“The economy in this country will screech to a halt. Entire industrial sectors dependent exclusively on the Internet will have no means of surviving. The others will be severely compromised. The impact will inevitably lead to massive unemployment, an enormous reduction in the availability of credit, a recession the likes of which would make your Depression in the 1930s look like a momentary hiccup.
“Panic,” he says. “Widespread panic. A run on the banks. Looting of grocery stores. Rioting. Massive crime. The outbreak of diseases. All semblance of civil order gone.
“And I have not even mentioned military and national security capabilities. Your ability to track terrorists. Your surveillance capabilities. Your highly sophisticated air force will be grounded. Your missile-launching capability? No more. Radar and sonar? The high-tech telecommunications capabilities in your military? Gone.
“The United States will be vulnerable to attack in ways it has never been before,” he says. “Your military defenses will be at nineteenth-century levels against enemies with twenty-first-century capabilities.”
Like Russia. And China. And North Korea.
Dieter Kohl raises a hand. “If the Internet were permanently taken down, then it would be a…a catastrophe of epic proportions. But these problems would be fixed. It is not as if America would forever lose the Internet.”
Augie nods, bows slightly. “You are correct, sir, that Internet capability would eventually be restored. It would probably take months to rebuild the entire network, from the Internet service providers all the way down to the end-use devices, all of whose systems, at every step of the chain, will have been destroyed completely. During that time, the United States will be vulnerable to a military attack or a terrorist strike as never before. During that time, entire sectors of the economy, heavily if not exclusively reliant on the Internet, will be destroyed. During that time, desperately sick people will not receive their treatments or their medical procedures. Every company, every bank, every hospital, every government office, every individual, will have to buy new devices because their old ones were destroyed.
“How long can the entire country go without clean drinking water? Without electricity? Without refrigeration? Without the ability to perform vital medical procedures and surgeries? Surely the United States would focus first on such critical needs and services, but how quickly could it restore even those things to a country of three hundred million people? Certainly not within a week, not to the entire country. Two weeks? Several months, more likely. The death toll, I should think, would be staggering.
“And even when Internet service is eventually restored, consider the damage that would be irreparable. Everyone in America will have lost all their savings, all their investments, all those records permanently erased. They will be utterly penniless except for the cash they happened to have on them when the virus struck. The same is true of their pensions, their health insurance, their welfare and Social Security benefits, their medical records. That data will never be recovered. Or if it were somehow recovered, without electronic data it would be an imperfect, unverifiable process—and it would take years. Years. How long can a person go without money?
“And if people do not have money, how can any sector of the economy remain viable? Not a single store on any street in this country, from your Fifth Avenues and your Magnificent Miles and your Rodeo Drives down to the smallest stores in the smallest towns—how can any of them exist without customers? To say nothing of the Internet-based sectors of the industry. There will be nothing, absolutely nothing, left of the American economy.”
“Great God,” Chancellor Richter mumbles. “It’s much worse than I had imagined.”
“It’s worse than anyone could imagine,” says Augie. “The United States of America will become the largest third-world country on earth.”
Chapter
61
Augie leaves my two guests, Prime Minister Noya Baram and Chancellor Juergen Richter, dazed and silenced. Richter removes his suit jacket, revealing his vest, and again wipes his forehead with a handkerchief. Noya serves herself a large glass of water.
“Why…” Richter brings a hand to his chin, rubbing it. “Why would Russia do this?”
If it’s Russia, I think to myself.
“Is it not obvious?” asks Noya Baram after a long drink of water, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
“To me it is not. Is there a military component here? If America’s military capabilities are compromised, if her infrastructure is in tatters—does that make the United States vulnerable to a military attack? It cannot be. Can it? Russia would attack the United States? Surely…” He waves a hand. “Surely the United States—perhaps she would be momentarily vulnerable, yes, but surely America would rebuild her might. And then, of course, there is Article 5.”
Under Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty, an attack on one NATO nation is an attack on all. An attack on the United States could trigger a world war.
Theoretically, at least. That doctrine has never been put to the ultimate test. If Russia disabled our military infrastructure and followed it up by hitting us with nuclear weapons, would our nuclear NATO members—Germany, for example, or the UK or France—respond in kind against Russia? It would test our alliance as never before. Each one of those countries, should it do so, would be guaranteed a retaliatory nuclear strike.
That’s why it’s so important for Richter to realize that Germany could be next, that he can’t let Russia—or whoever is responsible—get away with this.
“But who is Russia’s greatest impediment?” Noya asks. “Whom does Russia fear the most?”
“NATO,” says Richter.
Noya’s shoulders rise. “Well, yes—yes, Juergen. Yes, NATO’s expansion to the borders of Russia is of great concern to them. But in Russia’s eyes, and of course I mean no disrespect, Juergen—but in Russia’s eyes, when it sees NATO, it sees America. America, first and foremost, and then its allies.”
“So what does Russia gain?” I get out of my chair, unable to sit still. “I can understand Russia wanting to disable us. To set us back. To leave us wounded. But destroy us?”
“Jonny,” says Noya, setting down her water. “During the Cold War, the United States—you always believed that the Soviets wanted to destroy you. And they assumed the same of you. A lot has changed over the last twenty-five, thirty years. The Soviet empire collapsed. Russia’s military degraded. NATO expanded to Russia’s borders. But has anything really changed? Russia feels as threatened by you as ever. Ultimately, given the chance, do you not think it would be a viable option once more? Are you willing to risk being wrong?” Her head tilting to the side, a heavy sigh released, she says, “You have no choice but to prepare for the possibility of a direct strike on America.”
It’s almost unfathomable. Almost. But my job is to prepare for the worst, even as I work for the best. And anyone who thinks he fully understands President Chernokev is mistaken. The man plays a long game. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t take a shortcut if he could.
Chancellor Richter checks his watch. “We are still one delegation short,” he says. “I would have thought they’d be here by now.”
“They have a few things on their minds,” I say.
Alex Trimble walks into the room. I turn to him.
“They’ve arrived, Mr. President,” he says. “The Russians are here.”
Chapter
62
The convoy of black SUVs pulls into the driveway. Russian security agents emerge from the first SUV, conferring with Jacobson and others from Secret Service.
I stand ready to receive them, one thought dominating all others:
This is how wars begin.