Dale Brown - Shadows Of Steel
Page 35
Chris Wohl was on the ground just below the President's apartment window, covering the primary exit, when he saw the curtain above flutter, a sliding door bang open, even heard muted voices!
"Shit, Briggs, what in hell are you doing?" Wohl muttered. This exfiltration was going down the shitter real fast, he thought. He hurriedly clicked his transceiver to alert the ten other commandos in the compound to get ready to move and that they possibly had been discovered--when suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. He whirled, gun at the ready.
"Hang on, Mondo, it's me--George and Gracie. Shit, Wohl thought, it was Briggs and Behrouzi, climbing down the side of the building. "Let's get going. We know where Colonel White is, and we've got less than thirty minutes to get him."
"Briggs, what in hell are you talking about?"
"We found out where White is," Briggs said. "He's at Pasdaran headquarters, first subfloor, room A-193. He's waiting for us."
"Waiting for us? Who the hell told you this?"
"Thank him," Briggs said. Wohl followed his pointed finger up the dark, looming walls of Shamsol Emareh Palace and, to his continuing astonishment, saw the President of Iran, Ali Akbar Nateq-Nouri, looking down on them from his open fourth-floor window! "We gotta get moving, Chris--the President has a job for us."
"The President--you mean, the President of fucking Iran?"
"Hey, watch your sacrilegious language, young man," Briggs scolded Wohl. "This is serious, man--some bad shit could be happening any hour now out in the Gulf. Nateq-Nouri told us about it, he asked for our help, and he sprung the colonel for us to show he's for real--he probably just sacrificed his own life to help us. In return, he wants us to trash Iran's aircraft carrier..."
"What?"
"Never mind now, Chris--when we get back, we'll get hold of Future Flight and get them loaded up for bear again. Right now, we gotta get the colonel before the Pasdaran troopers shut the door on us for good. Let's hit it, Marine." Briggs and Behrouzi trotted off down their preplanned exfiltration route, leaving a totally perplexed Chris Wohl and his fellow ISA commandos shaking their heads.
THE WHITE House OVAL OFFICE, WASHINGTON, D.C. 27 APRIL 1997, 2136 HOURS LOCAL TIME
"General Buzhazi, this is President Kevin Martindale, calling from Washington, D.C. How are you this morning?"
The translator's voice responded, "Very well, thank you." A Farsi-speaking interpreter listening in on the line made notes on a computer terminal in front of the President, verifying the accuracy of the Iranian translator.
"I wish to speak to you about the aircraft carrier Khomeini, General," the President said. "My government has received disturbing news. We have learned that the carrier is carrying a cruise missile with a nuclear warhead."
There was a very long pause after the translation, then: "The Islamic Republic cannot confirm or deny the presence of any nuclear weapons that may or may not be in our possession, Mr. President."
Martindale swore under his breath, glaring angrily at the wall as Vice President Ellen Whiting, Secretary of State Jeffrey Hartman, Secretary of Defense Arthur Chastain, and National Security Advisor Philip Freeman looked on. The President recognized Buzhazi's response--it was the standard response of the U.S. military when asked that very same question about any of its bases or warships. The United States never spoke about its deployment of nuclear weapons. "I see, General," Martindale said.
"Is there anything else, Mr. President?"
"You do realize, sir, that Iran's possession of nuclear weapons and long-range maritime missile technology fitted with such warheads is in violation of the 1968 Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty and the 1993 Missile Technology Export Treaty," the President said. "Iran signed these treaties without reservations."
"The Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty was signed by the traitor Shah Reza Pahlavi's regime, Mr. President," Buzhazi reminded him, "not by the Islamic revolutionary government. It holds no at all with the other agreement."
"Your membership in the United Nations, the World Bank, OPEC, the Seabeds Committee, and the International Civil Aeronautics Organization also predate the Islamic revolution," the President said. "Should we consider your membership in all those organizations also without validity?"
