Shattered Trident (20 page)

31 August 2016

1155 Local Time

Pentagon City Metro Station

Arlington, Virginia

Senator Lowell Hardy stepped off the Yellow Line Metro train at the Pentagon City station and reluctantly took the escalator up to the street level. The thick heat of Washington in August poured down the angled steps, and Hardy took strength in the restaurant being close—just across the street and four blocks down.

He hadn’t picked Siné Irish Pub, although it was a good place to meet. Good faux-Irish food and decent Irish beer. Not too noisy to have a conversation, or too quiet to stand out.

He suppressed the last thought, but it was a mysterious message, after all. A fellow submariner and a friend of Jerry Mitchell’s wanted to meet. The matter was extremely urgent, and he had suggested noon at Siné. He hadn’t left a name, or number where he could be reached. Hardy wondered if he’d pick up the tab.

The message hadn’t mentioned red carnations, so Hardy had simply walked in, expecting to be met. Nobody came up to greet him, but there was a short line waiting to be seated, and he joined it. When it was his turn, he asked, “Reservation for Hardy, twelve o’clock?”

“Yes, sir,” the hostess answered brightly. “Your other party has already been seated.”

Hardy followed her to a booth, where a single man waited. In his late forties, maybe early fifties, Hardy judged, the stranger was fit, blond, with a broad round face that screamed “Russian!” He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt, but on him the clothes looked like a disguise. Hardy started to feel uneasy, but it was too late to back out now.

The hostess left, and the stranger offered his hand. Hardy took it automatically while the other man introduced himself, “Senator Lowell Hardy, I am Aleksey Igorevich Petrov,” in slightly accented English. “Thank you for coming.”

They both sat down, Hardy’s mind whirling. He’d been in Washington long enough to know that not all spy stories were fiction, but a meeting, out of the blue, with a Russian? The message said, “a former submariner.” And the name “Petrov” jarred old memories. And he was a friend of Jerry Mitchell.

Petrov had sat silently for the moment it took for Hardy to recognize the name. The senator finally said, “The captain of
Severodvinsk
?”

The Russian nodded solemnly. “Former captain, yes. On her first and only voyage. You and I have never met, but Jerry has spoken of you many times. He and I keep in touch by e-mail, and he was very proud when you were elected a senator. And now Jerry has his own command.”

“Yes, I was at the change of command ceremony when he took over.”

“He will make a good captain.” Petrov smiled. “Not that I am qualified to make such a judgment.”

“Jerry said the Russian Navy let you retire without punishment,” Hardy offered.

“Losing my command and eighteen of my crew was punishment enough,” Petrov replied softly. “I and the rest of the survivors will always be grateful to Captain Rudel, Jerry, and the rest of
Seawolf
’s crew.” Although he smiled, the lines around his eyes showed his melancholy.

Petrov shook off the mood and straightened a little. “I have stayed close to the navy and submarines since I retired. I am now a naval constructor at the Admiralteiskie Verfi shipyard in St. Petersburg. My government knows about my friends in the U.S. Navy, and when they offered me this task, I accepted gladly. I have a message. It is not an official communication, but this meeting has been approved by the highest levels of my government.”

Hardy had already decided to take Petrov at his word. Jerry had said good things about the guy. He’d trust Jerry’s judgment, but Hardy chose his words carefully. “Is there something that your Foreign Ministry doesn’t want to say to the State Department?”

Petrov didn’t have a chance to answer. The hostess appeared, and Hardy distractedly ordered a burger and iced tea.

As soon as she left, Petrov explained, “This is not a matter for either the Foreign Ministry or the State Department. It is best if they do not learn of it. In fact, it involves information we obtained from within the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force.”

Hardy couldn’t hide his expression, and Petrov paused for a moment, almost apologetically. “You can understand that we would not normally share this type of information with you, but in this urgent matter our interests coincide.”

What could be so important, Hardy wondered. Then he remembered the morning’s headlines. “Does this concern…” he paused, “the waters around China?”

Petrov leaned forward slightly and spoke softly but clearly. “Japan, South Korea, India, and Vietnam have entered into a secret military alliance to cripple China’s economy. They are using their submarines to sink Chinese merchant ships, and the Chinese Navy if they get in the way.”

