The ISIS Gambit

by Brad Carlson

  The White House Situation Room

  10:00 AM Local Time

  “Eric, Andrea, how soon will the two of you be ready to leave for Riyadh?” President Barre asked his secretaries of defense and state.

  “Everything hits the fan at eight o’clock tonight. I would think that by ten it’ll all be over, at least from our standpoint, so we should have a pretty good idea where everything stands. Of course, the Russians will be absolutely livid but, if everything goes according to plan, we’ll catch them off guard and there’ll be relatively little they can do right away.”

  “I’ve let our ambassador in Moscow know what’s going on as he’ll be called into the Kremlin at first light, if he hasn’t even been kicked out of the country by that time,” Secretary Johnson added. “If we leave by ten, then we should be over there sometime late morning or early afternoon.”

  “Okay, that’ll be great. I want both of you over there doing a full court press on the Saudis. I want to hit the Russians with everything we can, both in the short term and in the long run. I want to show them what real power is all about.”

  “Are you still planning on heading up to Boston?” Axelsson asked.

  “Absolutely. We’ll be leaving within the hour. I should be up there a little before noon and then back here by six. I wanted to get up there on Monday but Tom talked with the local authorities and they weren’t ready for any kind of visit until today.”

  “As of late yesterday afternoon, they were still pulling bodies out of the wreckage at Fenway, Mr. President,” Fleming added. “There’s still hope that we’ll find some survivors and we don’t want to be in the way.”

  “No, I get that. The last thing I want to do is get in the way, especially of something like this. At the same time, I need to get up there, and it’s more than just being seen. For that matter, I really don’t care if I’m seen by the press or not but for the people of both Boston and New York—they just need to know that I was up there.”

  Raqqa, Syria

  6:00 PM Local Time

  “Imam, this is Dr. Mohammed Kayani.”

  “Dr. Kayani, it is a pleasure to meet you. I understand you worked with Dr. Khan towards the end of his career.”

  “Imam, the pleasure is all mine. I did. Dr. Khan was a great mentor for me. General Shishani has advised me of everything. I must say, your plans are ambitious. I am very pleased to be a part of the operation.”

  “Has Mohammed shown you our facilities yet?”

  “He has, and everything looks perfect. It looks like you have everything I’ll need.”

  “Excellent. If you find that you need something else, let us know right away. When the time comes, I don’t want any delays with your work.”

  “Understood. I look forward to helping you out any way that I can.”

  XIII

  Thursday, September 13th

  Khmeimim Air Base, Latakia, Syria

  2:30 AM Local Time

  “Hey corporal!” sergeant Kuznetzov yelled at his underling. “It’s 0230, we’ve got guard duty this morning. Wake up Boris and Mikhail and meet me out front. If you guys want a ride, meet me out there in fifteen minutes. Otherwise, you guys can walk, you hear?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Fifteen minutes,” the corporal groggily replied. “What’s this all about, anyway? I’ve been here close to a year and we’ve never had to pull guard duty, let alone at three in the morning.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. The major didn’t give me any reasons for this. He just told us that we needed to work up a detail for the tower and the rest of the base facilities, so that’s what I’m doing. We’ll be relieving the current detail at 0300 and no breaks for the next five hours so hope you guys already made your pit stops.”

  “I thought we were early so I planned on hitting it at the tower,” Mikhail replied.

  “Very well, just make it quick.”

  “Hey Colonel, what’s with all the guards?” Petty Officer Dan ‘Reno’ Carpenter, one of the SEALs attached to Jackson’s team, quietly asked as the combined SEAL & Unit team concealed themselves in a small grove across from the tower. “We were told there wouldn’t be any guards.”

  “Reno, do you always believe everything the Navy tells you?” Jackson replied. “I thought you were a SEAL. Don’t they train you guys for little surprises like this?”

  “Speaking of surprises, here comes a truck. Wonder how many they have in back?” Reno replied, as the truck stopped at what appeared to be the main entrance of the operations building.

