Arctic Storm Rising by Dale Brown (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📗

Rogozin took a short, sharp breath. “Well, that tears it,” he said quietly. He turned to Zhdanov with a worried look. “I’llorganize an armed reconnaissance mission over that area as rapidly as possible, Mr. President. We could be in a race now,a race where we’re already starting out behind.”

Twenty-Four

The Pentagon, Washington, D.C.

That Same Time

The cavernous Emergency Conference Room seemed oddly vacant now to Jonas Murphy. Only the most senior members of the U.S.national security establishment—basically just the defense secretary, the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the directorof national intelligence—had been allowed inside for this secure videoconference with NORAD’s top commanders. The rows ofchairs ordinarily set aside for aides and other officials sat empty. Instead, relayed by satellite from their command postinside Cheyenne Mountain, the televised images of General Keith Makowski and his Canadian deputy, Lieutenant General PeterGowan, looked out from the ECR’s large central screen.

“Your most recent reports don’t exactly make reassuring reading, gentlemen,” Defense Secretary Bill Taylor observed, holdingup a sheaf of documents marked top secret.

On-screen, Makowski nodded. “That’s true, Mr. Secretary.” He looked dead serious. “Then again, Pete and I didn’t write themto be reassuring. Just accurate.”

Beside him, Gowan leaned forward, bringing his lean features a little closer to the camera. “Unfortunately, happy talk from us won’t change the situation we face,” he said. “The harsh reality is that these repeated Russian probes of our airspace are imposing very serious strains on NORAD’s forces and readiness levels. Remember, intercepting incoming Russian reconnaissance aircraft, especially those trying to penetrate the Arctic coastlines of our two countries, requires very long flights and multiple air refueling operations—all in potentially hazardous weather conditions. Put in the simplest terms, the current need to fly these missions virtually around the clock is rapidly exhausting the endurance of both our pilots and our ground crews.”

“They’re also wearing the shit out of our aircraft,” Makowski added. “Look, it’s hard enough to keep the Alaska-based F-22Raptors flight-ready during normal winter conditions. They’re beautiful machines, but they’re doggone temperamental—especiallywith their stealth features, like those special radar-absorbent skin coatings.”

Murphy knew that was true. As DNI, he had access to every piece of classified information produced by the U.S. military. Evenat the best of times, some F-22 squadrons had only around half of their fighters ready to fly, with the rest down for neededmaintenance.

“As of right now, this increased ops tempo is sidelining more and more of our Raptors, both with regular mechanical issuesand weather-related skin damage,” Makowski continued. “If Moscow keeps pushing this hard, in a week, or maybe less, I’ll bedamned lucky to be able to put a third of my aircraft out on the flight line.”

“The same goes double for the RCAF,” Gowan agreed. “Our CF-18 Hornets are more than forty years old now. Just to keep enoughaircraft flight-ready at our four remote operating locations, we’re constantly having to rotate fighters and pilots forwardfrom our main bases at Cold Lake in Alberta and Bagotville in Quebec.” His eyes darkened. “The situation simply isn’t sustainable,at least not if the Russians continue probing our perimeter this way for much longer.”

Taylor nodded somberly. “I get that, General Gowan.” He looked up at the two faces on-screen. “What I need now from both ofyou is an assessment of Moscow’s possible reasons for this sudden surge of air reconnaissance activity along our borders.”

“Look, I don’t have a crystal ball to read that asshole Zhdanov’s mind,” Makowski replied. “But I can tell you what Pete and I are most worried about.”

Taylor nodded. “Go on, General.”

“We’re worried that Russians could be wearing our defenses down deliberately,” Makowski said. “That they’re using provocativemeasures just short of open hostilities to test our air defense system—and find its breaking point.” He looked grim. “Whenyou put that possibility together with the fact that the whole fricking Russian strategic bomber and fighter force has goneon high alert, well, it paints a real ugly picture.”

Murphy lowered his own gaze to hide his expression. The CIA-provided intelligence which suggested that the Russian patrolaircraft were only searching for their own stolen stealth bomber prototype was tightly restricted, as was the video of Petrovsupposedly offering to sell the PAK-DA to the United States. And as it was, neither Makowski nor Gowan were in that loop.He wondered how a fuller understanding of the possible situation might change their views. Then again, he thought with aninner shrug, maybe it wouldn’t matter to them. Several of those who were already cleared to know about Petrov’s claimed defection,including General Neary, the Air Force chief of staff, were inclined to think the whole story was nothing more than classicRussian disinformation, part of a typical maskirovka operation to mislead Moscow’s adversaries about its true plans and intentions.

“We’re drawing up plans now to reinforce you with fighter squadrons and more tankers from other bases in the continental UnitedStates,” Taylor assured the two NORAD commanders.

Makowski nodded. “We appreciate that, Mr. Secretary. And we can sure use every new plane you send our way.” He spread his hands. “But no matter how much you expedite those reinforcements, it’s still going to take several days to move the aircraft, the equipment, spare parts, and munitions required to support them, and their personnel to where we need them. And even then, we’ll have to run the arriving pilots and ground crews through some intensive refresher training before they can be assigned to intercept missions. Flying safely in the kind of severe weather conditions our guys are facing right now isn’t easy.”

“I imagine not,” Taylor said quietly. He sighed. “All right, gentlemen, all we can ask is that your pilots continue to holdthe line for now—at least until the additional squadrons we’re deploying are ready to relieve them.”

“We’ll do our best,” Makowski promised. “Our people are dead tired, for sure. But morale is still high. We’re not going tolet any Russian son of a bitch slip through unchallenged. Not while we have the watch.”

Deep in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge

A Short