The Iranian Blockade

by Stephen Makk

“Sounds OK to me. The torpedo room is five feet deep now.”

  “I’d like to get Innes to put his ten cents in,” said the Engineer, “he’s the boat’s diver.” Nathan nodded.

  “There is one more thing,” said the Engineer. “Whilst we’re carrying out the repair and decompression. All areas of the boat, aft of bulkhead five can’t be accessed, and if we do have to exit the boat via the WAEFFO suits.” He looked them both in the eyes.

  “The A-Ganger’s a dead man.” Nathan knew it was a dangerous solution, but they hadn’t much choice.

  “Get your man and get Innes’s help. Do it.”

  The Chief Engineer considered doing it himself, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. He asked for and got, a volunteer. The tools, spares and anything else they could think of were placed in the space. Innes stuck his dive computer to the wall with duck tape, and gave the A-Ganger a quick rundown of what the display would show during “ascent”. He wrote down a series of knocks for communications, all was finally ready.

  Bulkhead six was closed.

  “Close bulkhead five.” The hatch was closed, and the wheel spun.

  “Who’s in there?” Nathan asked the Chief Engineer.

  “Many Ortiz, he’s a good guy. But his ass needs corking up.” It was time.

  “Open ballast valve two.” After a minute or so there were two loud knocks from inside.

  “Close the valve. That’s it, the pressure’s been equalised, the leak’s stopped. It’s up to Many now.”

  Nathan wished he could see inside. How was he doing? Was he short of anything? Long minutes went by.

  He looked at Larry Sayers.

  “This is Goddamn purgatory.”

  “Yeah, but you know you’re going to get out of purgatory, we just have to hope.”

  Finally, there were three knocks from inside the space.

  “He’s done. Crack open valve three,” said the Chief Engineer.

  After several minutes there were two knocks, a pause, then another knock.”

  “He’s at two hundred feet,” said Innes.

  A while later there was one knock followed by a pause and then another.

  “One hundred feet. Close the valve a little. We’re slowing the ascent Sir. It’s the most critical time for the bends.” Innes had given him a system of signals, so he could indicate every ten feet of ascent.

  “Close valve three,” said Innes, “we’re making a stop.” Nathan could barely watch, he had to. God knows what it would be like for Many Ortiz. Innes checked his wristwatch after fifteen minutes they were ready.

  “Crack open valve two, just a little.”

  Long minutes went by, there were three knocks. Innes ordered a long stop. Finally, he stopped again at twenty feet for a long stop.

  “Crack open valve two.” Many minutes later there were six knocks from inside, Innes spun open the wheel and opened the hatch.

  “It’s fixed Sir,” said Ortiz to the Chief Engineer as he climbed out.

  “Well done Many, well done.”

  “Sir, there is a problem.”

  “Go on Ortiz.”

  “I need a shit Sir.” The Engineering Officer laughed.

  “Go and take one then.”

  “Chief Engineering officer get this water purged out,” said Nathan.

  “With pleasure Sir.”

  TWO HOURS LATER.

  Many Ortiz walked nervously into the control room, he’d been summoned by the Captain.

  “Ah,. Seaman Ortiz,” said Nathan, “have you recovered?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Ortiz, I’ll not keep you from your duties. But you did well back there, under pressure in a combat zone. That’s what we’re in here, the enemy would like to destroy us and nearly did. You played a big part in preventing that. I’m going to recommend that you be awarded the Silver Star. Well done Ortiz, now go back aft and join the other Fresh Air Snipes.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Nathan got on with writing his log.

  “Captain to Engineering,” said the intercom. Nathan walked toward aft.

  The Chief Engineer waited for him.

  “Captain, the drive shaft’s as good as we’re going to get it. Remember, no high-speed runs and keep shallow. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on it, and I’ll set the batteries to power up.”

  “Great well done. I owe you a beer,” smiled Nathan. He returned to the control room.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, we may have a drive. Start the prop, minimum revs.”

  “Sir, prop turning ten RPM.” He’d wait for a few minutes; the Chief Engineer would let him know if there was a problem.

  “Set fifty revs.” He waited, then increased them again. All was Ok it was time to try.

  “Trim forward for ascent, twenty per cent.” He waited for the bow to raise itself.

