“The Louisiana may be stealthy but we were able to get three of our people aboard without notice.” Benton said. “We’ve even been in touch with your husband. With three spies aboard, I’d say we’re perfectly situated. And remember, Admiral Spookie Yuschenko is on our side.”
“Prepare to dive… dive.” the public address system announced. The sub took a sudden deep dive at a 45 degree angle.
“Holy shit” I shouted to Tony. “Are these clowns practicing to be cowboys?”
A half hour later Captain Conklin appeared. “I hope you gentlemen enjoyed the ride,” Conklin said.
“Is this something new?” I asked.
“Yes, sir, it is,” said Conklin. “The captain has decided to abandon secrecy and let all of his crew members in on the plans. Of course he doesn’t realize that three people, including myself, are not on his side. Unfortunately I didn’t have time to alert you and Tony, Mr. President. He just announced the dive without advance warning.”
“So what are these acrobatics all about? We dove almost straight down.” I said.
“The objective is to run silent and deep, and to go deep as quickly as possible, Mr. President. Our destination is the Iranian Navy Base at Bandar Abbas, the main base of the Iranian Navy. It’s located on the Strait of Hormuz on the Persian Gulf.”
“How busy is the Strait?” I asked.
“Quite busy Mr. President. An average of 14 tankers a day pass through the strait carrying 17 million barrels of crude oil.”
“We have no idea what they’re planning for me and Tony Riordan, is that correct?”
“That’s correct Mr. President. We don’t want to risk exposing our mole operation by making too many inquiries. Of course I’ll alert our government from time to time about you and Mr. Riordan.”
He handed Tony and me two Colt 45 pistols with two extra magazines.
“I hope you won’t have to use these,” Conklin said, “but you both know how.”
“We’re set to tie up at Bandar Abbas in a half hour, Mr. President,” Conklin said. “I’ve alerted Washington that you and Tony Riordan are now in Iran. Things are about to get interesting.”
Chapter 28
In the weeks leading up to this, my emotional state has gone from frightened to panic. But now it’s different, it’s coming to a head. To know that Matt will soon be in the middle of bullets flying scares the living shit out of me. Matt’s a hard-nosed and highly decorated Marine who saw a lot of combat, and Tony’s no wilting lily either. But bullets don’t ask to see your resume—they just come screaming at you.
“Mr. President, I just spoke to Mike Conklin,” I said to Rolly Benton. “Things are coming to a head. The Louisiana is heading toward the Iranian Navy Base at Bandar Abbas. She should tie up in about a half hour.”
“Dee, we’re about to enter the next phase of our operation, and it’s not going to be pleasant.”
I’d never known Rolly Benton to look so shaken. In his long military career he’s encountered a lot of painful operations, but this one seemed especially difficult for him. He’s about to launch an operation to rescue the President of the United States. Failure could mean not only the loss of the president’s life—my husband’s life—it could also mean war. Rolly is as tough as nails, but his humanity was showing. How was I doing? I looked down at my hands on my lap. I had just shredded another napkin.
“We’re about to have a visitor, Dee. Commander Dwight Baxter is in command of the Navy SEAL team that will carry out the rescue mission. He’s going to brief us on the details of the operation.”
“Mr. President, Madam Chief of Staff, I’d like to introduce Commander Dwight Baxter of the United States Navy,” the President’s secretary said.” She escorted Baxter into the Oval Office, where he came to attention and saluted.
Baxter stood at about 5’11” and had the build of a wrestler.
From everything I’ve read and heard about Navy SEALs, you want them on your side. SEALs are legendary as a unique fighting force. SEAL is an acronym for Sea, Air and Land. The training, known as BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) is the most demanding military preparedness in the world, consisting of six months of grueling physical and mental stress. During “hell week,” SEALs spend their time swimming in cold water, crawling through mud, climbing trees and tall obstacles, and jumping out of airplanes from impossible heights like 30,000 feet. All of this is accomplished with little sleep. About 30 percent of those who start SEAL training finish. That means that 70 percent wash out. There is no other way of saying it; SEALs are tough. They are not only professional class athletes, they’re also mentally disciplined and intelligent. The idea behind SEAL training is to cheat reality of its surprises. When a SEAL is lying in a pool of mud and cold water, having not eaten for 24 hours, with two hours sleep, surrounded by a superior enemy force, he has one thought: “Been here, done this.”