"You may do as you wish, Mr. President," Buzhazi said sternly.
"In any case, all of this is of no consequence. The aircraft carrier and the destroyer Zhanjiang are both the property of the People's Republic of China's People's Liberation Army Navy. For a fee, Iran has been allowed to service and refurbish these vessels, and perform flight training on them.
In time, they will be returned to China. Whatever weapons these vessels carry is determined by the People's Republic of China.
Perhaps you should speak with Premier Jiang Zemin." Jiang Zemin, the successor to the powerful and popular Chinese Premier Deng Xiaoping, was a well-educated, well-spoken man--young for a top Chinese leader, at age sixty-eight--but was even more enigmatic and unpredictable than Buzhazi. Since the Chinese mini-invasion of the Philippines and the Chinese transfer of potentially devastating weapons to unstable regimes such as North Korea, Syria, Iraq, Sudan, and Iran, relations between the U.S. and China had been strained, and Martindale and Zemin did not have much to say to each other, "Since you control the movement of the Khomeini, General, I'll speak to you," the President said sternly. "Your forces unsuccessfully attacked the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln last night with long-range bombers, and now we observe your aircraft carrier sailing out of the Gulf of Oman toward our carrier group. We regard that movement as a hostile action, and we will take steps to stop it if it is not returned to port immediately."
"Then it shall be returned to port," Buzhazi said. "The carrier Khomeini and the destroyer Zhanjiang will be returned to their home port... of Ningbo."
"Ningbo... where's that?" the President asked the room, covering the receiver. Seconds later, the information appeared on his computer screen from a military intelligence analyst: Ningbo was the Chinese Eastern Fleet headquarters, situated on the East China Sea--within easy fighter range of all of South Korea, including Seoul; the Japanese main islands of Kyushu, Shikoku, western Honshu, and all of the Ryukyu Islands, including Okinawa; and the island of Taiwan. "You're sailing a nuclear-armed aircraft carrier to the East China Sea?"
"It is what the customer ordered, President Martindale," Buzhazi's translator said. "We shall be conducting trials in the Arabian Sea and Indian Ocean, possibly with a cruise up the Red Sea to a port call in Libya first; then, we shall transfer the ship first to Victoria, then on to Ningbo. I trust the United States will not interfere with the transit." Victoria was to be the newest Chinese naval base on the island of Hong Kong, about to be transferred to Chinese control.
"We strongly object to that ship carrying nuclear weapons," the President said, "and we will urge all nations through which this vessel will pass to prohibit you from entering their waters."
"And I object to the United States flying its stealth bomber across our sovereign airspace, attacking our airfields, and killing our citizens," Buzhazi interrupted hotly. "The United States has sailed nuclear-armed warships past our country for over forty years, in your 'national interest' and 'defense' interests--now we shall do the same. Is there anything further, Mr. President?"
"I should like to inquire about President Nateq-Nouri's condition and his political status," Martindale said.
"I regret to inform you, sir, that President Ali Akbar Nateq-Nouri was found dead in his home in Tehran not too long ago," Buzhazi said, completely without emotion. "He was found with a single bullet wound to the head, made by an Italian-made Beretta Model 92 handgun--I believe it is the standard issue to American military forces, is it not...?"
"You son of a bitch!" President Martindale snapped. "You murdered President Nateq-Nouri!"
"An investigation is under way, but we believe the incident may have been a murder by foreign assassins," Buzhazi said matter-of-factly. "The President may have been coerced into using his office to release a f
oreign prisoner from a military prison facility, then killed. Such a regrettable incident. I hope Allah has no mercy to those who did such a deed."
Martindale slammed the telephone back on its cradle in absolute anger and disgust. "That bastard!" he shouted.
"That insane bastard! He had Nateq-Nouri killed for helping Paul White escape from Tehran!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. President," Philip Freeman said. "I'm sorry my guys got him in this predicament. I take full responsibility for Nateq-Nouri's death."
