The Paris Option - Страница 28

As the man stepped into the room, another appeared behind. Smith stared. An older man, several inches over six feet tall. He was stooped, as if he had spent his lifetime talking to much shorter people or hunched over a desk or a laboratory bench. In his early sixties, he had thinning black hair that was more than half gray, and a long, lean face aged into sharp planes and ridges. A face and characteristic stoop that Smith knew only from the photographs Fred Klein had supplied him, but had been burned into his mind forever by the bombing of the Pasteur Institute.

Thérèse Chambord stared up as he walked into the room. Her right hand searched blindly behind until she grabbed the end of the iron bed for support. She, too, was shocked. But the tall man was not. Eagerness filled his face, and he rushed to Thérèse. The great French scientist Dr. Emile Chambord pulled his daughter to her feet and enfolded her in his arms.

PART TWO

Chapter Fourteen

Aboard the Aircraft Carrier Charles de Gaulle

The Mediterranean Sea

Two hundred miles south-southwest of Toulon, France, the nuclear-powered Charles de Gaulle cruised silently through the night, a great beast of the sea, sleek, graceful, and lethal. Only its running lights were on, and its matching pair of PWR Type K15 nuclear-pressure water reactors propelled the carrier at a steady twenty-seven knots, leaving behind an iridescent wake as straight as a razor cut.

The Charles de Gaulle was the newest and largest addition to the navies of Western Europe, and anyone observing, who knew the telltale signs, would realize something significant was happening aboard that Wednesday night. For in the air above, ten Rafale M fighter jets and three E-2C Hawkeye early-warning aircraft were aloft, creating an aerial screen, while the crewmen on duty at the Aster 15 surface-to-air missiles and the eight Giat 20F2 20mm guns were on full alert.

Below decks in a small, secure conference room, five military men, wearing the uniforms of general officers in the armies of the key European Union nations, were listening with varying degrees of concern to their host, who was not only a French general but also Deputy Supreme Allied Commander in Europe for NATO Le Comte Roland la Porte. Hulking and regal, the general stood with his pointer poised before a large map of Europe as he surveyed his fellow generals with his unblinking pale blue eyes.

"This, gentlemen," he said, tapping the chart with his pointer, "shows all the new multinational consortiums that have arisen across Europe to manufacture advanced military weapons and systems."

To his annoyance, he was addressing his guests in English, an insult to French, the historic language of diplomats, the mother tongue of Western civilization. But the truth was, more than half of the EU's military leaders did not speak French well enough to understand him.

So in English, but definitely with a French accent, the massive general continued: "BAE Systems in the UK. EADS in France, Germany, and Spain. Finmeccanica in Italy. Thaes in France and the UK. Astrium in Sweden, which, as you know, is a coalition of both BAE and EADS. European Military Aviation in the UK and Italy. So far, these corporations have further combined with others, as well as among themselves, to produce the Eurofighter aircraft, the NH-90 military transport helicopter, the Tiger combat helicopter, the Stormshadow cruise missile, and the Meteor air-to-air missile. Under discussions that we hope will come to fruition are the Galileo global-positioning system and the Sostar airborne ground-surveillance system."

La Porte slapped the pointer against his palm for emphasis. "I think you will agree that it is an impressive list of cooperation and accomplishment. Add to it the recent political support for pooling all of our research and development funds to create a European program to match Washington's, and I think we can all see the military handwriting on the wall."

There was silence as the generals glanced warily among themselves. Finally, Lieutenant General Sir Arnold Moore, in his dry, clipped, very British voice, asked, "Aside from increasing European trade at the expense of the United States, what's your point, Roland?" General Moore had cobwebbed cheeks, a high forehead, and the same long, narrow aquiline nose that reminded those who knew English history of the first Lancaster king, Henry IV.

The French general turned his gaze upon the British general approvingly. He liked that question and had hoped someone would ask. "Quite simply, Sir Arnold, I believe we are swiftly approaching the time when we can and must have a fully combined European military, so strong that it will no longer need the Americans. Any Americans at all. Completely independent from them. We are ready to resume our rightful leadership role."