Commander Baxter is a typical SEAL. With his can-do attitude and athletic body, Baxter was ready for anything an enemy may throw against him. After two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, he was a hardened combat veteran.
All of this knowledge should make me feel better, but I’m still scared out of my mind for Matt. I wish I was there personally. I’m good with a pistol and I’d be happy to personally blow the brains out of any scumbag who laid a fucking finger on my Matt. Now what the hell am I doing, going through self-induced fantasies? Calm down. It’s time not only to act like an adult, it’s time to think like one too.
Baxter and his men had never before been on a mission to rescue their commander in chief. When I considered that the mission would be conducted in a submarine, my stomach did a back flip.
President Benton and I stood to greet our visitor.
“Commander Baxter,” said the president, “The mission we’re about to discuss is one of the most important military operations the United States has ever launched. We’ve never been in a position where one of our submarines was hijacked and the president kidnapped. Your job is to put me out of my job and return President Blake to this office.”
Rolly walked up to Baxter and reverted to his prior role as a SEAL commander himself. He brought his face within two inches of Baxter’s, and looked him in the eyes.
“Failure is not an option, Commander,” Rolly said.
“I’m sure you’re also aware,” I said, “that President Blake is my husband. But your commander in chief is President Benton. You will take orders from him. Now please brief the President and me on your plans.”
Baxter stood ram-rod straight.
“Mr. President, Chief of Staff Blake, I’m not going to minimize the complexity and danger of this operation,” Baxter said. “Our primary objective is to rescue President Blake. Secondly, we aim to recapture the USS Louisiana. We’re going to try to accomplish our objectives with minimum loss of life or injuries to our people. Twenty-five SEALs will be involved, all of whom have had extensive experience with hostage operations. Two of our people speak fluent Farsi, the most widely spoken Persian language. Fifteen men speak Russian, the language of the people who pulled off the hijacking. All of them will wear Russian uniforms. We owe our thanks to the good graces of Admiral Yuschenko, the man who actually planned the hijacking, and has since came over to our side. Yuschenko’s a brave guy. He’ll be part of our operation, and the most valuable insider we’ve got for this mission.”
“Commander Baxter,” President Benton said, “there’s something you need to keep in mind. I want you to impress this on the minds of the others as well. And here it is: We’re running the risk of nuclear war with Iran. They can’t possibly win, but with the 16 active nuclear missiles aboard the Louisiana, we could lose over a million Americans.”
“I’m well aware of that, sir. We’ve been training on a nuclear sub for a month.”
“When will your team be ready to go, commander?” I asked.
“In exactly eight days, Mrs. Blake. We’re going through our final drills at the New London submarine base now.”
“Does the operation have a code name,” asked the President.
“Yes sir,” Baxter said. “We’re calling it operation Tango in honor of President Blake’s code name.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I loudly observed. “Why don’t you call it Operation Matt Blake? Can’t you pick a name that nobody will recognize in the event it’s accidentally leaked?”
I realized that my vulgarity, not to mention my shouting, was inappropriate, so I apologized to Baxter and the President. But I did get their attention. I wouldn’t have been surprised if, in honor of me, they called it “Operation Foulmouth.”
“The alternate name of the mission is ‘Operation Springtime,’ so we’ll go with that,” Baxter said. “Much better,” I said. “That name is meaningless, and therefore more appropriate. If we went with the original name of the mission—Operation Tango—we may as well call it ‘Operation Rescue the President.’ ”
The President handed me a glass of water. Commander Baxter turned beet red. I guess all of his training and combat experience didn’t prepare him for somebody like me. I took a gulp of water and apologized again. I really have to watch my vulgar language.