  “Looks like a typical changing of the guard. Okay, we didn’t expect any of this. Arielle, go with Reno and his team. We need to take out all of these guards before we can get in the tower. I’ll stay with Levi’s team and we’ll take care of the guards at the tower.”

  “Reno, let’s go. We got a job to do,” Arielle ordered as she tightened her pony tail.

  “Yes, ma’am. Okay, guys,” Reno directed his three team mates, “you heard the lady. Let’s get over there and take care of these guys before the fireworks start.”

  Reno’s team, now five strong, broke into two groups as they approached the operations building. A small outbuilding blocked a clear field of fire from a small outcropping of trees that would have otherwise provided excellent concealment for the team. Arielle and Reno took the more exposed side of this building while the rest of the team took the more concealed corner of the building.

  “Okay, Mikhail, we’ll wait out here for you,” Sergeant Kuznetzov said to his fellow guard as he dropped him off at the entrance to the operations center. “Make it quick.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be right out.”

  “Looks like they dropped one guy off . . . and they’re still sitting there. Wonder what this is about?” Reno said to Arielle as they looked on.

  “I don’t know but it’s almost kick off time,” Arielle replied.

  “’Kick-off’ time? Where’d you get that?”

  “Never mind. It’s 0259. We need to go. I’ll take the driver, you take the guy in the passenger seat. Have the rest of the team take anyone in back that comes out.”

  “Yes, ma’am, you heard her guys.”

  “On my mark,” Arielle indicated. “Three . . . two . . . one . . . mark!” And with that, two small holes emerged in the front wind shield of the Russian UAZ Patriot pickup holding the new guard detail for the tower.

  Mikhail approached the front door of the operations building, after making his pit stop, just in time to see his sergeant’s head erupt in a bright red mass as he slumped forward against the steering wheel. Boris had already jumped out of the back of the truck and two more bullets dropped him as he ran towards the front of the building. However, Mikhail noticed the muzzle flashes that dropped his friend and, without even exiting the building, he grabbed his rifle, fell prone and began returning fire through the glass entrance doors.

  “Umph,” came the only sound over Arielle’s headset.

  “Who was that?” Reno asked immediately.

  “Jonesy’s been hit. It’s bad,” came the reply.

  “Okay, on the . . .” was all Reno got out before he took another of Mikhail’s rounds. “Ah!!! Damn it, I’m hit!” he yelled out. Reno had slipped out beyond Arielle and farther from the concealment of the outbuilding to get a better shot at the guard’s truck.

  “I gotcha,” Arielle said as she ran to his position as a round hit the pavement directly behind her. “Where ya hit, sailor?” she asked, grabbing the back of his collar as she dragged him back behind the building.

  “Right above the knee. Hurts like hell!”

  “Okay, lay still while I take a look,” Arielle ordered as she ripped open the petty officer’s fatigues where she found a couple holes. “I’ve got two wounds here, looks like in and out. Can you move your leg?”

  “Are you kidding?!? Aw jeez, that hurts!”

  And at that moment, all hell broke loose as twenty javelin missiles hit four different radar emplacements surrounding the air base. The seconda
ry explosions from several of sites clearly revealed that several missiles had been hit in the first volley.

  “Dusty, you got Jonesy?” Reno called out to his teammate.

  “Moose has him, I got the shooter.”

  “Moose, how’s Jonesy?”

  “He’s bad. He took a round in the side, underneath his arm. He’s losing a lot of blood.”

  “Let me see,” Arielle ordered. “Okay, he’s got blood coming from his nose as well. I don’t see an exit wound either. He’s got some serious internal bleeding. We need to get him out of here, pronto. Moose, you take Jones. I’ll grab Reno. Dusty, you cover us.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Chaos, I’ve got two SEALs down over here. Neither one is mobile, one’s critical. We need to evacuate him to the safe house right away. Reno took a round in the knee. I’m sure he’s got a fracture of some sort and he’s with me. Hurts like hell but he isn’t losing too much blood. We’ll meet you at the tower.” Two squelches served as the affirmative reply.

