Who the hell shot off that missile? Hunt wondered as he shifted in his desk chair and rubbed his eyes. The door to his outer office was closed to shut out the noise of the constantly ringing telephones and computer signals. He had been reading the briefing papers from the Defense Intelligence Agency, the National Security Agency and the CIA, complete with a cover memo from the Director of National Intelligence for the past hour, and he didn’t like what he saw.
Every staff member whose shop had anything to do with Southeast Asia, weapons proliferation or terrorism issues had been scouring their sources for the last two days trying to figure out who had the brains, or lack of them, to lob a cruise missile that just might ignite a nuclear war.
He glanced at his speed dial and punched the fourth button on the phone.
“Ted Jameson here.”
“Hey Ted, it’s Hunt. You got a minute?”
“Sure. In fact, I was just about to call you.”
“Come on down. I want to show you a report I got from a back channel at ISI. At least it’s from a source I think I can trust.”
“Is it big?”
“Sure looks like it.”
“I’ll be right down.”
Hunt gathered up his reports, tossed them into the safe and spun the dial. He grabbed his leather folder, a must-have for everyone in the building. He never knew when he’d be yanked into a meeting and might need to take notes. He nodded to his secretary and headed out toward the office of Theodore Jameson, special assistant to the president for Near East and South Asian affairs.
He liked Ted, even if he was a bit stuffy at times. Then again, the man had spent his life in academia, either teaching or doing research over at the Center for Strategic and International Studies between assignments for various administrations. He had served at both the State Department and the National Security Councils of two presidents. And when their party was out of office, you could also find him on Fox News earning a tidy sum as an analyst.
As he hurried down the long hallway of the Old Executive Office Building, Hunt glanced at the door knobs. He had always been a history buff, and when he got word of his transfer to The White House, he had made it a point to read up on its architecture and culture.
Finding particular rooms where certain treaties had been signed or important conferences had played out had turned into a bit of a hobby. He reflected on the fact that the Empire building had been built in the late 1800’s for the State, War and Navy Departments. The offices of each department had their own distinctive insignia on the knobs of every door. A pair of anchors on the door knobs meant that office had been assigned to Navy personnel. His office had door knobs from the War Department. That figured.
He headed along the black and white tile corridor with its sixteen foot ceilings, cast iron pilasters and columns and turned down the ornate curved staircase with the brass railing on the top of the banister. He remembered the story about the curved brass and how it had been added when Secretary of War Taft had slipped on the steps and asked for an extra rail.
As he jogged down the stairs, Hunt thought he could get all the workout he needed just going to meetings rather than hitting the health club in the basement. After all, the OEOB had two miles of corridors.
The building was home to the official office of the vice president, although he had an office in the West Wing along with the other big boys like the chief of staff, the press secretary and the national security advisor, Austin Gage. But most of the staffs of the Office of Management and Budget, the speechwriters, political office, the advance team and the NSC were here, along with the medical folks, and even the frame shop.
The OEOB was just across the West Executive driveway from the West Wing, so the two buildings combined were known as “The White House.” Hunt was proud to be working here. An assignment at the Pentagon was fine, but being detailed to the White House staff was an honor, even if it meant being on call 24/7.
He opened the door to Ted’s office. The secretary looked over and smiled. “Good morning Colonel Hunt. Go right in. He’s expecting you.”
Ted glanced up from his briefing papers. “Pull up a chair, Hunt, and take a look at this.”
Hunt slid his lean six foot two frame into a dark green leather chair, shifted forward and grabbed a report. He read it quickly and muttered, “Oh shit! Three cruise missiles? Stolen? How in the hell . . . ?”
Ted leaned back and gripped the arms of his chair. “My contact says it had to be a clever inside job. No militant group just waltzes into a Pakistani Depot and makes off with those missiles and their launch vehicles. Problem is, we don’t know who took them, where they are or what they want to use for target practice.
Considering the problems over there, my best bet is one of those militant groups that’s been killing and harassing those poor people on the Indian side of Kashmir for decades. They’re getting more and more sophisticated in their approach. Sometimes they get as far as Delhi and Bombay. Well, it was Bombay then. Now it’s Mumbai. Anyway, remember that attack years back on the Indian Parliament, then the big one that killed hundreds of people in that city?”