Fuck it. I’ll think about that later.
Chapter 29
SEAL platoon X-Rray Bravo is part of Naval Special Warfare Group (NSWG) One, stationed in Coronado, California. The platoon consists of two officers and 14 enlisted men. Platoon X-Ray Bravo trained alongside platoon Yankee Zulu which had the same configuration of officers and enlisted men. Platoon Yankee Zulu was the backup, emphasizing President Benton’s command that “failure is not an option.” The entire operation was under the command of Commander Baxter, who would accompany the first platoon to go into action.
Both platoons transferred from Coronado, California to New London, Connecticut to train aboard the USS Pennsylvania, SSBN 735, an Ohio Class boat similar to the USS Louisiana.
The Pennsylvania consisted of 15 officers and 140 enlisted personnel, all of whom were replaced with the 32 members of SEAL Platoons X-Ray Bravo and Yankee Zulu, as well as 123 SEALs from other units of Naval Special Warfare Group One. Because of the extreme Top Secret nature of the mission, the status of the new crew as SEALs was not disclosed to anyone, including the regular crew of the sub. The sailors and officers who the SEALs replaced were simply given new orders. Enough members of the SEALs were experienced in the operation of a submarine to make up an operational crew once the Pennsylvania (and later, hopefully, the Louisiana) got underway.
One month prior to the launch of the rescue mission the entire crew of the Pennsylvania consisted of SEALs.
The training aboard the USS Pennsylvania began one month before the planned launch of Operation Springtime. The most intensive preparations were done by the two platoons assigned to the mission. The first part of the training was for each SEAL to memorize every compartment on the sub and its code number. After that, the exercise broke down into “scenarios.” One scenario called for violent resistance by the “enemy,” another partial resistance, and a third, no resistance at all. They drilled heavily for scenario one, violent resistance. A key part of their training had to do with using firearms on a submarine. In a submerged sub, despite its solid construction, the men had to avoid shooting wildly and risk hitting a pipe or electronic instrument.
Thanks to Captain Conklin, the platoon knew the exact location of President Blake and Tony Riordan. The SEALs concentrated intense training on protecting the corridor leading up to the President’s suite.
Another area that received careful attention was Sherwood Forest, the compartment that housed the ICBMs and their controls. The most critical part of the mission was to rescue President Blake, and closely following that in the list of importance was securing the missile compartment.
The post-training plan called for the SEALs to board a Boeing C-17 Globemaster at Hanscom Air Force Base in Massachusetts. They would be flown to Hamad International Airport in Qatar. From there they would board ground transportation in the early morning hours to waiting boats on the Persian Gulf. The two platoons would travel separately to provide redundancy in the event that something went wrong.
Chapter 30
I sat in the White House Situation Room with the President, CIA Director Bill Carlini, Buster, and about every electronic device ever invented.
On my way I picked up a fresh supply of napkins for shredding.
The President had just taken a call, one of many, from Russian Admiral Yuschenko, who had turned from our enemy to one of our best allies. We all refer to him as “Spookie,” because he once mispronounced the word “spook.” It stuck with him as a nickname.
“Spookie just advised me that he has been in touch with the Louisiana’s new command, and he knows the course the sub will take,” President Benton said.
Commander Baxter took personal command of SEAL platoon X-Ray Bravo. This command would normally be handled by a more junior officer, but Baxter was well aware of the stakes in this mission.
“I’ve been in situations like this before, a clandestine op ready to take off,” said the President. “The only thing that ever makes it bearable is my knowledge of the SEALs. They’re not only tough, they’re also smart.” He turned to me and said, “You’re new to this, Dee. Just stay focused. We’re going to win this thing.”
“This thing includes my husband’s life, Mr. President. Pardon me if I seem a bit edgy.”
