positive note.

“Doesn’t matter,” Castilla replied, continuing to stare at the two fingers of bourbon in his glass. Generally, the man was a force of nature. Now, though, something fundamental had changed. For the first time since they’d known each other, Castilla looked…broken.

Klein sat and slid a thick file marked “President’s Eyes Only” across the table.

“I don’t have the energy, Fred. Just hit me with the highlights.”

Castilla had given him a detailed account of his meeting with Takahashi and asked him to evaluate the man’s claims. As far as Klein knew, no one else was even aware that the meeting had taken place.

“In a nutshell?” Klein, said, reaching for the bottle of Black Widow and pouring himself a short glass. “Assuming thirty-plus years of research and development focused on the systems Takahashi told you about, my people think it’s largely doable.”

Castilla let out a long breath.

Klein opened the folder so he could go over the points in order. “Obviously, we know that the nanotech exists. We still aren’t sure that the control systems are robust enough to make it a viable weapon, though.”

“But you’re telling me they might be. That it’s potentially deployable.”

“I believe so, yes.”

Castilla took a healthy slug of his drink and then topped it off from the bottle. “Where do your people stand on tracking this thing down?”

“Randi is working on options, but they’re limited.”

“So you’re nowhere.”

Klein hated to fail his old friend but there was just no sugarcoating the current situation. “I’m sorry, Sam. My top man has been captured and I’m up against a brilliant general who’s been laying these plans since you and I were in school.”

“I’m not blaming you or your people, Fred. No one could do more. I know that.”

Klein gave a short nod, though the vote of confidence made him feel even more powerless.

“We’re convinced that he has the torpedoes he told you about. The technology’s been around since the Soviet era and the artificial intelligence needed to operate them isn’t that much more advanced than what we see in modern video games. Also, because this would have been a priority for him, we can assume that he’s deployed a significant number of them.”

“So tell me this, Fred. Why the hell don’t
we
have three-hundred-knot, artificially intelligent underwater missiles?”

“We’re actually working on the technology, but the program hasn’t seen much funding. We have a level of naval superiority that makes them a bit moot. Besides, as a country, we’ve shied away from putting life-and-death decisions in the hands of computers. Our strong bias is to have a human in the loop.”

“But the Japanese don’t have that bias.”

“No. What they have is a limited population base and limited resources. There are records of Takahashi’s predecessor talking about his philosophy of small, cheap, and independent. It seems like they’ve stuck with that.”

“How would they launch them? They don’t have much of a navy. I mean, I assume the intelligence community that I keep writing billion-dollar checks to would notice if the Japanese were building a fleet of submarines.”

“We assume that they reside on the bottom of the ocean, waiting for a go signal.”

“Great,” Castilla said.

“With regard to missile defense, my people also think Takahashi is telling the truth.”

“So, the US has spent God knows how much on our system and we can’t hit the broad side of a barn. But a little island in the Pacific has completely nailed it.”

“We’ve looked into a similar EMP-based shield in the past but decided not to pursue it. I don’t have to tell you that we have to tread carefully on missile defense in order not to skew the balance of power so much that it could prompt an attack. And to be clear, Sam, these are
nuclear
weapons. The US has never looked to acquire this kind of tactical nuclear capability. Once you start down that road, things can escalate pretty quickly.”

Klein flipped a page in the file. “The biological weapon is a simple matter. As you know we—”

“Have a moral objection to biological weapons,” Castilla said, finishing his sentence. “It’s unbelievable that we even have a defense industry with all these caveats.”

Klein leaned back in his chair, examining the side of his friend’s face. It would have been bad enough if he stopped there, but the president of the United States had to have the whole story.

“We also need to talk about what Takahashi didn’t say, Sam.”

Castilla finally looked directly at him. “What he didn’t say?”

“We have to assume that they have autonomous fighter drones based on their torpedo technology and that our planes would be no match for them.”

“It just keeps getting better and better.”

“We also have to assume that if they have nuclear defensive capability, they have nuclear offensive capability.”

“Missiles?”

“We don’t think so. It would be extremely hard to hide those kinds of installations. More likely suitcase nukes. My people believe that the Japanese could have easily developed something in the twenty-to-fifty-kiloton range.”

“Terrific.”

“Also, if they have a bioweapons program, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s not just defensive like Takahashi told you.”

“Any good news?” Castilla said. “Anything at all?”

“There is, actually. While we think they’ve developed the technology for all these weapons, manufacturing them in any large quantity would be extremely difficult. Not only because it would be hard to keep it under wraps, but because of the cost.”

Castilla suddenly stood and began pacing back and forth across the stone floor. “I sat three feet from Takahashi, Fred. I looked into his eyes. He didn’t build his army to defend Japan. He built it to annihilate China and to turn his country into a superpower. The government there will end up a military puppet and Takahashi will start his march across the East.”