  “Thirty per cent.” Still nothing, this wasn’t good. “Check forward buoyancy fill.”

  “Forward buoyancy is rating thirty two per cent Sir.”

  “Trim forward to Forty five per cent.” The bow lifted and kept lifting, the boat was soon at a bow up attitude.

  “Vent forward, level thirty per cent.” The bow returned to a level attitude.

  “Trim rear to thirty per cent.” The boat lifted off the bottom.

  “Kaminski?”

  “One seven zero Sir.”

  Planesman make your heading one seven zero. Depth one hundred and twenty feet. Five knots.” The boat turned to heading, Nathan checked the compass and depth indicators, they slowly approached the settings required. Nathan grinned, USS Stonewall Jackson was back in business.

  “Chief Engineer write up your report, I’ll get it off to DOD.”

  He received the report and attached it to the signal he entered into the console.

  “Lemineux, stream the comms buoy and transmit this message.”

  PRIORITY RED

  R 2713555Z JUL 86 ZY10

  STONEWALL JACKSON

  CIA-OPS// ID C796TF722//

  TO CIA OPS LANGLEY//N18//

  NAVAL INTEL OPS/04

  MSGID/STONEWALL JACKSON 479/ ACTUAL//

  MSG BEGINS:/7

  DRIVE REPAIRED, BOAT CAN MAKE WAY AT SLOW SPEED. MAX DEPTH IS 300FT. OUR HEADING 170 DEGREES. SPEED 5KT. REQUEST ORDERS. WILL STREAM AT 16.00.

  MSG END//

  “Messaged sent and acknowledged Sir.”

  IT TOOK TWO HOURS FOR the response to come in.

  Nathan read it and puffed his cheeks out.

  “Kaminski. Plot us an evasion course out of here, run it by the XO.”

  “It’s done Sir,” she said.

  “After that, we’ve a long slow cruise to Kobe, Japan. We need to take her back to where she was born, Mitsubishi Heavy Industries. They can get her back on the top of her game the fastest.”

  Kobe, Japan thought Nathan, it’s a long one. They’d probably spend a lot of time snorkelling or on the roof, as he called the surface. The nearest suitable port would probably be Naples, but if the DOD said Kobe, then they must know. USS Stonewall Jackson headed off to Japan for repairs. She needed to be ready for any action to come.

  THEY WERE NOW EAST of the coast of Oman and heading south into the Strait of Oman, From there it would be east, across the expanse of the Indian Ocean.

  Nathan went to his cabin for some rack time. As he lay there he thought about the recent dilemma they’d been in. He kept coming back to it. They’d nearly been sunk by a Ghadir class. It should have been no contest. A Ghadir class? The Jackson was superior in every respect. Yet it nearly had them. He knew it was down to her skipper knowing his boat and the local waters, but he didn’t like it. Not one bit. It should never have happened, he fought to get to sleep, never again, never. His boat had had her ass handed to her. Nathan had let his guard down. Eventually, he slept.

  Chapter 8

  Bandar Abbas. Iran.

  ANUPA AWOKE IN THE reeds by the shoreline, she hadn’t meant to sleep. She checked her wristwatch. She hadn’t slept long, if the boat had sign
alled whilst she was asleep it would repeat the signal at 19.00 hours. Anupa waited. The appointed time passed by, no signal. Dusk became night. She waited until 20.00, she watched staring out over the dark Gulf waters. A few slight waves lapped against the shore. Still nothing. Anupa willed there to be a signal, but there was nothing. Just a dark sea, Raven black and calm. Dawn broke and the sun arose, they wouldn’t pick her up now. She’d laid in a couple of cakes and biscuits, along with a large bottle of water. She found a cabin across the road, it was empty apart from a disused motorbike. She settled down for an uncomfortable day. Eventually, it became dusk and she returned to the Reed sheltered spot by the shoreline. Her signal vigil began. The dark hours went by, she stared with increasing anxiety at the Gulf’s waters. A few fishing boat’s lights passed by. To her left, Anupa saw the first glimmerings of dawn. Minutes later it was increasing, dispelling the night. The landscape was becoming visible. Anupa sat back and sighed.