I realized I was being out of line, but I felt as if I was standing on the edge of a tall building with a strong wind at my back. I was scared shitless.
“Buster, let the video roll,” the President said. Commander Baxter and two other SEALs had a live videocam on their chests. It’s as if we were watching a movie—a horror movie.
“Dee, it’s perfectly understandable if you want to leave the room,” said Rolly. “We’re about to watch this operation unfold in real time.”
“No, sir, I’ll stay,” I said. “Matt is going through this in real time. The least I can do is be with him in real time, if only on video.”
I can sound tough when I want to, but my words only masked my feeling of near panic. I held my knees with both hands to mask the trembling. We watched and heard Captain Boris Petrov, the new Russian commander of the Louisiana, order the boat to get underway. Next to him stood Captain Joseph Campbell, the treasonous former captain of the Louisiana. Petrov explained to his assistant that he wanted to run the sub through its paces to prepare for a long range cruise.
When the sub leveled off at its pre-determined depth, Petrov commanded, “Steer course 230.”
The video zoomed to Petrov’s head. As we watched, a gun suddenly come into view, aimed at Petrov. Behind him we could see another officer with a gun at his head.
“Put your hands behind your back,” we heard a SEAL say, “If you make any sudden move, the last thing you feel will be a bullet entering your brain.”
We heard distant shouts with American accents. Others were in Farsi or Russian. Another video picked up the scene in the wardroom, the officers’ dining room. Seven of the ten men present had their hands behind their backs. Two of the three SEALs held guns on them, while the third placed them in handcuffs. The next video scene was back in the control room where we could see Captain Petrov and three handcuffed officers.
“Notice, Dee, that this operation is choreographed like a Broadway show.” The President’s commentary did nothing for my screaming stomach.
“Maybe we should all break out into song and dance,” I said, my sarcastic mouth on full display. I can be totally insubordinate when I’m scared. I mumbled an apology as President Rolly chuckled. At least poor Commander Baxter wasn’t there for me to abuse.
We watched the control room as a Russian sailor reached inside his uniform and came out with a gun. His head exploded in front of us as one of the SEALs opened fire.
“As I said, Dee, we’re watching this in real time,” the President said. It freaked me out to see specks of blood
on the camera lens.
“All stations report,” Commander Baxter shouted into his microphone. One by one, a total of five men were required to report his status, such as, “Station three secure,” or “Station five on alert.” Until all stations reported as secure, Baxter knew the operation wasn’t over. Even after all stations reported positively, it was necessary to fan out to arrest stragglers, an operation known as ‘mopping up’ I was told. I recalled the blood specks on the video lens.
“Director Carlini, Buster, you guys did a great job with intelligence. Our guys know exactly who to arrest,” President Benton said.
The next video scene focused in on Captain Joseph Campbell, former commanding officer of the Louisiana and head mutineer. He was sitting handcuffed to a chair. Captain Conklin was standing next to him.
“Joseph Campbell,” Conklin said, “I won’t address you by your military rank because you no longer have one. You are under arrest for treason. You have a right to keep your mouth shut unless I ask you a specific question. If you don’t wish to exercise that right I’ll blow your fucking treasonous head off.”
We all looked at President Benton, who said: “Traitors don’t follow the Geneva Convention, but this situation is murky. It looks like I’m going to be exercising my ‘pardon pen’ for Captain Conklin after this operation.”
“Why don’t you let him blow the bastard’s head off first,” I said. “That would make it worth your while to pardon him.” The thought occurred to me that I was turning into a plain mean bitch. So what?
A SEAL held up a grease board for Baxter to look at. We could see that he was tapping a spot on the board.
“Station Two report,” shouted Baxter. There was no response. He turned to five SEALs who were standing by to assist. “Go to Station Two and secure it. Advise me immediately as to your progress.”
“Dear God,” said Buster.
The President is Missing: A Matt Blake Novel (Matt Blake Series Book 3) Page 9