  “Reno, any chance you can move that leg or do I need to carry you?” Arielle asked.

  “You’re going to have to help me. You can’t carry me over there.”

  “Try me,” came the quick reply as, in practically one motion, Arielle lifted Reno’s left knee off the ground, grabbed his left hand pulling him up on his left leg and then hoisting him over her shoulder.

  “Ah!!!”

  “Just hold tight. Dusty got the shooter so we’re in the clear for the moment, though that won’t last for long,” Arielle ordered as she ran towards the tower entrance.

  At the tower, Zivah had pulled up with the van when she heard of the two casualties. Arielle lay Reno down on the pavement while Stonewall and another SEAL tended to their injured comrade.

  “How’d you do that?” Reno grimaced, still in shock, both from his wound and from Arielle managing to carry him for about seventy-five yards.

  “That’s what training’s all about,” Arielle replied, though thoroughly gassed. “You ought to know that. Hold still while I check you out,” she replied grabbing his blowout kit. “Okay, there’s still not a lot of blood here so I don’t think any major blood vessel’s been hit. It really looks like the bullet hit the femur and then ricocheted out. You’re going to be out of the game for a while. You got room for this guy in there,” Arielle asked Chaos.

  “Right here. Let’s get him loaded and then get in the tower,” Chaos replied as two fellow SEALs grabbed Reno and helped him into the van, while Arielle, Moose, and Dusty joined Chaos’s team and ran to the tower.

  “Okay, folks, what do we have? It looks like we’ve got fires at all four sites,” Chaos initially indicated.

  “Roger that,” one SEAL replied. “Both sites at the south end look totally destroyed. We’ve got multiple vehicle fires and – there goes another explosion – okay, I’d confirm that both sites are completely out of commission.”

  “Arielle, what about the north end?” Jackson asked.

  “Yoni’s reporting heavy contact. He thinks they’ve destroyed the missile emplacement but they’ve taken five casualties, including two KIA.”

  “Does he need any help up there?”

  “He thinks they can handle it,” Arielle replied.

  “Thinks?!?” Jackson stated, more of a statement than a question. “This was supposed to be pretty much a hit and run raid and he’s got seven casualties? Okay, what happened to that truck we saw driving up?”

  “Nothing, other than a couple bullet holes in the windshield—and a pretty messy interior at this point. It’s only been a couple minutes. It’s probably still running in front of the hangar,” Arielle replied.

  “Yoni, Chaos. Everything’s good on the south end and the teams are heading to the rally point. We’re going to grab a Russian Humvee and head over your way to take some pressure off you guys. I’ve got Arielle, Levi, and three SEALs with me. We’ll be out on the tarmac coming from the tower. The Russians have about a dozen planes all lined up on the flight line for us and pretty close to your position. We’re going to drive right through them and do what we can to shoot them up and toss out a few grenades. That should get their attention and relieve a little of the pressure on your team—just don’t shoot us! We’ll be out on the flight line in just a couple minutes.”

  “Understood. Thanks for the help.”

  “Okay, let’s grab that truck and get moving. This could get dicey real quick,” Jackson ordered as the small team evacuated the tower.

  “Dusty, you’ve got shotgun. Everyone else in back,” Jackson ordered as they approached the Russian UAZ Patriot pickup. “How we fixed for ammo?”

  “I grabbed everything these guys had,” Levi replied. “We’ve got a few extra rifles, plenty of ammo, though they didn’t have any grenades. We’re good. Let’s go.”

  “How many grenades do we have?” Jackson asked.

  “We each came with four and no one’s used any. That makes twenty-four.”

  “Okay, you guys in back will have the grenades. I’m going to drive up along the flight line quite deliberately with the lights off. The last satellite photo showed two lines of planes parked along the flight line. The lineup on the left will begin after we’ve passed the first three or four on the right. When we get to the middle of the first grouping on the right, start throwing out your grenades. We’ll have planes on both sides of us. Once all the grenades are gone, open up with everything we have left—but don’t shoot until all of the grenades are gone. When we get to the end of the line, we’ll make a U-turn and head down the runway. I plan on driving all the way down the runway to get out of here. One last thing—we’re throwing these things on a concrete runway, so your grenade is going to roll—don’t over throw your target! Let’s go!”