Hardy had been about to sip his iced tea. Thankfully, Petrov’s bombshell had reached him before that happened. He quickly set the glass down as the possibilities swirled around him. “Nice. As long as they conceal themselves, the Chinese won’t know who to strike back at.”

“Correct,” Petrov answered. “And if they do, Japan and South Korea are U.S. allies, and your country must come to their defense. They can’t stay hidden forever, but if they can do it for long enough, they can cause tremendous damage.”

“Did this source mention why Vietnam and the others are doing this?”

The Russian shook his head. “I asked the same question. The information only refers to an ‘imminent Chinese threat.’ They may believe that if they don’t fight China now, they will have to later, when China is even stronger and they have no other option.” He smiled. “They also don’t have a very high opinion of America’s willingness to confront China.”

Hardy didn’t react to the last part. “When they do find out, China’s going to get really mad,” Hardy remarked, then caught himself. He wasn’t discussing the day’s headlines with a friend at lunch. This man was the unofficial and secret envoy of a foreign power. “I’m assuming you are confident of the information’s reliability.”

Petrov nodded silently.

“You know that immediately following this meeting, I’m going to give this information to my government’s intelligence service.”

“We’d rather it was passed directly to your decision-makers. That’s what your CIA would, or should do with it anyway. I believe your wife, Dr. Patterson, works closely with the national security adviser. We met, once, after the inquest was over. Please give her my regards.”

“I’ll consider your suggestion, but I make no promises,” Hardy answered. “I also can’t promise where the information will go once I’ve passed it on.”

“To your president, I hope,” Petrov replied, “and I ask for no conditions. But we believe the information is true. It is also in our best interest to convey this to your leadership. We have a long border with China. ‘If your neighbor’s house is on fire, you must look to your own property.’”

“Is that a Russian proverb?” Hardy asked.

“Chinese, actually.”

Hardy laughed, but agreed with the sentiment. Russia couldn’t be seen openly helping the United States, hence the covert nature of the communication.

“Is there anything you can offer that corroborates this information?”

Petrov looked puzzled for a moment, but then said, “If you mean some visible proof, watch the reactions of the Japanese, Vietnamese, and South Koreans in the next few days. They will react quickly and effectively, because they knew about this ahead of time, and similarly because they are sharing information.

“Also, I must apologize. I was chosen because of my personal contacts within the American Navy. My first choice was Captain Rudel, but he’s retired now. Evidently, he’s a history teacher in Ohio.”

Hardy nodded and laughed. “Tom wanted something a little less stressful. Somehow, I don’t know if a room full of high school kids qualifies. He also runs their NJROTC program at the school.”

“I am disappointed that I did not have the opportunity see him. If you are in contact with him, please give him my greatest respects and good wishes, likewise to Commander Mitchell. I know
North Dakota
is based in Hawaii. Since he was not available, Dr. Patterson or you were our next choice. I gather your wife has been very busy lately. I could not reach her.”

Hardy didn’t explain what Joanna was involved with. “I’m not offended, Captain. I’m glad to be on the same list with them.”

“Good. One other thing.” He held up a hardcover book. “With the Pacific so much in the news lately, I found this at Heathrow Airport while I was making the connection to come here.” He slid the volume across to Hardy. The cover appeared dark blue from a distance, but close up he could see it was actually a map of Asia and the Pacific. The title, in gold letters, was
Navies for Asia,
by Sajin Komamura.

Petrov said, “I read it on the flight, and it’s very informative.”

31 August 2016

1415 Local Time

The White House

Washington, D.C.

They waited in Kirkpatrick’s office.

“You had lunch at Siné and didn’t invite me?” Joanna looked angry and hurt. Hardy wasn’t sure whether she was serious or not. Better to play it straight.

“I couldn’t invite you. Besides, weren’t you busy here?” Hardy protested.

“Yes, and I had my usual turkey sandwich. I’m getting too many of my meals from the White House food service.” She sounded unhappy. “You could have called and asked, and I could have turned you down.”

