Fade Out Page 4

  ‘Didn’t we have some agreement banning this kind of thing?’ asked the President.

  ‘We still have,’ said Connors. ‘The snag is we’ve both bent the rules a little.’

  ‘Who bent them first?’

  ‘We did. Ah – by that, I mean a previous Administration. Don’t you remember? We put up those test vehicles – the particle beam weapons that were going to be part of the SDI programme.’

  ‘But we cancelled the whole Star Wars thing. That was part of the deal we made with Leonovich.’

  Connors shrugged. ‘Maybe they still don’t trust us. Let’s face it, a year from now they could find themselves with another cowboy in the White House.’

  ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ The President turned to Fraser. ‘What kind of a situation does this put us in? Mel?’

  ‘Well – if this is SWAYBACK, all they have to do is fire those missiles under cover of a similar radar fade-out and we would never know what hit us.’

  It was a sobering prospect but one that Connors found himself unable to accept. It just didn’t fit in with what he had learned of the Russians in the last three years. It was true that despite all the talking, they hadn’t given any ground in the futile battle for nuclear supremacy, but the latest escalation was a direct result of the last two big increases in the US defence budget. And the continuing financial and economic crises that threatened to rip the West apart didn’t make them any less nervous.

  The past political and military support of corrupt and greedy regimes on the grounds that they were a bulwark against communism had cost America dear. The dubious morality of such a policy had caused its long-time allies to despair and had earned it the hatred and enmity of all those who yearned to be free.

  The Vietnam experience had vividly demonstrated the limitations of American firepower. Short of turning that ravaged country into a nuclear wasteland the war could not have been won by hardware alone. Wars were won by nations whose collective heart and mind was fully engaged and whose people were prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice.

  One only had to compare the conduct of the US Marines on Tarawa in 1943 with their lack-lustre performance in Beirut some forty years later. The uncomfortable truth – which few cared to be reminded of – was that, since the victory over Nazi Germany and Japan in 1945, the only military action the United States had carried through to a successful conclusion had been the invasion of the tiny Caribbean island of Grenada. If there was anything to be learned from the last four decades it was that thermo-nuclear war was unthinkable and any other kind was unwinnable. This sobering realization was one of the principal reasons why Connors believed that it was now the age of the diplomat, not of the Defense Department dinosaur.

  ‘Mel, this whole proposition of yours is based on a series of assumptions. Just how do you propose to verify any of them? At the moment, I’m not aware of any proof that the spacecraft is the cause of this interference, or that it’s full of H-bombs. We don’t even know for sure that it’s Russian.’

  ‘Who else can it belong to?’ asked the President with a touch of impatience. ‘The Chinese?’

  ‘Mr President?’ It was CIA Director McKenna.

  ‘Go ahead, Mack.’

  ‘I think we can eliminate them. We’ve been running a close check on their whole program. They’re preparing to put a communications satellite into orbit for the Japanese using one of their Long March rockets but apart from that they’ve had nothing on the pad for the last three months.’

  ‘It’s not the French. They’re too busy making money out of Ariane. What do you think, Arnold? Who does that leave – the Israelis?’ Fraser’s anti-Semitic stare bounced harmlessly off Wedderkind’s thick lenses.

  Schnorrer…

  ‘Okay, Mel,’ said Connors. ‘But just to make sure, why don’t we call up Moscow and ask? The Russians have always kept details of their space program close to their chests. The fact that we didn’t get prior notification of launching doesn’t necessarily mean that this vehicle has any offensive capability.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Wedderkind. ‘But – ’

  ‘It depends how you define offensive capability,’ said Fraser. Okay, at this moment in time, I don’t have any proof that this is SWAYBACK. I grant you that. But are you trying to tell us that this thing the Russians have put up isn’t the source of the fade-out?’

  ‘I admit that these latest ten-second bursts of interference seemed to be linked to changes in orbit,’ said Connors.

  ‘They don’t seem to be, they are.’

