Exit Plan (58 page)

“The skipper has orders from the ‘Big Guy’ to shoot them down, if we have to, and we’ll go up ready to do just that. The president also made it clear to our boss that nobody wants to shoot anybody. If that happens, the Iranians will be the only ones smiling. So our boss is going to do his best to turn them back with no shooting. That’s the happy ending we’re looking for here.”

He pointed to two airborne early warning stations over Iraq and the Gulf. “E-2Ds are deployed here and here, and should pick up the Israeli strike about three hundred and fifty nautical miles away. As soon as they detect the Israelis, they will drop back, keeping their distance but staying in contact.

“We will launch, climb to co-altitude, and position ourselves directly across their flight path. We will be number two squadron in the barrier, with the 323rd on the left and the 146th to our right, and beyond them the 154th. Flights within the squadrons will be stacked at thousand-foot intervals, squadrons spaced one mile apart. Aside from a few hangar queens, every Hornet flies. Counting the escorts for the Hawkeyes, that will give us approximately forty-five fighters in the air.

“The Growlers will be back here and above us to provide jamming support, but like us, they won’t send out an electron until Taz gives the go. He will be in the ready E-2 that will launch first. He intends to use the comm systems on the Hawkeye to talk to whoever’s leading the Israeli strike.”

Heretic paused, and one of the pilots asked, “Skipper, what if the Israelis fire first?”

“Maneuver defensively, but hold your position in the barrier as long as possible. The Growlers will jam their guidance links and seekers, but if it’s a mass launch they won’t be able to cover everyone. Force them to maneuver. They’re tight on fuel, so if we can make them burn it up, then they have to go home. Do not return fire, even if you’re fired on first, until the order is given.”

That brought murmurs, if quiet ones, from the squadron. “I repeat, you will fire only if you hear the order from Taz or me, and I won’t give it unless I hear it from Taz. I won’t have to punish anyone who shoots without orders, because he’ll have to answer to the president.” He paused for a moment, and added, “I know you don’t like what I’m saying, but if we have to take a few hits to get the Israelis to turn around, well, that’s what they pay us the big bucks for. The only other option is to do nothing and let the Israelis start a war.”

Reagan’s
1MC announced, “ALL HANDS, FLIGHT QUARTERS,” followed a moment later by the general quarters alarm. Zipper hit a key and the map changed to show the real-time position of
Reagan,
her battle group, and all known air contacts. A large number of unknown aircraft over Saudi Arabia were headed toward the gulf. Orders for each squadron flowed across the bottom of the screen.

“We launch in fifteen, Argonauts,” Heretic announced. “Do it right.”

As the squadron commander watched his people file out the door, one of the pilots approached him and spoke quietly. “Sir, permission to speak frankly.”

Heretic nodded. “Of course, Smokey. This job is too important to leave any question unanswered.”

The lieutenant sighed. “Sir, of course I’ll follow your orders on this, but I’m not happy about risking my life to defend the Iranians.”

“Taz says the Iranians want this fight, Smokey. They’re on a downward slope and they want to pull everyone down with them. You are not defending the Iranians. And if you’re risking your life, it’s to stop a war.”

~ * ~

The ringing of his cell phone jolted Rahim out of a deep sleep. Not quite awake, he fumbled for the squawking device on the floor by his cot. Finally managing to grab it, he sluggishly opened the flip cover and answered, “Major Rahim.”

“Major!” It was Dahghan, his voice was loud, excited. “A Pasdaran patrol on the Bandar Shenas breakwater has come under attack. An unknown number of assailants fired on the patrol from a boat and the shore.”

“When?” shouted Rahim. He bolted from the cot toward the door, the surge of adrenaline snapping him from his lassitude.

“Within the last few minutes, sir. We’ve lost contact with the patrol leader.”

“Are there any other patrols nearby? Can they confirm the presence of a boat?” Rahim thrust his hand into his pants pocket, searching vigorously for his keys.

“Another patrol is responding, but they are too far away to see anything,” replied Dahghan. Rahim heard the sounds of a man running, breathing hard.

“Where are you, Karim?” he said, as he slammed the accelerator to the floor. The tires spun, spewing gravel behind them.

“I’m en route to the harbor at Bandar Lengeh. Two Pasdaran Navy patrol boats are preparing to depart immediately.”

“Wait for me. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” ordered Rahim. His car was speeding through town at almost ninety kilometers per hour.

“Yes, Major. But please hurry!” Dahghan exclaimed, and then hung up. The last thing Rahim heard was the sound of boots pounding on a wooden deck.

Rahim’s heart was racing as he roared through the rotary in the middle of Bandar Lengeh.
They were practically on top of us the whole time
, he thought.
Only fifteen kilometers away! Less than five from the airport, and with all those troops! How could we have missed them?!

It was only four kilometers from the regiment’s headquarters to the harbor, and it was right down Highway 96, which was mercifully clear of traffic at this early hour. He had to slow to make the hard left turn off the highway, but accelerated as he rounded the corner of the perimeter road. Two men jumped out of his way as he tore past the main harbor building. With the horn blaring, he came to a screeching stop at the end of the breakwater. Leaping from the car, Rahim sprinted toward the pier with the Pasdaran patrol boats. He could see Dahghan waving at him from the stern of the larger boat; urging him to run faster. The boats had just pulled away from the pier.

