Exit Plan (21 page)

“This is most unusual, Captain,” commented Rear Admiral Fabian, Commander, Submarine Forces U.S. Pacific Fleet. “Don’t you think you overstepped your authority to make that decision?”

Joanna leaned over to Kirkpatrick, who was growing tense as the discussion dragged on. “Sir, I personally know Lieutenant Commander Mitchell. He’s a very capable and skilled officer. He served on my husband’s boat during the special operations mission directed by President Huber to investigate spent nuclear fuel dumping sites in Russia. I participated in that mission and…”

Kirkpatrick motioned for Patterson to stop. “Thank you, Joanna. You’ve already told me this.” Chastened, Patterson sat back in her seat, while Kirkpatrick reined in the VTC.

“Admirals, please, there will be a time for you to get answers to your questions,” injected Kirkpatrick patiently. “But it is not now. As I’ve already explained to your
superiors,
I am not the least interested in how or why the ASDS was lost, or in why
Michigan’s
executive officer went on the mission. Our primary concern is how we get our people out of Iran, along with the defectors who have information that is critical to the president’s response to this crisis.

“Besides, I have it on excellent authority that Lieutenant Commander Mitchell is a highly resourceful naval officer who has served this nation very well in the past. I think we should consider allowing him a modicum of trust that he will do likewise during this situation.”

Guthrie watched and listened as the national security advisor immediately silenced the cadre of unhappy admirals.
I owe that man a beer,
he thought.

“Now then, Captain,” Kirkpatrick went on. “Please tell us your plan to extract said individuals.”

“Yes, sir,” Guthrie replied. He then went into a simplified mission-planning sequence, highlighting what they had learned about Iranian small boat patrols and how they intended to use that information to maximize the probability of mission success. He pointed out the timing issue, and while tight in some scenarios, the SEALs were confident that this was the best opportunity they would have as the element of stealth had been preserved. Carefully, Guthrie then brought up the issue of distance and its impact should the situation not evolve as anticipated. He wrapped up his presentation with a description on how the SEALs and the others would be recovered by
Michigan.

“As the Zodiac approaches our location, the rest of the SEAL detachment will egress through the dry deck shelter and swim up with scuba gear fitted with a second demand valve. Once over
Michigan,
the Zodiac will be abandoned and the occupants will swim down into the DDS and through the lockout chamber into the boat. Under normal circumstances, I would broach the boat and recover the personnel without having to resort to a shallow dive with untrained individuals. But the circumstances are far from normal, and the risk of detection by a patrol boat close to Iranian territorial waters is extremely high.

“As the Iranians, my XO, and the others are swimming down, Lieutenant Frederickson and one other SEAL will scuttle the Zodiac by puncturing several of the air chambers. Once everyone is in the DDS and the hatch is closed, we make best tactical speed for Bahrain. That concludes our proposed plan, Mr. President.”

“Thank you, Captain. Your proposal is sound and I appreciate the detailed planning that went into it. Your plan is approved. I did note, however, your concern about the distance.”

Guthrie had intentionally pushed the topic; he’d tried to be diplomatic, but he just didn’t know if he had pushed too hard. He wasn’t sure whether he would be given permission or a presidential ass chewing.

“Yes, sir. It is the key factor in our evaluation of mission success.”

“Yes, I know, Captain. Both the CNO and my national security advisor have already beaten me about the head on this,” said Myles, smiling slightly. The smile quickly evaporated as the president leaned forward, his expression becoming sterner.

“I realize that my restrictions are not popular, Captain Guthrie. I have also been forced to realize that they are overly conservative. I will allow you to approach the twelve-mile limit to deploy and then recover the occupants of the combat rubber raiding craft. Between these events you are to back away to fifteen miles. Under no circumstances are you to violate Iranian territorial waters. Will this compromise ease your concern a little, Captain?”

Guthrie quietly let his breath go. He’d gotten part of what he wanted, and it was a meaningful compromise.

“Absolutely, Mr. President. This will make a big difference, particularly with those potential scenarios where timing is a very critical issue. Thank you, sir.” He looked toward Frederickson who was obviously pleased and gave him a thumbs-up under the table.

“Just get your people and the Iranians out of there, Captain. The information your passengers are carrying is quite likely the key we need to understand just what the hell is going on over there.”

“We’ll do our best not to disappoint you, sir,” replied Guthrie, as he signed off. The chances of pulling this off just got a whole lot better.

~ * ~

Mehry Naseri was washing up in the kitchen when the phone rang. Irritated at the interruption, she quickly dried her hands and snatched it on the fourth ring.

“I am trying to reach Captain Akbari. This is Major Sadi, his supervisor.”

“Oh, Major, I’m sorry, he’s not here right now. He and Shirin left for the coast yesterday morning. I expect them back tomorrow tonight, but it will be late.”

“Do you know where I can reach him, then?”

“They are staying at a hotel in Bandar Kangan. I have the number.” She read it off the slip of paper Shirin had given her. “They may be hard to reach. Shirin said they were going to take several excursions in the area.”

“I’ll try to call him there, then. Thank you, Mrs. Naseri.”