"Bullshit, Philip, it had to be Buzhazi himself who did it," Secretary of Defense Chastain said. "He was looking for a way to off the President for a long time--it's no secret that Buzhazi wanted the presidency, but he'd be completely unable to stand for an election. He's a power-crazy madman."
"And right now, he has the ear of the mullahs, including Khamenei," Secretary of State Hartman said. "If he survives the scrutiny of the Leadership Council, his power will grow exponentially--especially if he helps cement a strong relationship between Tehran and Beijing. He will be quite unstoppable then.
He may gather enough strength to weaken or even topple the religious leadership."
"Our problem right now is that carrier," the President said. "I don't want it to leave the Gulf of Oman. Philip, can your boys stop that thing without starting a war in the Middle East?"
"We had trouble in our last sortie, sir," Freeman said. "The Iranians have apparently figured out a way to detect the stealth bomber."
"They what?" Chastain retorted. "What happened?"
"Three radar sites--land, sea, and air--perfectly synchronized," Freeman explained. "Each one receiving the other's radar signals and combing them on one display. The off-axis lobes created by the stealth design are picked up by other sites and reported to the master radar site. It's enough to get a weak return. After that, just vector a fighter close enough to that blip to get a visual or infrared signal, and he's yours. An Iranian fighter got close enough to fire a missile at our secret B-2A bomber--the missile was diverted by the bomber's active countermeasures, but one engine was shot out. Jamieson and McLanahan barely got away."
"Thank God," the President breathed. "So what's the solution?"
"The solution, Sir, is to knock out the synchronized radar sites," Freeman said. "We have anti-radar missiles that can destroy the radar sites from five to ten miles out. The problem is that Iran has got every air machine they have in the air, and they're sure to intercept the missile shooters at long range. The other problem is that the only anti-radar missile shooters we have in the region right now are on the Lincoln--the EA-6 Prowlers, the A-6 Intruders, and the F/A-18 Hornets. It'll take just about every one of them to take out all the Iranian radars."
"And now we're talking about an invasion force," the President said, "something I want to avoid. Iran hasn't declared war on anybody--if we shoot first, we're the bad guys."
"And after all that, our chances of success will be low," Freeman admitted. "The shooters would be outnumbered ten to one by advanced Iranian fighters, and they'd be detected long before they got within firing range. And because the Lincoln is so far from the Gulf of Oman right now, fighter coverage would be minimal or nonexistent."
"I take it you have an alternate plan, or else you wouldn't be here right now," the President said to Freeman. "Let's have it.
"The plan involves considerable risk to Air Vehicle Eleven, the B-2A bomber Jamieson and McLanahan are flying," Freeman said.
"It'll be sent in against the Iranian air defenses all by itself, armed with non-lethal weapons. It involves much more risk--not just to the crews, but to you politically as well. If it fails at a critical time, you'll be totally exposed--there'll be no doubt about what you attempted to do. If it succeeds, we'll be able to meet your original criteria: the mission will be totally deniable, it'll involve no or minimal loss of life, and it won't look like an invasion force is out to destroy Iran."
"Then let's do it," the President said. "Brief me on the plan, and let's get started."
"You should think about this for a time, Mr. President," Freeman said. "The plan involves great personal political risk."
"Philip, this job is nothing but a long list of great personal political risks," President Martindale said. "But I told you, I want that carrier stopped. If you got a way to do it without starting a general war in the Middle East-"
"Or Asia, sir?" Freeman interjected.
The President hesitated--Freeman and the other advisers could see the President avert his eyes, thinking hard, perhaps reconsidering...
"Or Asia," the President said. "Let's hear it." And with that, Philip Freeman began outlining his plan to the President and his advisers.
TEHRAN, IRAN THAT SAME TIME Smiling, General Buzhazi hung up the dead phone. "Your threats will do you no good, President Martindale," he said. To Air Force General Sattari, Buzhazi's acting chief of staff, he asked, "Is the mission ready to proceed, General?"