“Yeah, I remember all of that. We were afraid they’d go to war over the last one.”
“We dodged the devil on that one. But now that both sides have been trying to cool things down with talk about more trade and opening the highways again, the militants don’t like it. Those guys don’t want peace. They want their land back.”
“You know, I’ve been focusing on North Korea, Iran, and Syria. Now we’re all crashing around trying to figure out India, Pakistan and Kashmir.” Hunt uttered a sigh and glanced at the mound of papers on Ted’s desk. “Those militant groups . . . you’d think that one day they’d wake up and figure out that that their own people aren’t all that hot for this whole Jihad routine. I mean, after the elections in Afghanistan, Iraq, Kuwait, Egypt . . . and all the talk about democracy . . . although it hasn’t worked out so well in Egypt, but still . . .”
“It’s not that easy. Democracy presupposes an ordered society,” Ted suggested.
“Okay, so it takes a while.”
Ted took a sip of coffee and leaned back.
Hunt continued, “It’s bad enough to worry about a bunch of terrorists getting hold of a couple of cruise missiles, but look at the other weapons they’ve got over there. I mean, India’s got the PRITHVI nukes. Pakistan’s been testing that Shaheen 2 that can send a nuclear warhead to Delhi, and they won’t sign on to a no-first-use deal. I’m afraid they could decide to stage a pre-emptive strike because India has so many conventional forces, and they may want to get a head start.”
“And there’s another problem. A big one,” Ted said. “I’m afraid the Indians feel that if we can hit a country like Iraq that’s far away because we suspected they had nukes and terrorists, why can’t they hit a neighbor they know has nukes and terrorists?”
Hunt raked his fingers through his hair. “I hear you. The thing is, I think there are a hell of a lot of military types in Pakistan who are sympathetic to the guys in Kashmir. Think about what could happen if that bunch took over . . . and controlled the nukes.”
“Controlled the nukes? No way.” Ted pointed to another paper on his desk. “ISI says they have pulled back from supporting the extremists.”
“Obviously, that’s not happening,” Hunt said. “They used to back them all the time. Then when things got rough, they did it secretly. Now they may say they’re backing off, but it doesn’t look that way to me.”
“The president publicly banned most of those cells,” Ted countered. “The other thing is that Pakistan has been spending a third of its budget on defense, and their economy is just now starting to improve, so there’s a lot of pressure to kick in money for economic development instead. That’s why we’ve seen the olive branches to India.”
“But that just makes the militants even madder, to say nothing about that crackdown years ago on A. Q. Kahn and his boys who were selling their nuclear technology all over the place.” Hunt paused for a moment and added, “So you think it’s a rogue group. I think it goes deeper than that. But what’s the bottom line here? Do you think we can get India to hold their fire until we figure out who launched that missile?”
“Who the hell knows? I will say this, though. If the reports are true, and they took three weapons, we’ve got to find those other missiles and fast”
“Look, I want to head over and talk to Stock about this and give him a heads-up on the other two missiles.”
“I hear he’s pretty tied up with the Japanese state visit. I don’t think you’ll get in today.”
“I’m going to try. I also need to brief him on that House Armed Services Subcommittee hearing this morning.”
Ted got up from his desk and walked with Hunt to the door. “And how was it? Anything new going on?”
“Actually yes. It’s amazing. And you would have been blown away by the woman giving the testimony.”
“Woman?”
“Yep. Seems she’s the Project Director over at Bandaq Technologies, and she’s got on a new technology for missile defense.”
“We’ve blown an awful lot of money on that stuff already, and nothing works all the time. Why would hers be any different?” Ted asked.
“I’m not sure. But if I can carve out some time, I’m going to head over there and try to find out. I’ll tell you one thing, though. If this new system of hers does work, it could change a hell of a lot around here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if her stuff is for real, it means the president’s layered network of defense systems turns into an actual shield for all kinds of missiles.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it” Ted said skeptically.
“Okay. Fine. But the way I see it, if there’s ever a war going on and one side gets a hold of this thing, it completely alters the balance of power.”