Red Storm Rising (1986) by Tom Clancy Read Free Book Online

risk, while real, is less than the risk that we already face in our economy.”
    Sergetov leaned back in his leather chair. So, there it was: war was less risky than a cold, hungry peace. It had been decided. Or had it? Might some combination of other Politburo members have the power or prestige to reverse that decision? Could he dare to speak out against this madness? Perhaps a judicious question first.
    “Do we have the ability to defeat NATO?” He was chilled by the glib reply.
    “Of course,” Defense answered. “What do you think we have an army for? We have already consulted with our senior commanders.”
    And when you asked us last month for more steel for more new tanks, Comrade Defense Minister, was your excuse that NATO was too weak? Sergetov asked himself angrily. What machinations had taken place? Have they even spoken with their military advisers yet, or had the Defense Minister exploited his vaunted personal expertise? Had the General Secretary allowed himself to be bullied by Defense? And by the Foreign Minister? Had he even objected? Was this how the decisions were made to decide the fate of nations? What would Vladimir Ilych have thought of this?
    “Comrades, this is madness!” said Pyotr Bromkovskiy. The oldest man there, frail and past eighty, his conversation occasionally rambled about the idealistic times long before, when Communist Party members really believed that they were the leading wave of history. The Yezhovshchina purges had ended that. “Yes, we have a grave economic danger. Yes, we have a grave danger to the security of the State—but do we replace this with a greater danger? Consider what can happen—how long, Comrade Defense Minister, before you can initiate your conquest of NATO?”
    “I am assured that we can have our army fully ready for combat operations in four months.”
    “Four months. I presume that we will have fuel four months from now—enough fuel to begin a war!” Petya was old, but no one’s fool.
    “Comrade Sergetov.” The General Secretary gestured down the table, dodging his responsibility yet again.
    Which side to take? The young candidate member made a swift decision. “Inventories of light fuels—gasoline, diesel, et cetera—are high at the moment,” Sergetov had to admit. “We always use the cold-weather months—the time when usage of these fuels is lowest—to build up our stocks, and added to this are our strategic defense reserves, enough for forty-five—”
    “Sixty!” insisted the Defense Minister.
    “Forty-five days is a more realistic figure, Comrade.” Sergetov held his position. “My department has studied fuel consumption by military units as part of a program to increase the strategic fuel reserves, something neglected in past years. With savings in other consumption and certain industrial sacrifices, we might expand this to sixty days of war stocks, perhaps even seventy, plus giving you other stocks to expand training exercises. The near-term economic costs would be slight, but by midsummer this would change rapidly.” Sergetov paused, greatly disturbed at how easily he had gone along with the unspoken decision. I have sold my soul . . . Or have I acted like a patriot? Have I become like the other men around this table? Or have I merely told the truth—and what is truth? All he could be certain of, he told himself, is that he had survived. For now. “We do have the limited ability, as I told you yesterday, to restructure our distillate production. In this case, my staff feels that a nine-percent increase in the militarily important fuels can be accomplished—based on our reduced production. I caution, however, that my staff analysts also feel that all existing estimates of fuel usage in combat conditions are grossly optimistic.” A last, feeble attempt at protest.
    “Give us the fuel, Mikhail Eduardovich,” the Defense Minister smiled coldly, “and we’ll see it is properly used. My analysts estimate that we can accomplish