  “They’re not coming, not now.” She stared at the grey sky in despair. They’re not coming for her. Her food had been used and her water would soon be used too. All day and night without food and drink. Water would be the worst, it was hot by the Gulf. Something had gone wrong, it had to have. She couldn’t wait another twenty-four hours; she’d have to go into the city. She walked to the main road, it didn’t take long to get a lift, she was a woman on her own.

  It was familiar and convenient, Anupa decided to eat at the Eastern Horse Café again. She ordered and ate the food ravenously, the coffee was a delight. She ordered more. It was the same young girl at the counter, she recognised Anupa and smiled.

  “You are visiting friends?” she asked.

  “No, I not been Iran. My Farsi not good. But my Mother came from Iran, so I look. They move to England before I born.”

  She smiled at Anupa. “I can understand you, My name is Shabnam. Here another coffee, this one is free.”

  “Thank you, my name is Paniz.” The two girls chatted for a time, getting to know each other.

  “I go into city Shabnam, I’ll be back. I see you again.” The Iranian girl smiled.

  “Good, you can visit me, I’ll show you around.”

  “Thanks, see you later Shabnam.” Anupa left and walked into the city centre. She was just here to explore, get to know the place and figure out how to get out of the country. There was an airport, it’d be a good way from the city. Probably a railway station and a bus station. She’d a fake Iranian passport, perhaps she could just fly to Dubai? It couldn’t be so simple, nothing ever was. She walked the city streets, modern and sophisticated in parts but older and run down in others. The older parts were on the way up though, it could be old and yet there was a bustling prosperity about the place. She didn’t feel at all out of place, apart from the headdress she was dressed as though she was in London. The headdress was skimpy, if you could call one skimpy. She’d sometimes show leg back home and that wouldn’t be approved of here at all. With her vaguely middle eastern or south Asian looks, she looked the part and didn’t attract attention. Apart from the lustful stares from some men, but that didn’t count she knew.

  SUDDENLY SHE STARED at the newspaper stall shocked. The caption said Wanted for violent assault in Tehran. Paniz Mohsen. Her pictures were from surveillance cameras, but they were unmistakably her. Paniz Mohsen was the name she’d used with the airline. The report said she was dangerous and that she shouldn’t be confronted but be reported to the police.

  She’d used a handgun in an assault on Rhaa Haroon from Pakistan. Paniz was wanted by the Ministry of Intelligence and Security, the MOIS.

  This was horrendous. They’d found the ISI agent’s body and were searching for her. He must have been known to the authorities as ISI and they were assuming a foreign intelligence organisation was involved. They were right of course. How the heck was she going to get out of this one. Her passport would be compromised now, flying to Dubai was out of the question. Anupa’s world had suddenly got much more complicated. What had seemed a relatively straightforward task, leave Iran, had got much more difficult. She’d just been handed a shit sandwich.

  She found a store selling cell phones and purchased a prepaid cell.

  Walking down a quiet alleyway she called the Norwegian Embassy.

  “Hello embassy of Norway,” came the reply in a sing song Norwegian accent.

  “I’d like to speak with Dr Kristlingson. Tell him it’s Sara Kay.”

  “One moment please.”

  After twenty seconds or so the voice returned.

  “I’m sorry but Dr Kristlingson has returned to Norway. Can anyone else help?”

  “No. Why did he leave? When will he be back?”

  “I’m sorry but there has been a death, a close family member. I don’t know how long.”

  “But I must contact him. Any idea how long he’ll be away?” The voice sounded apologetic.

  “It’s his wife, suddenly. It’s normally two weeks for a situation like that.”

  “Ok, sorry. Thank you.” Two weeks, and there was a possibility it’d be even longer. It was far too long.

  How in hell did she get out of the country? She purchased some heavily tinted bronze coloured glasses. Black ones were available, but Anupa figured that they’d look more like an obvious concealment.

  Anupa thought about it, as far as flights, the easiest route to Tehran wouldn’t be much good, she’d have to fly out of the country from there. The airlines maybe quite easy-going on a domestic flight. But on an international flight from Tehran they’d be looking for her. They’d be very strict on an international flight. An overland trip it had to be. North to Azerbaijan or Turkmenistan would be slow but possible, security at the border would likely be very low.

