Sky Masters полностью

Curtis could not help but smile at the casual, almost backwoods code words the President liked to use during conversations like this: “laddie” was this month’s code word for the National Security Council, whom he wanted assembled in the White House Situation Room immediately. To his communications officer, Curtis said, “Call the White House communication office and get the NSC in the Situation Room ASAP.”

The phone fine began to come alive at that moment, and Curtis motioned for someone to get him a glass of water as he settled in. Two or three calls to get a better picture of the situation, then formulate a plan of action during the car ride to the White House. It was as it always was: he was cut out of the loop for most of the really important policy decisions, but when the shit hit the fan, he was expected to have all the answers. Well, he told himself, he was going to have all the answers when the National Security Council met.

The next call came from Guam: “General Stone here, sir.”

“Rat, got a report for me?”

“The Ranger got jumped by B-6 bombers and Q-5 or B-7 fighters, sir,” Stone replied. The exhaustion in his voice was obvious, even over the scrambled satellite link. “We didn’t see them coming until about a hundred and fifty miles out. We had the radar planes bug out, and we thought the Navy fighters turned them away, but they weren’t after the radar planes — they were going after ships right away. Only two of the first flight of six were armed for air defense; the other four were carrying two each C601 missiles as well as heatseeking air-to-airs…”

“Are you sure they were 601s?”

“Pretty sure, judging by the flight profile and the damage they caused. They were a hell of a lot bigger than C801s or Exocets.”

“No evidence of… special warheads?” It was possible that the C601 missiles were carrying nuclear warheads but they simply failed to go off.

Curtis could hear a genuine sigh of relief even through the static-charged transmission: “No, thank God.” The alternative, as Curtis well knew, could have been much worse. In 1946, during secret tests code-named OPERATION CROSSROADS, the Navy wanted to see the effects of a twenty-kilo- ton nuclear blast on an aircraft carrier. CV-3 USS Saratoga was towed out to Bikini Atoll and the device set off five hundred yards away. The blast of that one warhead threw the forty-thousand-ton aircraft carrier nearly fifty feet out of the water, pushed it sideways nearly a half-mile, crushed its seventeen-inch armor plating and caved in the flight deck, then sank it in seven hours. Ranger would have suffered much the same fate.

“We got pictures of the aircraft on the ground in Zamboanga after the attack — they were B-6 bombers all right,” Stone continued, shaking Curtis out of his reverie. “The Chinese put their top-of-the-line maritime-attack plane in Zamboanga. Each one had two C601 missiles and two PL-7 or PL-9 missiles. No definite ID on the fighters — only the B-7, F-8, or the A-5 with air refueling have the legs these guys had to go after Ranger from that distance. We also got pictures of Y-8 reconnaissance planes and PS-5 antisubmarine-warfare planes out there.”

The Chinese were moving a major naval air force into the south Philippines, Curtis decided. With this force they could seal off the entire area and conduct bombing raids on the government bases on Mindanao. Curtis asked, “Do they own the Celebes Sea, Rat Killer?”

“I’m afraid so, sir,” Stone replied. “Air, land, sea, everything. We gotta go in hard if we want to have access.” Curtis knew what that meant — no more fucking soft probes, no more RC-135s no matter how many escorts they had. Sending Sterett into the Celebes Sea now would be a big mistake. “I copy. Looks like Doctor Masters’ gadgets are going to be the only intel we get for a while.”

“He’s giving us some great poop, sir,” Stone said. “His gadgets are working just fine. I’ve already transmitted some pictures to you via Offutt; they should be in your hands very soon. You should have some more detailed shots of the Chinese positions in Zamboanga within a couple hours.” “Good. I meet with the boss in thirty minutes; he’s going to want to see them. What else have you got for me?” “With Masters’ gear set up here, General Harbaugh from Third Air Division, General Houston from Fifteenth Air Force, and I have already played out a couple strike scenarios for the south Philippines,” Stone replied. “We’re definitely going to need the Air Battle Force — and then some — to dislodge our Oriental buddies.”

“What kind of scenarios have you come up with?” Curtis asked. “Can you send me some of your data?”