Ralph Peters (60 page)

The Journey's

End

20

3 November 2020

Daisy listened. She wanted to speak, but could
find no words. She wanted to act, but there was nothing to be done. Everything had gotten out of control. They had failed.
She
had failed. All of the careful intelligence analysis had turned out to be a joke. And the Japanese had kept the punchline hidden until it was too late. Now it was all over, and the only thing she could do was to listen.

"
Mr. President, it's time to throw in the towel,
"
the secretary of state said. He was a dignified old man who consciously cheapened his speech whenever he spoke to Waters, employing catchphrases and slang otherwise foreign to his tongue.
"
We gave it our best shot, and we missed. Now it's time to cut our losses. I'm certain we can negotiate a safe withdrawal for the remainder of our forces in the Soviet Union.
"

Daisy looked appraisingly at the President. The smooth, photogenic face had gone haggard, and the man looked far older than his years. She knew that the President suffered from high-blood pressure, and it troubled her. The Vice President was an intellectual nonentity who had only been placed on the ticket because he was a white southerner from an established political family—the perfect counterbalance for Jonathan Waters, who was black, northern, and passionately liberal. The election ploy had succeeded at the polls, but Daisy dreaded the thought of
a sudden incapacitation of Waters. For all his ignorance of international affairs and military matters, Daisy could not suppress the instinctive feeling that the President's judgment was sound, while that of the men who served him was increasingly suspect. The Vice President was, perhaps, the most hopeless of the lot. Even now, with the nation's armed forces in combat overseas, Vice President Maddox was plodding on with the original itinerary of a tour of environmentally threatened sites on the West Coast. He would not even be back in the District until early the next morning.

Daisy certainly did not agree with all of the President's decisions. But she was convinced that his incorrect decisions were made with the best intentions, while the motives of his closest advisers were too often shaped by self-interest or parochialism. Watching the man age before her eyes, Daisy hoped he would take the measures that had become so evidently necessary as quickly as possible, then rest.

The President slumped back in his chair. He seemed smaller than he had appeared to Daisy in the past. His suit rumpled around him like a refugee's blanket.

"
And the Pentagon's position?
"
Waters asked, turning to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
"
Give it to me straight.
"

The general leaned in over the table. He looked tormented. The secretary of defense had collapsed from exhaustion during a hasty early morning trip to the Building, and the chairman had been temporarily left adrift to define the military's position. He was a big, barrel-chested man, and his heavy face had the look of thick rubber that had lost its elasticity. His eyes were shrunken and dark, surrounded by a discoloration as mottled as camouflage paint.

"
Mr. President,
"
he began carefully,
"
we would do well to remember that the balance sheet isn't completely in the red. If you look at the raw numbers, for instance, the Japanese and their proxies have suffered a grave defeat at the hands of the United States Army. We've lost a squadron. They've lost their most potent field forces, the key combat equipment out of several corps. If the Japanese hadn't had an ace up their sleeve, we'd be sitting here having a victory celebration. Our forces performed bril
liantly. Unfortunately, the intelligence services missed a vital piece of information—
"

Daisy felt Bouquette bristle at her side. But it was true. It was all too true. The intelligence system had let them all down. And she already knew that they would not suffer so much as a single broken career for it. She knew Washington. Since she was a woman, her job was particularly safe.

"
—and we got caught with our pants down. Our boys ... did their best. They did a damned fine job.
"

"
But?
"
the President said.

"
Mr. President,
"
the chairman said, looking at Waters with a face stripped of professional vanity,
"
I believe we should salvage what we can. It's not over. We can carry on the fight another day. But this round ... Mr. President, this one's gone to the Japanese.
"

President Waters nodded. He made a church of his touched-together fingertips.

"
And what does it cost us?
"
he asked.
"
If we just pull out?
"

The secretary of state cleared his throat.
"
Mr. President . . . naturally, the Japanese will expect some concessions. I don't see it impacting on the Western Hemisphere . . . but, the Siberia question ... of course, that's ultimately going to be resolved between the Soviets and the Japanese anyway.
"

Waters swiveled a few degrees in his chair, turning to stare down the table to where Bouquette and Daisy sat in the first row of seats beyond the table.

"
Cliff,
"
the President said to Bouquette,
"
is it the Agency's view that the Japanese will make repeated use of the Scramblers if we don't cut a deal?
"

Bouquette rose.
"
Mr. President, there's no question about it. If they employed them once, they'll do it again. If we provoke them. We suspect that they've already delivered an ultimatum to the Soviets.
"

"
And you now concur with the assessment of Colonel . . . uh, Taylor . . . that these are some kind of radio weapons?
"

Bouquette pawed one of his fine English shoes at the carpet.
"
Yes, Mr. President. Radiowave weapons, actually. Yes, it now appears that Colonel Taylor's initial assessment was correct. Of course, he had the advantage of being on the scene, while we had to work with secondhand information.
"

"
And these are weapons that could have been introduced into the U.S. arsenal a decade ago?
"

"
We can still build them,
"
the chairman interrupted.
"
We could field new prototypes in six months.
"

"
I don't
want
to build them,
"
the President said. There was an unmistakable note of anger in his voice.
"
If we had them, I would not order their use. Even now.
"
Waters slumped again, then smiled wearily.
"
Perhaps, after the election, you'll be able to take up the matter with my successor.
"
He turned back to Bouquette.
"
Do we have any idea whether the Japanese have other tricks up their sleeve? Do they have any more secret weapons?
"
Bouquette glanced down at his hand-sewn shoes. Then he took a breath that was clearly audible to Daisy.
"
Mr. President, we have no further information in that regard. But we cannot rule out the possibility.
"

Waters nodded his head in acknowledgment. The movement was rhythmic and slight, the equivalent of mumbling to himself. It was the gesture of an old man.