As the Englishman registered doubt about what he was hearing, General Valentin Gonzalez of Spain narrowed his eyes, cautious. He was a dapper, swarthy man with a jaunty tilt to his general's cap. "You mean an army beyond the sixty thousand combined troops that we now have under the command of the Rapid Reaction Force, General La Porte? After all, the EU controls it. Don't we already have basically what you're proposing?"

"Non!" La Porte said bluntly. "It's not enough. The Rapid Reaction Force is intended only for deployment on humanitarian, rescue, and peacekeeping missions, and even then it still requires U.S. weapons, support systems, and communications systems so it can operate. Besides, it's too damn small to handle any major problems. What I'm arguing for here is the full integration of the militaries of all our member nations, the entire two million soldiers, so that we have all the capabilities of a self-sufficient army, navy, and air force."

"But to what purpose, Roland?" Sir Arnold wanted to know. He crossed his arms and frowned. "Why? Aren't we all NATO allies anyway, working for a peaceful world? Competing in many ways, yes, but with our military enemies in common?"

"Our interests are not always the same as those of the United States." La Porte stepped closer to the group, his enormous girth momentarily intimidating. "In fact, in my opinion, they are far from the same now, as I have been trying to convince the EU for some years. Europe was, and is, too great to be a mere satellite of the United States."

Sir Arnold repressed a chuckle. "Remind your own country of that, Roland. After all, this grand aircraft carrier, this futuristic French warship that's carrying us, has made-in-the-USA steam catapults and arresting cables, since nothing else is available. And the Hawkeye surveillance and early-warning planes that you've got up there circling are also made in the United States. Rather critical points, wouldn't you say?"

Italian General Ruggiero Inzaghi had been listening carefully. He had large dark eyes, as hard as flint, and a wide mouth that was habitually set in a straight, no-nonsense line. He had been studying the big Frenchman, but now he turned to the Englishman. "I think General La Porte has a point. The Americans often brush off our immediate and long-range needs, especially when they don't easily coincide with what they think they want."

The Spaniard, General Valentin Gonzalez, wagged a finger at the Italian. "Your own problem in Albania some years ago wouldn't be on your mind, would it, Ruggie? As I recall, it wasn't just the United States that had no interest in such a minor matter. Neither did the rest of Europe."

General Inzaghi retorted, "With a fully integrated European army, we'd back each other with all our concerns."

"As do each of the American states, which once were so contentious that they fought a long, savage civil war among themselves," La Porte pointed out. "They still disagree, but they're all one on the larger issues. Consider, gentlemen, that we Europeans have an economy one-third larger than that of the United States, and most of our citizens enjoy levels of medical, educational, and social benefits that are superior, too. There are more of us, and we're better off. Yet we still can't engage in a crucial military operation alone. That was made painfully clear by our inability to deal with the crises in the Balkans. Once more, we had to go to Washington with our hats in our hands. It's too humiliating. Are we to remain stepchildren forever to a nation that owes its very existence to us?"

The only general in the conference room who still had taken no part in the discussion, preferring, it seemed, to watch and listen, was Bundeswehr General Otto Bittrich. As usual, the expression on his rawboned face was thoughtful. His blond hair was nearly white now, but his ruddy complexion seemed decades younger than his fifty-two years. He cleared his throat, his Prussian expression severe.

"The Kosovo campaign occurred in an area that's cost Europe millions of dead over the centuries," he said with a sweep of his gaze to make certain that he had their undivided attention, "a tumultuous region, dangerous to all our interests. The Balkans are, after all, our powder keg. Everyone knows this. Yet to do what was necessary to control the fighting in Kosovo and stabilize Europe again, it was Washington that had to provide eighty-five percent of the equipment and systems." The German general's voice rose with indignation. "Yes, our member nations have some two million soldiers, fully operational air forces, and excellent navies, all well equipped to fight but what good are they? They stay home and inspect the space between their toes. Useless! We could go back into the past and fight World War Two again, Ja. We could even destroy cities with dumb bombs now. But without the Americans, as General La Porte has correctly said, we can't transport troops and materiel to a modern war, much less fight it. We have no operational planning capability. No command structures. Technically, electronically, logistically, and strategically, we're mastodons. I am, in truth, embarrassed by this. Aren't you, too?"