~ * ~

Sadi hung up the phone carefully. Major Rahim, standing silently during the call, nodded approvingly “Thank you Major, for your assistance.”

Rahim left without another word, and Sadi felt the muscles in shoulders begin to relax. It was his policy to keep on VEVAK’s good side, but having one of them ask a “favor” of him had been traumatic.

Back in Natanz’s VEVAK office, Rahim told his assistant, “I need to speak to the VEVAK office in Shiraz.”

~ * ~

The sound jarred Jerry out of a deep, intense dream. Whatever the dream had been about was blasted away by a raucous
Waah Waah Waah
that filled the small cave.

Several of the group, like Jerry, had been sound asleep, but as he sat up, he saw Ramey and Fazel already awake and almost running to the sleeping Iranian couple, also stirring. Before Yousef or Shirin could sit up, the SEALs tore off the blanket and quickly searched the two. Fazel answered angry, confused shouts from Yousef with firm, sharp words in Farsi.

On the fifth or sixth
Waah,
Ramey pulled a cell phone out of Yousef’s pants pocket. Holding it as if it was a venomous insect, he studied it for a moment, then tugged at the bottom of the case. Removing the cover, he pulled out the battery, silencing the device.

Yousef spoke rapidly to Ramey, but the lieutenant cut him off with a gesture and ordered Fazel, “Tell him I’m going to have Pointy check this out to make sure it doesn’t have any tracking device in it, and ask him if he or his wife have any more cell phones or pagers—anything that pushes electrons.”

Ramey gave the phone and battery to Lapointe, adding, “And see who was trying to call him.”

Jerry stood, still processing the event. Someone had tried to call Yousef Akbari. He hadn’t answered, of course, but what did it mean for them? Fazel was speaking in soft but urgent tones with Shirin and Yousef. Ramey had taken the lookout post just outside the cave, and Jerry moved to join him.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t answer,” Jerry remarked.

“He’s not stupid,” Ramey answered. After a moment, he added, “But he wasn’t smart enough to turn it off.”

Ramey seemed uneasy, and shifted his position several times, not to get comfortable, but to improve his field of view.

“You’re trying to decide if we need to bug out.”

“It’s crossed my mind,” Ramey answered casually. “A lot depends on what Harry and Pointy find out.”

It took Fazel another few minutes to finish his conversation and join them. “He bought it in Isfahan about six months ago,” Harry reported. “He’s required to have one whenever he’s off base, and thought it would be suspicious if he turned it off.”

Jerry nodded. “It would have been.”

Ramey wasn’t as kind. “He should have told us about it. He’s put us all at risk. If they can track it, then they know where he is, where we are,” he reasoned.

“But this is where they’re supposed to be—on vacation.” Fazel answered.

“Let’s hope they still think that he’s on vacation.” Jerry’s mind filled with other possibilities, but it all depended on whether Yousef and Shirin’s deception still held.

“Dr. Naseri also had a cell phone; she says she uses it to talk to her handler. The phone is registered in a fictitious name and they use the Skype function so they can’t be traced. It was off when she showed it to me.” Fazel handed the phone to Ramey.

Lapointe made his report next. “It’s a commercial model, made in Germany. It’s low-end, with no GPS capability, which made it simple to check out. As far as I can tell, it hasn’t been modified. There’s also no tracking device, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have the ability to localize an active cell phone. If you’re looking for one specific phone, it can be linked to the closest tower, whether someone is talking on it or not.

“I put the phone under a couple of thermal blankets and slipped the battery back in just long enough to get a list of the most recent calls. It’s only been used once in the past two days: the incoming call this morning. Here’s the number.”

He offered a slip of paper to Jerry, who gestured to Fazel. “Find out if he recognizes the number.”

The medic took the paper and turned to go to Yousef, but the captain had come to join them, concerned, or even fearful. The corpsman gave him the paper and spoke briefly. Yousef’s face drained of color. Fazel translated his answer.

“It’s Major Sadi’s number. He is my superior at Natanz. They are looking for me.”

~ * ~

Rahim gave them two hours, but the Shiraz office called ten minutes short of his deadline. “Captain Akbari’s automobile is parked at Mehry Naseri’s house. It has not been driven since they left on the excursion. I posed as someone interested in buying the car, and while examining it, verified that the tracker was in place. She maintains that the owners will be back tomorrow evening, ‘probably late,’ in her words.

“She also said their Cowin had developed mechanical trouble, so the couple took her car on their trip. It’s a light blue 2001 Peykan. The license plate is Shiraz 21S347. We have e-mailed you all the details.”

Rahim copied the information. “What did she say about their plans?”

“She was happy to pass the time. According to her, they are staying at a hotel in Bandar Kangan, and plan to visit a park in the area, and go to the shore.”

“Good work.” It was a simple task, but Rahim believed in recognizing competence. “Find out what the mechanical problem was. Watch her closely, and compile a list of her contacts. Monitor all communications—personal visits, phone, whatever, regardless of who it is with. This is your highest priority. And send everything you’ve discovered to the Bushehr office.”