  ‘They could be linked in another way,’ said Wedderkind. ‘Chuck and I have been arguing about this on the way here. Instead of the bursts of radiation coming from the spacecraft’s power plant, it could be coming from outer space. We already know that bursts of cosmic radiation can create drag on satellites, causing orbital decay. In which case these changes we’ve recorded may not be controlled. They may be due to the effect of some heavy cosmic radiation on the spacecraft.’

  ‘That still leaves two hundred and fifty tons of Red hardware to be explained away.’ said Fraser. ‘And don’t tell me it’s going to Jupiter.’

  ‘I wouldn’t even try to guess what it is,’ said Connors. ‘It seems to me there’s too much guessing going on already. I don’t think you’ve really considered the colossal scale of this breakdown, Mel. I mean, this is big stuff. Arnold knows a hell of a lot more about this than I do, but I’m sure that a disturbance of this intensity could only be caused by some freak burst of radiation – either from the sun, or from some other source in outer space. Right, Arnold?’

  Wedderkind puckered his lips. ‘Well, for the moment, that’s what Chuck and I have got our money on.’

  Connors had been hoping to elicit a more constructive response, Wedderkind’s reply left him still carrying the ball. He looked around the table. ‘At least some answer on those lines is supported by our own intelligence reports about the Russians having the same kind of trouble as we had on Friday. We still don’t have any precise information on the size of this thing. It could turn out to be another chunk of the space-station they’re building. The way I see it, the launch just happened to coincide with the fade-out.’ He shrugged. ‘That would make more sense than some secret weapon.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Fraser.

  ‘Because if they had found some way of blacking out our radar, they’d have told us by now – or the war would already be over.’

  ‘Maybe they decided to give us a demonstration instead,’ said Fraser. ‘And maybe it’s you who hasn’t got the message.’

  ‘Mel,’ said Connors. ‘You’ve forgotten I’ve had the advantage of meeting the people in Moscow. The Premier, the top half-dozen guys in the Praesidium, Marshal Rudenkov. Not just to split a bottle of vodka, but for serious, nose-to-nose discussions. I can assure you that an escalation of the arms race into outer space with the kind of weaponry you’re proposing just doesn’t fit into what we know of their long-term objectives.’

  ‘I only know one thing about their objectives,’ said Fraser. ‘They dress them up differently every year, but they’re the same as they’ve always been. Their war with us goes on.’ He looked around the table. ‘I know that’s a very unfashionable view to hold around Washington these days, but that’s what I believe. And every deal we make with them puts them one step nearer their real objective – the eventual overthrow of the United States of America and the enslavement of its people.’

  Heady stuff, thought Connors, but out of date. It had become clear during the election campaign that Fraser’s beliefs were directly opposed to his own and those of the President, but his presence in their camp had been a vital part of the delicate balance of forces. Permanently withered by the Cold War, Fraser’s view of the world had its roots in the isolationist policies of the thirties. Even so, it was unwise to ignore him. Fraser had a lot of powerful friends and there were a mass of people up and down the country who agreed with him.

  ‘I think our response on
Friday shows that this Administration is prepared to act against any real threat from Russia,’ said the President quietly. ‘At the moment, however, I believe the biggest danger facing the free world stems from our continued failure to mount a coherent response to the global threat from radical terrorist groups and their Middle Eastern paymasters,’

  ‘We should deal with them the way we should deal with the Russians,’ said Fraser. ‘They may not be working hand in glove but it’s no secret that every time a bomb explodes or an American hostage is murdered Moscow racks up another goal. And it’s no coincidence that the public image of these sons of bitches is a masked gunman brandishing a Kalashnikov. But we’re not here to discuss my views on that. Let me just give you some facts instead – about what I’m sure we all wish was a perfectly innocent Jupiter probe. We contacted all our radar installations in North America and overseas and got from them the exact time they were hit, and the duration of the fade-out. We also got the same information from every major airport and air traffic control centre and fed the figures into a computer.’

  ‘Did they include Eastern Europe and Russia?’ asked Connors.

