Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 01 by Flight of the Old Dog (v1.1) Page A

forbidden
subject.”
                 “Then
permit me to speak,” Brent said.
“Consider this a message from my government to yours—you need not reply.” Brent
interlaced his fingers and let his arms rest on the chair’s wide armrests.
                 “The
Pentagon is convinced, on what I feel is sketchy information, that your
government is responsible for the destruction of an American reconnaissance
satellite and an American RC-135 aircraft.”
                 Karmarov
said immediately, “My government has already categorically denied any
involvement—”
                 “Yes,
Ambassador, I know,” Brent interrupted. He picked up his brandy snifter, passed
his nose over it, letting the palm of his left hand warm the liqueur. He
settled back into his chair.
                 “Allow
me to be frank with you, Ambassador,” Brent said. Karmarov’s eyes widened. “I
am not a friend of my country’s military hierarchy. I believe it was
Montesquieu who once said, ‘If our world should ever be ruined, it will be by
the warriors.’ ”
                 “He
referred to Europe , I believe,” Karmarov said, his eyes
narrowing. Brent nodded.
                 “It
applies to affairs between our nations as well,” Brent continued. “Ambassador,
we are on the threshold of an historic arms-control agreement. In the two years
since those negotiations have been conducted, both sides have managed to keep
the uniformed military out of the negotiations.
                 We
have dealt on a level never before attempted—instead of throwing our bloody
swords on the table and staring into each other’s faces to see who will blink
first, like some medieval combat, we have sat down like men and talked true
disarmament.
                 “Ambassador,
in our lifetime we can see nuclear weapons eliminated. Not just a phony
controlled escalation, not even a numerical reduction. No, I talk of true
disarmament.”
                 Brent
swirled the brandy in his glass and stared into it. “But there are those who
see disarmament as a weakness. They seek to disrupt our efforts at every turn.
It is the actions of these ‘disrupters’ that I wish to warn your government
about, Ambassador.”
                 “What
. . . actions, Mr. Secretary?” Karmarov asked.
                 “As
I said, there are many in my government who are convinced of your culpability
in the loss of our aircraft,” Brent said. “They have conjured up a magical
laser device, straight out of one of our Hollywood films, and planted it on Ust-Kamchatkskiy,
at your research center at Kavaznya. Evidence or not, they have all but
convinced the President that this laser exists and that it threatens the
security of the United States .”
                 Karmarov
could not keep his eyes focused on Brent’s. Brent’s fingers curled a bit
tighter around the brandy snifter as he noticed Karmarov’s uneasiness.
                 Dammit, Brent thought. Could it be true? Is
it possible . . . ?
                “You must convince them, Mr.
Secretary,” Karmarov said quickly, forcing his eyes back toward Brent’s. “I
plead with you, my government is deeply and firmly committed to lasting peace
and the total elimination of all nuclear weapons from the face of the globe.
Nothing must interfere.” “I have come to offer you my guarantee,” Brent
continued, “that I will make every effort to achieve a workable arms agreement.
But I must tell you what is afoot. There is talk of matching the so-called
killer laser with a construct of our own. I’m not at liberty to give details,
but—”
                “Ice
Fortress /” Karmarov said suddenly. “The armed space platform! That’s what
your military means to deploy, isn’t it?”
                 Brent
sighed. “Again, I’m not at liberty to discuss—”