Free Jack Ryan 5 - The Cardinal of the Kremlin by Tom Clancy Page A

telling me that they built this place just to take pictures of our satellites?” Ryan demanded.
    “No, sir. They can use it for that, no sweat. It makes a perfect cover. And a system that can image a satellite at geosynchronous altitude might be able to clobber one in low earth orbit. If you think of these four mirrors here as a telescope, remember that a telescope can be a lens for a camera or part of a gunsight. It could also make a damned efficient aiming system. How much power runs into this lab?”       |
    Ryan set down a photo. “The current power output from this dam is something like five hundred megawatts. But—”
    “They're stringing new power lines,” Gregory observed. “How come?”
    “The powerhouse is two stories—you can't tell from this angle. It looks like they're activating the top half. That'll bring their peak power output to something like eleven hundred megawatts.”
    “How much comes into this place?”
    “We call it 'Bach.' Maybe a hundred. The rest goes 'Mozart,' the town that grew up on the next hill over, they're doubling their available power.”
    “More than that, sir,” Gregory noted. “Unless they're j to double the size of that town, why don't you assume the increased power is just going to the lasers?”
    Jack nearly choked. Why the hell didn't you think of that! he growled at himself.
    “I mean,” Gregory continued, “I mean . . . that's like hundred megawatts of new power. Jesus, what if they made a breakthrough? How hard is it to find out what's happening there?”
    “Take a look at the photos and tell me how easy you think it would be to infiltrate the place,” Ryan suggested.
    “Oh.” Gregory looked up. “It would be nice to know how much power they push out the front end of their instruments. How long has this place been there, sir?”
    “About four years, and it's not finished yet. Mozart is new. Until recently the workers were housed in this barracks and support facility. We took notice when the apartment building went up, same time as the perimeter fence. When the Russians start pampering the workers, you know that the project has a really high priority. If it has a fence and guard towers, we know it's military.”
    “How did you find it?” Gregory asked.
    “By accident. The Agency was redrawing its meteorological data on the
    
     Soviet Union
    
    , and one of the technicians Bedded to do a computer analysis of the best places over there for astronomical observation. This is one of them. The weather over the last few months has been unusually cloudy, but on average the skies are about as clear there as they are here. The same is true of Sary Shagan,
    
    
     Semipalatinsk
    
    
    , and another new one, Storozhevaya.” Ryan set out some more photographs. Gregory looked at them.
    “They sure are busy.”
     
    “Good morning, Misha,” Marshal of the Soviet Union Dmitri Timofeyevich Yazov said.
    “And to you, Comrade Defense Minister,” Colonel Filitov replied.
    A sergeant helped the Minister off with his coat while another brought in a tray with a tea setting. Both withdrew when Misha opened his briefcase.
    “So, Misha, what does my day look like?” Yazov poured two cups of tea. It was still dark outside the Council of Ministers building. The inside perimeter of the Kremlin walls was lit with harsh blue-white floods, and sentries appeared and disappeared in the splashes of light.
    “A full one, Dmitri Timofeyevich,” Misha replied. Yazov wasn't the man that Dmitri Ustinov was, but Filitov had to admit to himself that he did put in a full day's work as a uniformed officer should. Like Filitov, Marshal Yazov was by background a tank officer. Though they had never met during the war, they did know one another by reputation. Misha's was better as a combat officer—purists claimed that he was an old-fashioned cavalryman at heart, though Filitov cordially hated horses—while Dmitri Yazov had won a reputation early on as a brilliant staff officer and