  ‘No,’ said Fraser. ‘They wouldn’t play ball. It’s up to you to guess why. What the figures did show was that we weren’t all hit at the same time. The pattern thrown up by the computer showed a six-thousand-mile-wide shock wave of interference moving East to West around the globe at an angle of approximately sixty degrees to the equator. The speed of the shock wave matches that of the spacecraft, and its path coincides with the original plane of orbit.’

  Connors looked at Wedderkind and got a nod that indicated he already knew about this. It explained why he hadn’t backed him up earlier.

  ‘It all adds up,’ said Fraser. ‘Our friend up there is the source of the fade-out. And that means that those bastards can lower the boom on us any time they choose.’

  Connors felt the President’s eyes upon him. He didn’t look up. Arnold Wedderkind, who knew a friend in trouble when he saw one, came over the hill like the Fifth Cavalry.

  ‘Mel, you and Gene may very well prove to be right, but there are still a few things bothering me. If I remember correctly, the report Gene showed us in January had SWAYBACK being put into orbit by a multiple cluster of solid-fuel rockets.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Samuels. ‘But – ’

  Fraser cut him off. ‘Listen. Let’s not get bogged down discussing how many nuts and bolts SWAYBACK was supposed to have. Let’s just wipe that out and start looking at this thing as a totally new piece of hardware.’

  ‘It’s certainly that all right,’ said Wedderkind. ‘And it raises three big question marks. In order to support this proposition of yours, we need more than that set of figures you’ve come up with. We have to postulate three hypothetical situations. First – ’

  The President raised a hand. ‘Just hold it right there for a minute, Arnold. Let’s keep our feet on the ground. Do you have any relevant data on this, Mack?’

  McKenna already had his file open at the right page. ‘We know they are carrying out theoretical research into a range of new propulsion systems. But everything we have to date indicates that all these projects are still in the experimental stage.’

  ‘That was one of the points I was going to make,’ said Wedderkind.

  The President nodded and looked past him at General Clayson. ‘Chuck, did any of your surveillance units intercept any of the usual pre-launch radio traffic?’

  ‘No, sir, but if Mel is right – ’

  ‘And it’s a big “if”,’ said Wedderkind.

  ‘– SWAYBACK could, as you yourself suggested, have lifted off and gone into orbit under cover of the fade-out created by the propulsion unit.’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Connors. ‘Science isn’t my forte but, from what I’ve read, a space vehicle powered by a plasma reactor is unlikely to get off the ground until the second half of the next century. Right, Arnold?’

  ‘Right…’

  Fraser reached out and tapped the dossier that lay in front of Gene Samuels. ‘The figures can’t lie. How else can you explain the shock wave of interference that matched the speed and angle of orbit?’

  ‘I can’t, Mel,’ conceded Wedderkind. ‘At least not right now. I’m not disputing the figures but when you take all the other factors into account…’ He shifted uneasily in his chair and poked at his glasses. ‘Don’t ask me why. It just… it just doesn’t smell right.’

  ‘I don’t think we can base any worthwhile estimates of Russian military intentions on a sense of smell,’ said Samuels. ‘However acute that organ might be.’ He looked round the table to see how well he’d done with that last bit.

  Connors aimed a shaft of solidarity towards Wedderkind then turned a cold eye on Samuels. ‘Whether those figures add up or not remains to be seen. Until then, I think we should cut out the speculation and the cheap shots and get back to basics.’ He looked at General Chuck Clayson. ‘When did we get the last set of Big Bird pictures of the launch sites?’

  ‘Just under two weeks ago,’ said Clayson. Big Bird was the Air Force’s code name for a steerable photoreconnaissance satellite. There were several of them in orbit.

  ‘In that case, you or the DIA must have a picture of this thing standing around somewhere on the ground,’ said the President.

  ‘There was a big rocket on the Number Two pad at Baikonur last week,’ said Clayson.

  ‘It was still there on Friday afternoon.’

  The President accepted this information from Wedderkind without demur. They all knew that he was tuned into a shadowy scientific network that passed on scuttlebutt about the Russian space program. It was one of the reasons why he was with them around the table.

  ‘How about the other launch sites?’ asked Connors.