He turned and looked back at Klein. “Wielding power is hard, Fred, but the US has struck a pretty good balance. Now, I’m not going to stand here and blow sunshine up your skirt. It’s true that some of our restraint has been because we have a strong belief in freedom—both our own and others’—but that’s not the whole story. A big part of it is that we live in a massive country blessed with enormous natural resources. For the most part, we haven’t
had
to go out and take what we need. Japan is different. It’s a small island with an aging population and a debt problem that makes ours look mild. Take my word for it—Takahashi wants to expand.”

Castilla started pacing again. “I’ve been thinking about this nanoweapon ever since you first told me about it. Have you considered what will happen if Takahashi actually uses it? Have you really thought it through? The entire Chinese power grid will go down when the plastic gets eaten off the wires. Dams will collapse and flood entire regions. Building will implode, machines will fall apart. And not just cars and tractors. Even the shovels people might be able to use to eke out an existence will crumble. We’re heading into winter and a billion people could be without heat, without shelter, without food. Six million Jews died in World War Two. This could make that look like a historical blip. There’s no way to spin this that we aren’t talking hundreds of millions of casualties, Fred.
Hundreds of millions
.”

“You spoke with him,” Klein said. “And like you say, you looked into his eyes. Where do we fit into all this?”

“That’s just it, Fred. For the first time in three-quarters of a century, we don’t. Takahashi has no particular love for the US—he blames us for a lot of Japan’s problems. He’s not stupid, though. He knows that we account for more than a fifth of the world’s economic activity. We’re necessary to keep the world from complete economic collapse and to maintain the status quo to the degree it’s possible. All he asks of us is that we stand back and watch him butcher millions of women and children. Simple, right?”

Castilla reached into his pocket and pulled out a small case, retrieving a single cigarette from it. The president had been carrying that cigarette around since he quit smoking twelve years ago. For emergencies, he liked to say.

Klein was going to voice his disapproval but instead remained silent as his old friend flicked a lighter to life.

“I don’t sleep too well,” Castilla said, letting the smoke roll from his mouth. “But one of the few things that let me catch a few hours here and there was knowing that if everything went pear-shaped, I had the most powerful military on the planet. Now you’re telling me that it was all bullshit.”

Klein put his palms flat on the table in front of him. “We still do, Sam. A modern military isn’t just a tool to destroy an enemy. We use ours to rebuild countries after they’ve been devastated. We’re the most effective disaster relief organization in the world. We provide security, we promote stability. We create technology that trickles down to private industry and moves the world forward. And let’s face it, Takahashi has a point. We provide jobs and fund defense contractors. What you have to understand is that Japan hasn’t built a twenty-first-century military. They’ve built a twenty-first-century war machine.”

Northeastern Japan

R
andi Russell paused at the entrance to the kitchen and looked around. The shades were drawn and the only light was coming from a lamp hanging over a tiled island in the room’s center. The house was a bit dilapidated, but also large and isolated, which was what she’d asked for. Besides, it had power and heat, so it was one step above most of the places she’d haunted over the last decade.

She watched the four people inside run their fingers along a map spread out on the island and talk in hushed tones. On the left were Eric and Karen Ivers, Covert-One operatives she’d known since she’d first signed up. In fact, they’d snatched her at gunpoint and taken her to her first meeting with Fred Klein.

The man in the middle was probably six feet five, blond, and wiry. Since Klein had sent him despite the fact that he would stick out like a sore thumb in Japan, it seemed likely that he had serious skills.

The man to his right was a good foot shorter, but Japanese, thank God. While Randi had redyed her hair black and used makeup to color the skin on her face, it was only enough to fool a casual observer with very bad eyesight. He’d have to be their point man for all things public. The rest of them would be forced to move around at night, keeping to secondary roads. If spotted in this rural setting, they’d garner a lot of interest from the widely scattered locals.

“Any brilliant ideas?” she asked, continuing into the room.

Everyone turned toward her and she shook hands with the tall blond man. “You must be Vanya. Pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine, Randi. I am looking forward to working with you.” His accent was a little vague. Eastern European for certain, but she couldn’t place the region. Probably by design.

Turning to the man next to him, she gave a short bow. “And you’re Reiji. An honor.”

He returned the bow but didn’t say anything. Hopefully because he was the quiet type and not because Japanese was his only language.

Finally, she gave a nod to the Iverses. “Congratulations on the wedding. Sorry I couldn’t be there.”

They both responded with an understanding shrug.

As she looked into their faces, she wasn’t really sure what to think. They were only five in all and two were completely unknown to her. The fact that they had Fred Klein’s confidence meant a lot but she still preferred working with people she’d seen in action. Or at least knew by reputation.