  A trip far west to Iraq, forget it.

  It had to be Karachi, Pakistan. It was a long journey, a similar distance to Detroit from New York. She’d heard that the train wasn’t too good, so it would be a bus; probably a long uncomfortable journey. Not what she wanted, but needs must. From there she could fly to all the major European cities. Anupa made her way to the bus station.

  She got to the station, it was quite large. There were the usual stops with people boarding or waiting, many sat on the benches provided. They looked bored and listless. To the rear were several stores and what looked like a ticket counter. She walked over.

  “I’d like a ticket to Pakistan.” The man behind the counter frowned and looked puzzled. She tried her best, but her Farsi wasn’t up to it. He called to someone, a younger man working on some papers. He came over.

  “I’d like a ticket to Pakistan. To Karachi.”

  “There is one at noon, it for one person?”

  “Yes.” She was issued a ticket and paid the fare.

  “You wait at stop nine, with passport. Twelve o’clock.”

  “Thank you.” Anupa took her ticket and looked for stop nine.

  The young man walked back behind the counter, he picked up a phone and dialled. Looking through the counter windows he watched the foreign woman walk off towards stop nine.

  “Bandar Abbas police?”

  “Hello, I work at the central bus station, ticketing section. I’m calling about a travel alert.”

  LONDON.

  RUDOLPH’S OFFICE FACED the river. He stood looking out over it toward the busy skyline of the city. Tall glass structures of the financial district, down the river was the great wheel of the London eye and the parliament buildings. From the Vauxhall offices of the SIS he looked out at the nation, most were ignorant of the events in train around the world. Not Rudolph, he carried a heavy load.

  The phone spoke in intercom mode.

  “She’s here Sir.”

  “Send her in.” The door opened and a woman in her forties walked in, she wore a look of concern. Silk purse sat down on a couch.

  “I’ve spoken to Langley,” said Rudolph, “I’m afraid it’s not good news. The American submarine that was due to exfil Crutch has been damaged. They didn’t say so, bu
t I think it’s been involved in action against Iran.

  “Why didn’t they keep the bloody thing out of the way and sit quietly until she was ready?” He shrugged

  “Too late for that. It’s on its way to Japan for repairs.”

  “Japan?”

  “Apparently it’s the quickest way,” said Rudolph, “the USN has another submarine off New Zealand. But it’ll take time to get there. To make it worse the CIA’s asset that she was in contact with is out of the picture for two weeks.”

  “She’ll have no option but to exfil. She’ll take the best route available to her. She’ll do what she can Rudolph.”

  “I know, I just wish she’d make contact. We may not be able to help, but at least we’d know what the hell was going on.”

  Silk purse shook her head.

  “You know Crutch is trained to assume the worst. Everyone is under suspicion. Everyone. She’ll become self sufficient and goal focused, her mission will be to get out, that’s all.”

  ANUPA FOLLOWED THE stop numbers until she got to nine. She decided to take a seat some distance away. She kept an eye on the stop the bus would be due to leave in just over an hour. Forty minutes later it arrived, the engine bay cover at the rear was opened and a mechanic tended to it. With just ten minutes to departure she got up to board the bus.

  “Paniz Mohsen?” She turned, two policemen stood a few yards away. They beckoned to her to approach them. Anupa was horror struck, no one knew her assumed name, how had they known who she was? The bulletin. It could be downright bad luck, she’d no idea. They’d obviously identified her from the bulletin, there was no choice but to do as they said. She walked slowly towards them.

  “What?” she asked in Farsi.

  “Come with us.” They pulled her away, one of them took her hands behind her back and handcuffed her, she was led to a police car and bundled inside.

  SHE’D BEEN IN THE INTERROGATION room for hours. She sat on a rough wooden chair at a plain wooden table. No food or drink, no questions. They had tied her loosely to the table, she couldn’t stand or move about. She sat alone, a bare florescent strip light lit the room. Anupa waited for the inevitable grilling. It was boredom, along with needing a piss and having a sore ass. She knew it was slow low-level deprivation. They were wearing her down. Two hours later a man walked in, he was Iranian but looked very western. Dressed casually, he wore a moustache and looked like a film celebrity. She felt like shit, but she thought he looked tasty. He unfastened her bindings.