  And with that, Jackson headed out turning onto the tarmac between the tower and the operations building.

  “Yoni, we’re on the flight line, lights out—don’t shoot at anything on the flight line. Get ready for some fireworks! Fifteen seconds!”

  “Let it rip!”

  “Okay, on my mark, start throwing the grenades: three . . . two . . . one . . . MARK—let’em go!” Jackson hollered as he passed the third of nine SU-24’s all lined up on the right side of the flight line.

  “No one’s shooting at us,” Moose yelled out from the back.

  “They don’t know what’s really going on yet. We’re in a Russian truck heading towards their position with our lights off—we could be reinforcements for them. The explosions are coming from behind us so they don’t know if these are mortar rounds or if we’re letting them off. It won’t take them long to figure things out—once they do, it’ll be a little more exciting,” Arielle replied.

  “Okay, that makes sense,” Moose replied.

  “Yeah, Chaos knows what he’s doing. He’s always pulling something out of his bag of tricks.”

  The shooting started shortly before they reached the end of the lineup of the SU-35 fighters.

  “Yoni, time to get out of there. It’s getting a little warm here. We’re making the turn and heading out the runway,” Jackson called.

  “Chaos, we’ve broken contact and are evacuating to the rally point. Thanks for the assist.”

  “Don’t mention it. If we don’t see you there, we’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Winchester, Chaos.” Jackson radioed the USS Abraham Lincoln, “Fenway Park is avenged. All targets have been neutralized,” Jackson radioed Admiral Jeff Ramsey, commanding officer of the Lincoln Carrier Strike Group.

  “Thanks, Chaos, appreciate you clearing the way for us,” Winchester replied.

  “Not a problem, sir. Always willing to do what I can to make things easier for you Navy boys.”

  XIV

  The White House Oval Office

  8:15 PM Local Time Wednesday

  “My fellow Americans, I come to you tonight to disclose to you, and to the world, some startling news we have discovered concerning who was behind the recent atta
cks on Boston and New York City just a few days ago. As many of you may have suspected, Hezbollah, with the help of the former Iranian Quds Force organized this attack. We have already dealt with the threat posed by Iran but this operation of theirs actually started prior to our deposing the oppressive Iranian regime and the establishment of a more democratic and free Iran. However, the most startling thing of this past weekend is the role played by the Russian government. You see, none of this would have been possible but for the active assistance of the Russian government and its naval personnel in Syria.”

  “The information I’m about to release has been classified at the highest levels for obvious reasons. However, to demonstrate just how involved the Russian government was in these attacks, I want to play a recording of an actual phone call from Defense Minister Anton Ivanov with Admiral Igor Nesterov, who is the commander in chief of the Russian Navy:

  “Admiral, we will have two commercial cargo ships docking at the Syrian port of Latakia in the next few days. The captains of both of these ships have been a sort of liaison for us with Hezbollah. They have gotten word to us that an operation is scheduled to avenge the imperial actions of the Americans and their Zionist lackeys. A total of four commercial cargo ships will be involved. Hezbollah will have their cargo ready for shipment. We just need to make sure that all four of these ships clear the port without any difficulty. Our personnel in both Tartus and Latakia need to render any assistance requested, though this is extremely secret. Understood?”

  “Understood, Minister.”

  “My fellow Americans, this conversation occurred more than a month ago and, for obvious reasons, the very disclosure of this recording will put some of our intelligence assets at risk. However, I believe that the disclosure of this information is more than justified given the nature of Russia’s involvement in this past Sunday’s attacks.”

  “Given the extent of Russian involvement, I have ordered the US Navy and Air Force to carry out a coordinated air strike against all Russian military forces in Syria. These strikes are currently underway and will continue until all Russian military forces in Syria cease to exist.”