“I take it you’ve all been briefed on the nanotech we’re concerned with?”

Nods all around.

She leaned over the map and tapped a red dot in the center of the island. “We believe that the weapon’s being developed here at a nuclear storage facility bored through the side of a mountain.” She slid her finger along a thin line. “This represents the only road in. Everything else is steep and densely wooded. There’s a relatively flat section to the south of the facility that’s bordered by a deep canyon, with steep but negotiable walls. The nearest population center is a small village about forty miles east.”

She pulled out her phone and brought up a photo. “This is the entrance. Call it five meters in diameter. The bottom’s been flattened and there are rails leading inside. It’s about a kilometer through the cavern before you get to the main blast doors.”

She swiped to a second photo. “Here you can see the chain-link fence that surrounds the facility. Four meters high, topped with razor wire. Beyond the obvious cameras, the one guard is the only security visible.”

“Can we assume that there’s a lot that’s not so visible?” Karen asked.

“Definitely. But I can’t say what it is.”

“Certainly, that tunnel is a shooting gallery,” Vanya said. “I’d put chain guns in the walls and operate them remotely. In a matter of seconds the air would be so full of bullets you wouldn’t be able to breathe.”

“Don’t forget mines,” Reiji said in respectable English. “Antipersonnel mines would be extremely effective in that confined space.”

“And that’s just the conventional stuff,” Randi said. “The Japanese military seems to have spent the last thirty-plus years developing whole new classes of weapons. The truth is we have no idea what to expect. If we’re right about this place, we could be facing things we’ve never seen before.”

“And if we’re wrong, we’re going to be facing a lot of very confused forklift operators,” Eric said.

That actually got a round of subdued laughter. Not enough to break the tension, but enough to at least take it down a notch.

“Do we know anything about the blast doors?” Karen asked.

“The specs call for a foot of steel, but we think it might be stronger than that.”

“Stronger than a foot of steel?”

Klein’s military brain trust had been going through Takahashi’s claims and had recently come upon something that everyone—including her—had missed: the good general’s limo. Everyone attributed his surviving Yoshima’s assassination attempt to luck, but if you looked at the tape with no preconceived notions, it was clear that luck had nothing to do with it. His car should have been completely vaporized. Instead, it seemed to have suffered barely a scratch before being whisked away by helicopters never to be seen again.

“Maybe a lot stronger, actually.”

“It sounds like it would be easier to just go through the damn rock,” Eric said.

“It doesn’t matter if the door is made of paper,” Vanya said. “The likelihood of anyone surviving an incursion into that tunnel is very remote, no?”

“I know that I don’t want to be the poor son of a bitch standing there with his dick in one hand and a power drill in the other,” Eric said. Everyone seemed to agree.

“Okay,” Randi said. “So we forget the front door.”

“I hate to point out the obvious here, but a bunker buster,” Karen offered. “Quick, effective, and it should get around whatever ground defenses they’ve dreamed up. We could fly it in from our base on Okinawa. They’d have zero time to react.”

Reiji’s brow furrowed. “Bomb Japan? This cannot happen, yes?”

Randi looked up at him. The man was undoubtedly a patriot and she was hesitant to talk freely on this subject in front of him. Having said that, Klein had specifically cleared everyone standing around this table. As far as he was concerned, their loyalty to Covert-One was above suspicion.

“Unfortunately, it can happen, Reiji. Based on what I’m being told, nothing is off the table. The problem here isn’t approvals so much as the nanotech we suspect is being housed at the facility. There’s no way to overstate how dangerous it could be if it got out. We can’t risk blowing it into the atmosphere.”

“Deliveries?” Eric said.

“What little intel we have suggests that everything going in and out is examined with some kind of particle scanner. You couldn’t smuggle in a cockroach.”

“The Cask of Amontillado,” Vanya said. Everyone just stared at him.

“Three Americans here and none of you read Poe? Your education system is as bad as I have been led to believe. My point is this: We don’t really want to get in here. We just don’t want them to get out. Why not seal it up?”

“That’s the kind of out-of-the-box thinking we need,” Randi said. “But in this case, I don’t think it’s workable. We believe that there’s a lot of mental horsepower and equipment in there…”

“She’s right,” Reiji interjected. “When the workers and scientists realize what we’re trying to do, they will panic and try to get out any way they can. If they succeed, their weapon could get out with them.”

Everyone fell silent and that silence stretched out a depressingly long time.

“I don’t read much Poe, but I like movies,” Eric said finally. “This thing reminds me of the alien in those Sigourney Weaver flicks. In the unlikely event you find a way to hurt it, it bleeds acid all over you.”

Randi ran over the map again, trying to come up with something—anything—they were missing. “Come on, people. We’re supposed to be the best at this kind of thing. Get me into that damn facility.”