Exit Plan (30 page)

“Thar she blows!” Simmons announced. “I can see the boosters.” On the natural light monitor, a brilliant spark flashed, but was quickly enveloped by a cloud of backlit exhaust. The vehicle itself was only visible on the low-light monitor, a bent arrowhead at the top of the cloud. Two shapes fell away, and the vehicle arced over from vertical to level flight. The petty officer monitoring the UAV console narrated the action as he reported the telemetry. “Booster separation, engine start. Speed is good, following preset course and altitude.”

Lieutenant Frederickson’s voice came over the intercom. “Control, BMC. We’ve notified the team the vehicle is in the air.”

Guthrie acknowledged the reports. “Understood. Good work, everyone. Mr. Simmons, give me the best course to the recovery position.”

~ * ~

The Cormorant UAV was built from gray angles. A triangular intake in the front was attached to two gull wings and a triangular lower fin that looked like the keel of a sailboat. The cylindrical cargo containers were hidden inside two angled bumps on the fuselage, to maintain the vehicle’s stealthy radar signature.

This was a short trip for the unmanned aircraft, even including the doglegs Guthrie had ordered to conceal
Michigan’s
position. Cruising at 450 knots, it covered the twenty miles of its flight plan in just less than three minutes.

Halfway to its destination, the vehicle sensed a coded signal. The controller operated by Petty Officer Lapointe refined the location of the drop point, and the vehicle automatically made a minor correction in course.

~ * ~

Lapointe barely had time to acknowledge Frederickson’s transmission before he had to use the remote control terminal. Jerry and the others waited inside for the supply drop. Lapointe had to be in the open so the terminal’s signal wouldn’t be blocked, but Ramey wanted everyone else under cover. “We can’t see it coming, and the thing’s dropping two canisters two feet in diameter and five feet long. If the chutes don’t deploy, I don’t want anyone exposed.”

Although curious to see the vehicle in flight, Jerry agreed. Besides, at night there would be little to see.

The UAV slowed as it approached the programmed waypoint. Lapointe could see their building through the sensor feed, and verified the Cormorant wasn’t about to dump its cargo on top of them. It climbed slightly, to give the chutes a chance to open, and released the two cylinders. Feeling no pride in a job well done, the vehicle immediately turned to the next programmed course, which started it on a dogleg track back to the recovery point near
Michigan.

Lapointe gave the “all clear,” and everyone piled out of the storage building. Looking through his nightscope, he was pointing to the north. “I saw two chutes. They’re not far, in that direction.”

The capsules had landed within a dozen meters of each other. At almost three hundred pounds apiece, it took two trips, with four men to lug each container, two SEALs for security, and Shirin carrying the rolled-up parachute.

~ * ~

A five-minute flight following a different path brought the Cormorant to its splashdown point. It orbited, at low altitude and slow speed, waiting for
Michigan
to reach the spot, farther away from the coast and well away from the launch point.

After reaching periscope depth, Captain Guthrie made a sweep with the optical scope while the photonics mast and the electronic surveillance sensor made their own checks. “No close contacts. The area is clear. Send the splashdown signal.”

Mindlessly circling, the Cormorant cut its engine and deployed a parachute, settling gently into the water. By the time Jerry and the SEALs were opening the supply capsules, an ROV from
Michigan
had attached the haul-down cable to the Cormorant. It would be reeled back into the missile tube, where it would be refueled and prepared for the next time it was needed.

~ * ~

With darkness, Ramey was impatient to get moving. The remote chance of someone observing the supply drop provided additional incentive to clear the area. Like all SEAL evolutions, they had planned what each man would do as soon as they opened the capsules. Their contents were quickly distributed. In addition to obvious things like food, water, and ammunition, there was a SCAR rifle and tactical vest for Jerry, additional thermal blankets and camouflage suits for the Iranians, handheld night-vision goggles, a more comprehensive medical kit for Fazel, and spare batteries for everything.

Phillips helped Jerry rig the vest and reviewed basic procedures for the rifle. Even though he’d had the session with Ramey on
Michigan
, it was a lot less academic now. “Bottom line, XO, if you see us shoot, you shoot at that. If you see something that you think needs shooting, talk to us first. There may be a reason we haven’t.”

There were a few surprises. Fazel found a plastic jar with a note attached. Reading it, he smiled and opened the jar. Taking out two pills, he offered them to Shirin along with a bottle of water.

“What are these?” she asked suspiciously.

“Compliments of the ship’s doctor,” he replied. “Vitamin pills. For your pregnancy.”

Five minutes later they were walking southeast.

~ * ~

He wasn’t making headway. Andy had always been stubborn. Myles wouldn’t have won the nomination without his friend’s pigheaded drive. But once made up, unmaking Andy’s mind was nearly impossible.

“Mr. President, it’s my job to give you my best advice, and in this case, it’s a warning. The Iranians are selling us a load of organic fertilizer, and the sooner we recognize that, the better off we’ll be.”

Secretary Lloyd was pacing back and forth, the length of the Oval Office. Myles could feel his frustration. They’d known each other for thirty years, and he knew Lloyd regarded himself as the practical one, and Myles as the idealist.

The president asked, “Why didn’t the Arak file change your mind?”