  ‘Plesetsk was getting ready to put up two standard sows,’ replied Clayson. ‘All the other sites were clear.’

  ‘Perhaps now you can understand why I found it hard to go along with Mel’s proposition that the source of the fade-out is SWAYBACK,’ said Wedderkind.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Connors. ‘Where did the Russians launch this thing from, Gene? A hole in the ground?’

  Everyone except Fraser turned their eyes on the head of the Defense Intelligence Agency. Samuels looked as if he’d been hit by a custard pie. ‘It must have come from somewhere.’

  Connors saw Fraser wince.

  ‘Mel,’ said the President. ‘I’m not sure I know how, or why, or what it is that the Russians have put up there, but if you want to use it to bulldoze my foreign policy, your boys are going to have to do a lot better than this.’

  As Samuels sank without trace, the phone behind Connors rang twice. He leaned back and lifted it off the hook ‘… Right. Put it through to the study.’ Connors replaced the phone and put the front legs of his chair back on the floor. ‘The Kremlin’s on the line.’ He smiled at the President. ‘At least we don’t have to pay for the call.’

  The President leaned his elbows on the table, closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose with both forefingers. Connors had noted that it was something he always did at moments like this. Two or three seconds of intense concentration… He stood up, waving the others back into their seats. All except Connors. ‘Since it’s your head, maybe you’d better be in on this.’ His eyes took the edge off the words.

  Fraser and the others watched the study door close behind the President and Connors. Wedderkind tore open a pack of cigarettes and passed them around. McKenna, like the President, didn’t smoke. Clayson was trying to give it up.

  Samuels lit Fraser’s cigarette. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I really blew out on that. I just wasn’t – ’

  ‘We’ll survive,’ said Fraser. He had already made up his mind that the real problem lay in the fact that both he and Samuels were almost three inches taller than the President, while Connors…

  Jerry Silvermann came into the Pine Room. ‘Some more dope has just come through on Lenin’s Tomb.�
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  ‘Lenin’s what?’ asked Clayson.

  ‘Lenin’s Tomb.’ Silvermann kept it deadpan. ‘Isn’t that what they’ve got flying around up there?’

  ‘Save the jokes,’ said Fraser. ‘Just give us the message.’

  ‘There’s been thirty more seconds of spaghetti on the radar, and that Jupiter probe is now orbiting at just over a thousand miles up. It looks as if those British guys were right.’ Silvermann adopted a heavy Slavic accent. ‘Tzee Rooshee-anns hev probe-lemps.’

  ‘Jerry, ’said Wedderkind patiently, ‘go and put a new ribbon in your typewriter.’

  ‘No sense of humour. That’s what’s wrong with this Administration,’ said Silvermann. ‘All the wire services have the story, by the way. NBC has already put it out as a news flash. Most of the dailies will probably give it a few lines tomorrow. Message ends.’

  Wedderkind frowned as Silvermann left. ‘Why is it coming down?’

  ‘Maybe it is going to burn up,’ said McKenna. He looked across at Fraser. ‘If it does, you may end up with a real nonevent on your hands.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Fraser.

  Samuels puffed smoke. ‘There is, at least, one bright spot. This bum steer the British have given everybody will take the heat away from us for a while. It’ll give us a chance to find out what it is. Yeah…’ He puffed out more smoke. ‘It’s a big break.’

  ‘It’s better than everyone knowing we were caught flat-footed,’ said Fraser. He wasn’t looking at Samuels but his voice trod all over him.

  ‘Uh – yeh…’ Samuels coughed. ‘Ah – Chuck, how soon can you have one of your SAINTS look this thing over?’

  The word SAINTS stood for SAtellite Surveillance and INTerception System. It was one of the United States’ closely guarded secrets – armed reconnaissance satellites, controlled from the ground, and capable of altering their height and angle of orbit. Disguised as research satellites, and ostensibly part of America’s continuing ‘World Resources’ survey program, each of the SAINTS was equipped with TV cameras and carried fifty tiny guided missiles with conventional explosive warheads.