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CHAPTER SIX
Eight thousand miles to the west； on the Hawaiian island of Oahu； Pearl Harbor lay placid under the hot； tropical sun。 Overlooking the harbor were the navy's administrative buildings and the mand…and…control headquarters。 This morning； the Nimitz Building was off…limits to everyone except authorized personnel。 Armed Shore Patrol units were stationed both inside and out； in the long； cool corridors and in front of the closed doors to the briefing room。
The briefing room was the size of a gymnasium and could easily acmodate three hundred people。 Today there were only thirty； all seated in the first few rows before the podium。 The need for heavy security was reflected in the medals and ribbons that decorated the uniforms of those in attendance。 Representing every branch of the armed services； they were the senior officers of the Pacific theater； responsible for perceiving and eliminating any threat from the shores of San Diego to the Strait of Taiwan in Southeast Asia。 Each was a battle…tested bat veteran who had seen more than his share of conflict。 None had any patience with politicians or theorists； which is to say they did not suffer fools gladly。 They relied on their own expertise and instincts and respected only those who had proven themselves in the field。 That was why all eyes were riveted on the figure at the podium； General Frank Richardson； veteran of Vietnam and the Gulf War； and a dozen other sorties that the American people had all but forgotten about。 But not these men。 To them； Richardson； as the army representative on the joint chiefs of staff； was a true warrior。 When he had something to say； everyone listened。
Richardson gripped the lectern with both hands。 A tall； well…fleshed man； he was as solid now as he had been during his gridiron days at West Point。 With his iron…gray hair cut en brosse； cold； green eyes； and firm jaw； he was a public relation's man's dream pitchman。 Except that Richardson detested virtually everyone who hadn't bled for his country。
〃Gentlemen； let's summarize；〃 Richardson said； gazing over his audience。 〃It's not the Russians who worry me。 Most time it's hard to know who's running that damned country… the politicians or the mafiya。 You can't tell the players without a scorecard。〃
Richardson paused to savor the laughter brought on by his little joke。
〃But while Mother Russia is in the toilet；〃 he continued； 〃the same can't be said about the Chinese。 Past administrations were so eager to get into bed with them that they never saw through to Beijing's true intentions。 We sold them our most advanced puter and satellite technology without realizing that they had already infiltrated our major nuclear development and production facilities。 Los Alamos was a one…stop Wal…Mart for those guys。
〃I keep telling this administration… as I did the previous one… that China cannot be contained by nuclear force alone。〃
Richardson shifted his gaze to the back of the room。 A sandy…haired man in his early forties； dressed in civilian attire； was leaning against the wall； his arms crossed over his chest。 The general caught the civilian's almost imperceptible nod and changed gears on the fly。
〃But neither can the Chinese hope to challenge us by playing the nuclear card。 The nut is that they have an option： chemical…biological warfare。 Slide a bug into one of our major population centers and into our mand…and…control systems and presto！… instant chaos。 With plete plausible deniability on their part。
〃Therefore； it is imperative； gentlemen； that in your patrols； your oversight and intelligence sorties； you gather as much information as possible on China's bioweapons program。 The battles of the next war will not be won or lost in the field or on the seas… at least at first。 They will be waged in the laboratories； where the enemy is measured in the trillions of battalions and can be mounted on the head of a pin。 Only when we know where those battalions are created； nourished； sustained； and deployed from can you dispatch your resources to eliminate them。〃
Richardson paused。 〃I thank you for your time and attention； gentlemen。〃
The man in the back did not participate in the outpouring of applause。 He did not stir when others in the audience surrounded the general； congratulating him； peppering him with questions。 Anthony Price； deputy director of the National Security Agency； always reserved his ments for the private moment。
As the officers dispersed； Richardson made his way to Price； who was thinking just how much the general resembled a preening rooster。
〃God； I love these guys！ You can smell the stink of war on them。〃
〃What I smell is that you almost blew it； Frank；〃 Price replied dryly。 〃If I hadn't caught your attention； you would have laid it out for them chapter and verse。〃
Richardson shot him a withering look。 〃Give me some credit； will you？〃 He pushed open the door。 〃e on。 We're running late。〃
They stepped out into the peerless blue day and walked swiftly along the gravel path that curved around the auditorium。
〃One day； Tony； the politicians will have to get it；〃 Richardson said grimly。 〃Running this country through public opinion polls is killing us。 Mention that you want to stockpile anthrax or Ebola and watch your numbers sink。 That's bullshit！〃
〃Old news； Frank；〃 Price replied。 〃You might recall that our biggest problem is verification。 Both we and the Russians agreed to have our biochem stockpiles monitored by international inspectors。 Our labs； research and manufacturing facilities； the delivery systems… everything was out in the open。 So the politicians don't have to ‘get' anything。 As far as they're concerned； bioweapons are a dead issue。〃
〃Except when they e back to bite them on the ass；〃 Richardson said caustically。 〃Then they'll be screaming； ‘Where are ours？' 〃
〃And you'll be able to tell them； won't you？〃 Price replied。 〃With a little help from the good doctor Bauer。〃
〃Thank Christ for guys like him；〃 Richardson said through clenched teeth。
Behind the auditorium was a small； circular landing pad。 A mercial Jet Ranger helicopter with civilian markings sat waiting； the rotors spinning lazily。 When the pilot saw his passengers； he began to warm up the turbos。
Price was about to duck into the passenger partment when Richardson stopped him。
〃This business in Venice；〃 he said over the growing whine of the engines。 〃Did we take it on the chin？〃
Price shook his head。 〃The hit came down as arranged。 But there was an unexpected development。 I'm expecting an update shortly。〃
Richardson grunted and followed Price into the cabin； strapping himself into his seat。 As much as he respected Bauer and Price； they were still civilians。 Only a soldier knew that there were always unexpected developments。
The sight of the Big Island from two thousand feet never failed to stir Richardson。 In the distance was the lush Kona Coast； with its grand hotels moored like great ocean liners along the seaside。 Farther inland were the black plains of hardened lava； as foreboding as the lunar landscape。 In the center of what appeared to be sheer desolation was the fountainhead of life： the Kilauea volcano； its crat