“I had no idea what the meeting was about—none at all. I certainly didn’t imagine Alex Petrov was going to be there.”

“It would have been wonderful to see him again.”

“The idea was to keep a low profile. You would have made a fuss and hugged him, just like with Jerry.”

“You heard about that?” She sounded surprised. “At the squadron briefing? On Guam?”

“It’s a small community. Word gets around,” he said casually.

She shrugged. “I admit it. I’m a hugger.”

“And it’s one of your many virtues.”

Ray Kirkpatrick ducked his head in the door. “The president’s ready for you.”

It was only a short distance, but they still hurried. Hardy tried to keep his focus. This wasn’t his first trip to the Oval Office, but it wasn’t what he’d planned for the afternoon. The air seemed a little thin—at least that was one explanation for his light-headedness.

The president’s office was crowded. In addition to Myles and Milt Alvarez, the secretary of state, Andy Lloyd, and the director of national intelligence, Greg Alexander, were also waiting. Neither looked happy.

Myles met them almost as they came in the door. “Joanna, Senator Hardy … Lowell,” he corrected himself, while shaking their hands. “You’ve performed yet another valuable service.”

“The Russians contacted me, Mr. President. I can’t take credit for this.”

“But you carried the ball perfectly when they passed it to you. Please, have a seat.” Myles gestured to the two couches in the center of the room. Myles and Hardy shared one couch, while Alexander and Patterson sat across from them. There was plenty of room for Lloyd, but he remained standing. He looked like he wanted to pace, but was fighting it.

Alexander said, “The folks at CIA are still going through the CD that was tucked into the book he gave you, as well as examining the book itself. The disc has a series of reports from the source Petrov mentioned. It matches the story he told you, and we now have a name: the ‘Littoral Alliance.’ Plus we get a little bit of their timeline, but not much about the ‘imminent threat’ they’re so concerned about.”

“Imminent implies near-term, does it not? What, if anything, are the Chinese doing that could have all these nations so spooked?” Myles asked.

“If that’s even the correct word,” Lloyd grumbled. “The reports are in Russian, but apparently were translated originally from Japanese, and now into English.”

Alexander ignored the SecState’s comment and answered Myles’s question. “The only thing the Chinese are doing in the near term that we’re aware of is the large exercise in the South China Sea, and we already knew the Vietnamese were concerned enough about it to mine the Chinese carrier.”

Kirkpatrick volunteered a different definition. “A better word might be ‘alarmed,’ Mr. President. And whatever Vietnam knew has now convinced three other countries to join them in a covert war.”

“We’ll do our best to find out if there’s something going on besides the exercise,” Alexander assured them. “There’s always the possibility that it was being used as a distraction or cover.”

“Andy, do you have any questions for the senator?” inquired Myles.

Lloyd shook his head quickly. “No, sir, I don’t, and thank you for your service this afternoon, Senator.”

As Hardy nodded his acknowledgement, Lloyd continued. “To me, this is a logical move for the Russians. Like us, the last thing they need is China at war. If things got bad in China, the refugee problem alone could be disastrous for Russia.

“We have more influence in the region, with Japan and South Korea as formal allies, and our security arrangements with Taiwan. With this warning, we can work to limit the crisis and position ourselves to keep our people safe, and limit our own involvement.”

“Is that your recommendation, Andy?” asked the president.

“Boiled down to the basics, yes, sir. My staff is still drawing up our formal recommendations, but that’s what my experience says. Wars always last longer than the people who start them think they will, and the longer a war lasts, the more it spreads. What if North Korea tries to take advantage of the situation? Can Taiwan stay out of it even if it wants to? And what about the strains of a war on the Chinese economy? We know it’s fragile, and this ‘Littoral Alliance’ is chipping away at the supports.”

Myles held up his hands. “Too many questions, too little information. This meeting is about the Russians’ message, as delivered by the honorable senator from Connecticut.”

He turned to Hardy. “Given the nature of this message, I think we all would have liked to speak to the messenger ourselves. Still, I’m satisfied the Russians have provided information that they believe is true.” He stood, and the others did as well. Myles shook Hardy’s hand again. “Lowell, know you’ve got a friend here if you need one.”