“At the time, they seem to have assessed it as more likely to be a minor equipment malfunction or a natural phenomenon than a genuine air contact,” Ivashin told him. “But my agent believes their views may have changed recently.”

“Why?”

“Because the Americans have just flown a special team into their joint Army and Air Force base near Anchorage—a team that apparently includes intelligence specialists . . . and scientists and engineers trained in exploiting and analyzing foreign aircraft and aviation technology.”

Rogozin took a short, sharp breath. “Well, that tears it,” he said quietly. He turned to Zhdanov with a worried look. “I’ll organize an armed reconnaissance mission over that area as rapidly as possible, Mr. President. We could be in a race now, a race where we’re already starting out behind.”

Twenty-Four

The Pentagon, Washington, D.C.

That Same Time

The cavernous Emergency Conference Room seemed oddly vacant now to Jonas Murphy. Only the most senior members of the U.S. national security establishment—basically just the defense secretary, the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the director of national intelligence—had been allowed inside for this secure videoconference with NORAD’s top commanders. The rows of chairs ordinarily set aside for aides and other officials sat empty. Instead, relayed by satellite from their command post inside Cheyenne Mountain, the televised images of General Keith Makowski and his Canadian deputy, Lieutenant General Peter Gowan, looked out from the ECR’s large central screen.

“Your most recent reports don’t exactly make reassuring reading, gentlemen,” Defense Secretary Bill Taylor observed, holding up a sheaf of documents marked top secret.

On-screen, Makowski nodded. “That’s true, Mr. Secretary.” He looked dead serious. “Then again, Pete and I didn’t write them to be reassuring. Just accurate.”

Beside him, Gowan leaned forward, bringing his lean features a little closer to the camera. “Unfortunately, happy talk from us won’t change the situation we face,” he said. “The harsh reality is that these repeated Russian probes of our airspace are imposing very serious strains on NORAD’s forces and readiness levels. Remember, intercepting incoming Russian reconnaissance aircraft, especially those trying to penetrate the Arctic coastlines of our two countries, requires very long flights and multiple air refueling operations—all in potentially hazardous weather conditions. Put in the simplest terms, the current need to fly these missions virtually around the clock is rapidly exhausting the endurance of both our pilots and our ground crews.”

“They’re also wearing the shit out of our aircraft,” Makowski added. “Look, it’s hard enough to keep the Alaska-based F-22 Raptors flight-ready during normal winter conditions. They’re beautiful machines, but they’re doggone temperamental—especially with their stealth features, like those special radar-absorbent skin coatings.”

Murphy knew that was true. As DNI, he had access to every piece of classified information produced by the U.S. military. Even at the best of times, some F-22 squadrons had only around half of their fighters ready to fly, with the rest down for needed maintenance.

“As of right now, this increased ops tempo is sidelining more and more of our Raptors, both with regular mechanical issues and weather-related skin damage,” Makowski continued. “If Moscow keeps pushing this hard, in a week, or maybe less, I’ll be damned lucky to be able to put a third of my aircraft out on the flight line.”