"Yes, sir," Sattari responded. "Backfire bombers from Esfahan and attack planes from Bandar Abbas will attack the United Arab Emirates' bases at Taweela, Mina Saqr, and Mina Sultan, and the Omani naval base on the Musandam Peninsula; six fighter-bombers from the Khomeini will attack Sib Air and Naval Base near Muscat in Oman. Six fighters from the Khomeini will provide primary air cover to the east, backed up by fighters from Chah Bahar; Bandar Abbas and Abu Musa will provide air- and ground-based air defense cover for the western attackers. The attack will be perfectly coordinated so that all attacks are simultaneous and that air defense fighters will launch and cover the strikers' retreat, without alerting anyone that an attack is imminent."
"And what about the Americans?" Buzhazi asked. "The Americans patrol the Arabian Peninsula almost all the way to the Gulf of Oman."
"We outnumber all Western and GCC aircraft by a factor of three to one," Sattari responded. "As you ordered, we shall launch six fighters for every one of theirs. The American and Saudi F-15s are respectable, but they are not a match for a locust swarm of MiG-29s and their own F-14 Tomcats."
"Very good," Buzhazi said. "And the preparations for an attack by their stealth bombers?"
"Radar sites from Shiraz to Char Babar are now all synchronized.
We cover the entire Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman region with radar capable of detecting the B-2A stealth bomber," Sattari replied proudly. "The network is controlled by the master combat information center aboard the Khomeini, but any radar facility can become the master combat center if the others should go off the line. The long-range air defense radars around Tehran have also been synchronized, and soon all of Iran's long-range radar systems will be synchronized to be able to detect stealth aircraft."
"And what of our preparations for the follow-on attacks?"
"We are ready, sir," Sattari reported. "We have two fighter bomber and one additional fighter-interceptor teams ready to fly in follow-up sorties should the first round of attacks prove successful. The slowest element in the follow-on sorties will be the carrier-based aircraft, so we have split their force into two bomber and two fighter elements, to provide continuous air defense patrols while the bombers land and depart. The other elements from Chah Bahar and Bandar Abbas will be ready to attack the follow-on targets in Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, and Qatar immediately.
In addition, other forces from Tabriz and Mahabad will be standing by to strike targets in Turkey if you so order."
"Excellent, General, excellent," Buzhazi said. "The attack will commence tonight. May Allah be with our pilots!"
ANDERSEN AIR FORCE BASE, GUAM 28 APRIL 1997, 1551 HOURS LOCAL Patrick McLanahan was on the third-floor catwalk of the hangar in which his B-2A Spirit stealth bomber was going through its final maintenance checks. He wore a black flight suit with no patches or insignia--it looked like mechanic's overalls--with Chinese-made flight boots, thick and woolly.
"The thousand-yard stare again," Wendy McLanahan said as she approached him. She linked her arm in his and rested her head on his right shoulder. "They d
id a pretty good job on it in such a short time," she said, looking at the left engine nacelles.
"Can't even tell you were hit by an Iranian missile and almost blown into a thousand pieces."
"Wendy..
"This is really a crazy idea," Wendy said irritably, "and I can't believe you thought of it, and I can't believe Freeman accepted it.
"It's the only way we can do it, Wendy," Patrick said absently, still staring at nothing, as if trying to look into the future and see if this was going to work. "If there was another way, I'm open to suggestions..."
"I've got one--let it be. Let the Iranian carrier be," Wendy said angrily. "No one has declared war here, Patrick. Paul White and the survivors of the Valley Mistress are safe, Hal got back at the Iranians for what they did--aren't we even now?"
"We were--until Buzhazi had President Nateq-Nouri killed," Patrick said. "It's obvious that he doesn't want peace. He wants to take that carrier battle group and wreak havoc in the entire region, all for the sake of glory and power for himself."