Piranha: Firing Point

All within a few hundred kilometers of the White China frontier.”

“Another couple million in fuel. They flying around or staying on the ground?”

“Ground. Under camouflage tarps. In bunkers built within the last few days. In tents. In barns. Wherever they can be hidden.”

“And other than that, all’s normal?”

“Nope,” Osgood said, his Harvard education sometimes undetectable amidst his yups and nopes.

The Thomas Jefferson Memorial loomed ahead, looking gloomy in the fading fall light and the overcast of the day.

“So what else?”

“This is Release 24.” Osgood referred to the top-secret classification designating information that could be shared only with the president and cabinet members and a few select agency heads, such as the director of NSA.

The only classification higher was Release 12, the president’s own classification.

“Okay.”

“The Red Chinese leadership has been evacuated from Beijing, lock, stock, and barrel. Beijing, governmentally speaking, is a ghost town.”

O’Shaughnessy paused to think this over. The Washington Monument was coming up ahead as the path verged away from the Tidal Basin.

“This is no exercise,” O’Shaughnessy finally said.

“Bingo. And you didn’t even go to Harvard.”

“Fuck you, Osgood.”

As another group of runners came toward them, the two men fell silent. When they were alone again, Osgood started in.

“President’s been briefed. She’ll be calling for Pink’s opinion.”

Bill Pinkenson, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, was an Army four-star general, a cavalryman, a tank guy.

Pinkenson was of medium height, tanned, good looking in a baby-faced way, an amazingly gregarious officer, quick with a joke. He didn’t have the kind of statuesque appearance that O’Shaughnessy had, yet once people met Pinkenson, they never forgot him. He was the consummate politician, and had been maneuvering through the Pentagon for decades, loving every minute of it. He and O’Shaughnessy had been close since the naval officer had first reported to duty in D.C., the Army officer having shaken O’Shaughnessy’s hand at their first meeting.

He’d insisted that he and Deanna tailgate with Pinkenson and his wife, Jackie, at the Army-Navy game the next weekend.

“And Pink’ll probably want your opinion,” Osgood said.

“Mine? Why?”

“Because the Navy’s going to have to weigh in on this thing.”

“Back up there. You’ve got the balloon going up in eastern Red China, the Reds preparing to jump over the line and retake White China. Civil War, round two. Except this time they mean to win.” The runners turned and headed east, along the mall, the Capitol Building a mile ahead of them. “Doesn’t sound like the Navy’s got much to do with this. Oh, sure, hopefully President Warner will decide to support the White Chinese, and we may even invade at Shanghai or anywhere else we get a beachhead. My special forces will be involved, the Marine Corps will be saddled up and put on the ground, and we’ll start up the ships of the Navforcepacfleet, get the transports fueled up and ready. We’ll even escort the Merchant Marine boys into the East China Sea. And of course, the carrier guys will get into this, flying air support for the beach landings. We’ll have ourselves a busy time of it, with a war like this. But compared to the Army, the Navy’s got an easy day. So why did you mention I’d have to render an opinion?”

“Think again. Something’s wrong.”

O’Shaughnessy paused, looking over at the Smithsonian as they ran by, the Air and Space Museum coming up on the right.

“Okay, I thought again. I don’t see anything wrong.”

“How about this? Why would the Reds begin to think they could get away with this? With your fleet and an Army rapid deployment force all ready to go next door in Japan, and the Reds are going to jump across the line and duke it out, force the Whites into the East China Sea? Just like that? What about Uncle Sam? Don’t they think we’ll do something? We’ll bring our fleet up to the White Chinese shoreline, offload a bunch of Marines and Army infantry and cavalry and artillery boys, with our jets pounding the sand with all kinds of smart bombs, and the Reds will be smashed. Why would they waste the effort? And if they didn’t see us as a threat, why are they doing this now? They would have done this ages ago. Your western Pacific fleet was all beefed up for this contingency, and the Reds knew that. So why, all of a sudden, is our fleet and RDF no big deal?”

Had Osgood been looking at O’Shaughnessy, he would have seen the admiral’s blank, piercing glare. For now, O’Shaughnessy just stared straight ahead at the Reflecting Pool in front of the Capitol.

“Far side?” he asked Osgood, indicating they should either turn back now or continue to the other side of the Capitol block by the Library of Congress and the Supreme Court.

“Yeah.”

O’Shaughnessy spoke. “Maybe the Reds believe they would overwhelm us with people — four million men to our half million. Their force is overwhelming.”