The President looked around the room.

"
Does anybody have a different opinion? Another view? Is it the general consensus that we should run up the white flag?
"

"
Mr. President,
"
the chairman said quickly,
"
I wouldn't put it in quite those terms.
"

Waters turned to face the general. It was clear to Daisy that the President was having a very hard time controlling his anger. Despite his exhaustion.

"
Then what terms would you put it in? What do you think the American people are going to call it? Do you think the man in the street's going to fish up some fancy term—what do you call it?—a strategic correction or something like that?
"
Waters looked around the room with harder eyes than Daisy had credited him with possessing.
"
I want you to be absolutely clear about this, gentlemen.

I
am
not
talking or thinking about the election. Let me say it outright. I've lost already, and there is nothing anyone in this room can do about it. No, what concerns me now is that we have made some very bad decisions.
I
have made bad decisions. We sent our fighting men to die—for nothing, it seems. We have squandered our nation's international prestige yet again—Christ, what were you telling me earlier?
"
he asked the secretary of state.
"
The Japanese, along with two dozen 'nonaligned' nations, have already introduced a resolution in the UN condemning us for interfering in the sovereign affairs of third-party states. The Japanese already have diplomats standing up in the General Assembly and blaming
us
for triggering the use of these Scramblers. They're making fools of us all, with record speed. While we sit here with our thumbs up our backsides. Gentlemen,
"
Waters said slowly,
"
I am an angry man.
"
He smirked.
"
But don't worry. I know exactly who to blame. I'm just sorry I was so damned smug.
"
His smirk deepened, forcing painful-looking cuts into the skin around his mouth.
"
Maybe America wasn't ready for a black president, after all.
"

No one dared speak. Daisy felt sorry for Waters. He was, she sensed, genuinely a good man. Carrying too much baggage, and with too little experience. They had all failed him.

They had failed George Taylor too.
She
had failed him unforgivably. But she would make it up to him. She imagined how he must be feeling now. With his life's dreams lying in ruins in a foreign land. But at least he was alive, and as yet untouched by the unspeakable weaponry that had hidden behind so innocuous a word. He was alive, and if there was no more foolishness, he would be coming home to her. Of everyone in the overheated conference room, she was the only one with cause for joy.

I
could be good for him, she thought. I really could. He'll need me now.

"
Before I make a final decision,
"
President Waters said,
"
I want to consult with our Soviet allies one more time.
"

"
Mr. President,
"
the secretary of state said impatiently,
"
their position's clear. While we lost—what was it—a squadron? A few hundred men? The Soviets still haven't begun to total their losses. An entire city—what was it, Bouquette?
"

"
Orsk.
"

"
Yes, Orsk. And dozens of surrounding towns. Hundreds of settlements. Why, the Soviets are overwhelmed. They have no idea how to cope with the casualties. We're talking numbers in the hundreds of thousands. And what if the Japanese use these weapons again? Mr. President, you heard the Soviet ambassador yourself. 'Immediate negotiations for an armistice.' The Soviets have already thrown in the towel.
"

President Waters narrowed his eyes.
"
Have the Soviets established direct contact with Tokyo on this?
"

"
Not yet.
"

"
So they still have not taken any unilateral action? They're still waiting for our response?
"

"
Mr. President, it's merely a diplomatic courtesy. They expect us to join them in the discussions—we can still lend a certain weight, of course.
"

"
But the Soviets still have not 'thrown in the towel,' technically speaking?
"

"
Well, not formally, of course. But, in spirit . . .
"

"
Then don't contradict me,
"
Waters said.
"
I want to speak with the Soviet president. One on one. I want to hear his views from his lips.
"

"
Sir, the Soviets have made it clear they're going to call it quits,
"
the secretary of state said. His voice carried the tone of a teacher sorely disappointed with his pupil.
"
We stand to lose leverage if we—
"

Waters turned on the secretary of state with a look so merciless that the distinguished old man broke off in midsentence.

"
You can give up your efforts to educate me,
"
Waters said.
"
Write me off as another black dropout. Just get President Chernikov on the line—no, first get me Colonel Taylor. I want to talk to that man one more time.
"

"
Mr. President,
"
the chairman of the Joint Chiefs said carefully,
"
Colonel Taylor's in no position to give you an objective view of the situation. You heard what his subordinate, Lieutenant Colonel Reno, said about him. And you heard the man yourself. All Colonel Taylor wants to do is to hit back at what hurt him. He's reacting emotionally. He has absolutely no grip of the new geopolitical realities involved here.
"

Waters looked at the chairman. To her surprise, Daisy saw a genuine smile spread across the President's face.

"
Well,
"
Waters said,
"
I guess that makes two of us. Anyway, I'd be a damned fool not to hear out the one man who's got the balls to tell me when he's busy.
"
Waters snapped his head around to look at Daisy.
"
Do excuse my language, Miss Fitzgerald. Just pretend you weren't listening.
"