“Because it’s no different than the first one. If the Iranians can create one file, why not two? Others have done it to us, and we’ve done it as well. Forged documents are an established part of intelligence tradecraft.”

“So it comes down to whether you think this file is authentic or not.”

Lloyd stopped pacing to stand in front of Myles’s desk. “Sir, as secretary of state, my official judgment is that we have been deceived by a long-term Iranian disinformation campaign. Their true status is now being revealed as they prepare to test a weapon, an overt but necessary step. Not only does a test allow the bomb designers to gain critical information, it shows the world that one more nation has joined the nuclear club.”

Lloyd pressed his point. “An Israeli attack within the next few days is inevitable. The argument about whether or not the Iranians have the bomb is moot. The real question is, What do we do when the shooting starts?”

Myles shook his head. “I want to stop the shooting before it even begins. Another war in the Persian Gulf won’t solve anything.”

Lloyd spoke slowly, picking his words. “I will remind you, sir, that our intelligence people have always called an Iranian nuclear test the “starting bell” for an Israeli attack. Our people also said that because of that, the Iranians wouldn’t test the first device, but the third or fourth one. If the Iranians already have two or more nukes, then war may be the only way to stop Iran from using the bombs on Israel, or us.”

Myles’s intercom buzzed. “Dr. Kirkpatrick has arrived.”

“Thank you, Evangeline. Please send him in.”

“Reinforcements, Mr. President?”

Myles laughed grimly. “New information, Mr. Secretary.”

The national security advisor was hardly in the room before announcing, “The Israelis said, ‘Thanks, we’ll look at it carefully.’ “

“And this is Mossad’s official response?” Myles prompted.

“I spoke to Yitzhak Harel, Mossad’s number two, personally,” Kirkpatrick answered. He sounded tired, and disappointed. “He said it would be considered as part of their total intelligence picture.”

“Which is politespeak for giving more weight to the test site and the IAEA findings.”

“As they should,” Lloyd added. He turned to Kirkpatrick. “Doctor, which type of intelligence is more reliable, HUMINT or physical evidence?”

“You’re allowed to disagree with our findings if you want to, Mr. Secretary. We’re trying to find a solution that accounts for all the data. A responsible analyst—”

“Did you get any idea of their time line?” Myles interrupted. As vital as the Opal files were, getting a sense of Israeli intentions was even more important. And the last thing he needed was a fistfight between his national security advisor and the secretary of state.

Lloyd bristled. “My people will tell me, if and when the Israelis tell us.”

“By which time it will be too late,” Myles answered impatiently “They’ve already written us off. We won’t hear about it until planes are in the air.”

Kirkpatrick answered, “I asked him fiat out what their official assessment was. He said, ‘They have the bomb. We are trying to find out how many and where they are.’ After that, Harel paused for a moment, and added, ‘We must give Laskov our best estimate in less than two days,’ and then he hung up. By the way,” Kirkpatrick added, “General Laskov commands their air force.”

Myles sighed. “Good work, Ray. That’s what we needed to know. We’ve got less than two days to stop them.”

Lloyd acted surprised. “Sir, I don’t believe that’s wise. It may not even be possible.”

“More ‘official judgments,’ Andy?”

“Sir, I say again, the Israelis are going to attack, and we’d best be prepared with our own response. There’s a lot we can do behind the scenes to help them. And frankly, Mr. President, if you want a short war, with a favorable outcome for our interests, our best course is to join them.”

“Mr. Secretary!” Kirkpatrick almost rose out of his chair, shock in his expression as well as his words. “A combined U.S. and Israeli attack—”

Myles held out a hand, cutting off the rest of Kirkpatrick’s outburst. “I’ve been waiting twenty minutes for you to say that, Andy.”

“Iran’s been a bleeding sore in the region since the Revolution— assassinations in foreign countries, exporting terrorism, attacks on Israel through Hamas and Hezbollah, helping the insurgents in Iraq. The only reason they haven’t done more is because they can’t. If Israel’s going to attack, I say help them to do a good job of it, then we can all relax.”

Myles’s temper started to show in his voice. “First you take over General Duvall’s job, now you want to replace Ray here as well? ‘Relax’ is the last thing we’ll be able to do.” The president gestured to Kirkpatrick. “Ray is right. A war between Israel and Iran is bad enough. Israeli bombs can start a war, but heaven knows how it will end, or where it will spread. And you want us in that mess? That’s not judgment, that’s emotion.”

Myles stood and walked to the windows. It was springtime in Washington, but the view didn’t calm him. “Mr. Secretary, it’s the State Department’s job to help me keep the U.S. out of trouble. Are you sure you’re being objective?”

“Mr. President, if you have lost confidence in my judgment, then it’s best if I resign. I can have—”

“No, Andy. You don’t get to take your ball and go home. We’re in a crisis, and I need you at state, but working with me. My official position is that the Iranians are not close to finishing a weapon and that if the Israelis attack, they will be making a mistake that will cost everyone dearly. Your task is to communicate our deep desire for peace throughout the region, while protecting the rights of each nation to live without fear of destruction.”

“Weasel words,” grumbled Lloyd. “It’s an impossible situation.”

“As long as nobody’s shooting, nothing’s impossible,” Myles answered.