As he ran, Rahim saw a weird flash by the bow of the Boghammar. Sections of the forward part of the boat peeled away and were cast skyward. A second later, he saw another explosion, this time back by the stern. The rear end pitched up violently, throwing people and equipment into the air. He watched as Dahghan was catapulted over the superstructure and onto the now ragged bow. As the Boghammar settled and began sinking, the smaller patrol boat next to it also exploded. Only this time the blast seemed louder as its gasoline fuel ignited and erupted into flames, reducing the boat’s small composite hull into tattered burning shards.

Rahim started slowing down, a stunned look of disbelief on his face. It was all so surreal. He just couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what was happening. Nor would he have the time, for a split-second later he was picked up bodily and thrown to the ground by another, even larger explosion. An intense wave of heat hit his face as the detonating fuel tank on the pier sent a column of flames high into the air. Dazed by the powerful blast, Rahim slowly struggled to his feet. The pier was ablaze, as were the two patrol boats and the water around them. Shaken, he wobbled as he took those first steps toward the destroyed pier. A man rushed up and grabbed Rahim by his left arm, supporting him as his legs buckled. The man’s lips were moving, but Rahim heard nothing. His ears were still ringing from the force of the explosion. Pointing toward the wrecked patrol boats, he could only mutter, “Dahghan?”

~ * ~

“Get the hell off my leg!” shouted Lapointe through clenched teeth. Jerry and the poor petty officer had been thrown together into a contorted heap at the back of the boat when Phillips opened up the throttle and accelerated away from the breakwater. Ramey and Fazel untangled the two and laid Lapointe down along the gunwale. Jerry plopped down behind Phillips; the boat was up on plane, speeding away from the Iranian coast.

Lapointe was obviously in great pain, swallowing hard, with tears streaming down his cheeks. Fazel pulled out some ibuprofen caplets and a bottle of water. Lifting up Lapointe’s head, the corpsman helped his teammate down the painkillers. “Sorry about the rough landing, Pointy. But we were in a little bit of a hurry,” he apologized.

“Stow it, Doc,” Lapointe shot back with a slight grin. “You just wanted to body slam your LPO. Admit it.”

Fazel paused, stroking his beard, feigning deep thought. “You know, now that I think about it, I did find it strangely satisfying.” Both men laughed, but Lapointe did so weakly.

The corpsman slapped his friend on the shoulder and said, “I can’t give you anything stronger for the pain right now, Nate. It would make you too loopy. Just hang in there for another hour, then I can give you some of the good stuff. Okay?”

Lapointe nodded and tried to lie still as the boat bounced along.

Fazel took off his jacket, rolled it into a makeshift pillow, and placed it under Lapointe’s head. He then shuffled over to Jerry. “You okay, XO?”

“None the worse for wear, Harry. Just a little tired, that’s all,” answered Jerry unconvincingly. Actually, he was exhausted. The hike from the grove, while short, had been tiring. Supporting Lapointe took a lot more out of him than he thought it would. Combined with the letdown from the adrenaline rush, Jerry felt like he could sleep for the next two days.

“You done good, sir.” Fazel’s compliment was sincere. Jerry acknowledged it with a nod.

Fazel took another quick look at Lapointe; he seemed to be resting as well as he could, given the circumstances. Seeing that everything was more or less in order, he leaned toward Jerry. “Excuse me, XO. I need to check on Dr. Naseri.” A simple weary wave was Jerry’s only response.

Tired as he was though, there was no way he could sleep. The constant jostling of the boat required him to maintain a firm grasp on one of the safety rails with both hands. Besides, they weren’t clear yet. Ramey may have taken care of the patrol boats in the harbor, but there were still others out at sea. At least one had to be in hot pursuit, slowly closing the distance with them. Everything depended on how far away the other boats were when they got the call. If they were lucky, the Pasdaran patrol boats would find only empty water by the time they got here. Jerry snickered at that last thought; their track record with luck during the mission hadn’t been all that great. “Hope for the best, but plan for the worst,” he muttered aloud.

Hearing his voice, Lapointe slowly turned his head toward Jerry. The petty officer smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. “Thanks for coming back for me, XO,” he said, struggling with the words, his voice laden with pain.

“You’re welcome, Pointy. But I was just following my orders from the Boss,” Jerry said, while motioning in Ramey’s direction. “Now try and get some rest.”

“Hooyah, sir,” the weary SEAL replied.

~ * ~

Shirin was sitting in front of the control console, huddled up with one of the thermal blankets wrapped around her. She was too excited to be tired. They had made it. They had escaped from Iran. Soon she would show the world the terrible hoax that someone, whoever it was, was trying to play on Israel and her own people. Soon she would be safe. Soon she would be free. But she realized with guilt and sadness, she would also be alone. She’d lost everyone—her mother, her uncle, and her precious Yousef. She had sacrificed all so that many other innocent lives could be saved from pain and death. At that moment, a soft jab in her abdomen reminded her that she hadn’t lost everything. She still had her child—Yousef’s child. “I’m sorry, little one, I keep forgetting about you,” she whispered softly in Farsi.

“Excuse me, Dr. Naseri,” interrupted Fazel. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

She looked up, startled to find Harry standing over her. “I’m fine, Harry. Thank you. How is Mr. Pointy?”

“He’s in a lot pain. His foot got caught in the rocks and he badly twisted his damaged leg. He’ll live, but he’s going to be crankier than usual.” The young Iranian-American smiled broadly.