Patrick McLanahan Collection #1 (216 page)

“But it's good for getting votes in Congress for new aircraft carrier battle groups, honey.”

“Not if we have a rogue general on our hands, Stacy. Take McLanahan down, but do it
quietly
. He could ruin everything for us.”

“Don't worry about a thing, Mr. President,” Barbeau said, giving him a wink and a toss of her hair. “He's going down…one way or another.”

Barbeau met up with her chief of staff Colleen Morna outside the executive suites, and they walked quickly to her waiting car. “The trip's all set, Senator,” Morna said after they were on their way back to her office on Capitol Hill. “I have the billing codes for the whole trip from the White House, and they even gave us authorization for a C-37—a Gulfstream Five. That means we can take eight guests with us to Vegas.”

“Perfect. I got a verbal agreement from Gardner about relocating and centralizing all of the DoD network warfare units to Barksdale. Find out which contractors and lobbyists we need to organize to get that done and invite them along with us to Vegas. That should water their eyes.”

“You got that right, Senator.”

“Good. Now, what about that hard-body boyfriend of yours, Hunter Noble? He's the key to this Las Vegas trip as long as McLanahan is up in that space station. What did you dig up on him?”

“You had him pegged from day one, Senator,” Colleen said. “Our Captain Noble seems to be stuck in junior high school. For starters: he got a woman six years older than him pregnant in high school—the school nurse, I think.”

“Happens every year where I'm from, sugar. The only virgin in my hometown was an ugly twelve-year-old.”

“He was expelled, but it didn't matter because he already had enough credits to graduate two years early from high school and start engineering school,” Colleen went on. “Seems his way of celebrating graduation is getting some woman pregnant, because he did it again in both college and grad school. He married the third one, but the marriage was annulled when yet another affair was uncovered.”

“McLanahan he definitely
isn't,
” Barbeau said.

“He's an outstanding pilot and engineer, but apparently has a real problem with authority,” Morna went on. “He gets high marks on his effectiveness reports for job performance but terrible marks for leadership skills and military bearing.”

“That's no help—now he sounds like McLanahan again,” Barbeau said dejectedly. “What about the juicy stuff?”

“Plenty of that,” Morna said. “Lives in bachelor officers' quarters at Nellis Air Force Base—barely six hundred square feet of living space—and has been written up many times by base security for loud parties and visitors coming and going at all times of the day and night. He's a regular in the Officers' Club at Nellis and piles up a pretty hefty bar tab. Rides a Harley Night Rod motorcycle and has received numerous speeding and exhibitionist driving citations. License just recently returned after a three-month suspension for unsafe driving—apparently decided to race an Air Force T-6A training aircraft down the runway.”

“That's good, but I need the
real
juicy stuff, baby.”

“I saved the best for last, Senator. The list of female visitors admitted for on-base visits is as long as my arm. A few are wives of married men, a couple known bisexual women, a few prostitutes—and one was the wife of an Air Force general officer. However, visits on-base seemed to have subsided a bit in the last year…mostly because he has signature credit authority with three very large casinos in Vegas for a total of one hundred thousand dollars.”

“What?”

“Senator, the man hasn't paid for a hotel room in Vegas in over two years—he's on a first-name basis with managers, doormen, and concierges all over town, and uses comped rooms and meals almost every week,” Colleen said. “He likes blackjack and poker and is invited backstage a lot to hang out with showgirls, boxers, and headliners. Usually has at least one and many times two or three ladies in tow.”

“One hundred grand!”
Barbeau remarked. “He beats out every Nevada legislator I know!”

“Bottom line, Senator: He works hard and plays hard,” Colleen summarized. “He maintains a low profile but has made some fairly high-profile transgressions that have apparently been swept under the rug because of the work he does for the government. He's contacted regularly by defense contractors who want to hire him, some offering incredible salaries, so that probably makes him cocky and contributes to his attitude that he doesn't have to play the Air Force's games.”

“Sounds like a guy living on the edge—and that's exactly where I like 'em,” Barbeau said. “I think it's time to go pay Captain Noble a little visit—in his native habitat.”

M
ASHHAD
, I
SLAMIC
R
EPUBLIC OF
I
RAN

T
HAT NIGHT

The city of Mashhad—“City of Martyrs” in English—in northeastern Iran was the second-largest city in Iran and, as the location of the shrine of the eighth imam, Reza, it was the second-largest Shiite holy city in the world and second only to Qom in importance. Over twenty million pilgrims visited the Imam Reza shrine every year, making it as noteworthy and spiritual as the Haji, the pilgrimage to Mecca. Located in a valley between the Kuh-e-Ma'juni and Azhdar-Kuh mountain ranges, the area had brutally cold winters but was pleasant most of the rest of the year.

Located in the hinterlands of Iran, Mashhad held relatively little military or strategic importance until the rise of the Taliban regime in Afghanistan in the 1980s. Fearing that the Taliban would try to export its brand of Islam westward, Mashhad was turned into a counterinsurgency stronghold, with the Iranian Revolutionary
Guards Corps operating several strike teams, intelligence units, counterinsurgency fighter-bomber and helicopter assault and attack units from Imam Reza International Airport.

When Hesarak Buzhazi's military coup hit, Mashhad's importance quickly grew even stronger. The remnants of the Revolutionary Guards Corps was chased all the way from Tehran to Mashhad. However, Buzhazi barely had the resources to maintain his tenuous hold on the capital, so he had no choice but to let the survivors flee without mounting a determined effort to root out the commanders. With the surviving Revolutionary Guards Corps commanders freely moving about the city, and with a very large influx of Shiite pilgrims that continued almost unabated even during the growing violence, the Pasdaran had lots of recruits to choose from in Mashhad. From mosques, the marketplaces and malls, and from every street corner, the call to
jihad
against Buzhazi and the Qagev pretenders went far and wide and quickly spread.

Spurred on by the powerful spiritual aura of the city and the entrenched power of the Revolutionary Guards Corps, acting Iranian president, chief of the Council of Guardians, and senior member of the Assembly of Experts Ayatollah Hassan Mohtaz was emboldened to return from exile in Turkmenistan, where he had been living under the protection of the Russian government. At first there was talk of all of the eastern provinces of Iran splitting from the rest of the country, with Mashhad as the new capital, but the instability of the coup and the failure of Buzhazi and the Qagevs to form a government postponed such discussions. Perhaps all Mohtaz had to do was encourage the faithful to
jihad,
continue to raise money to fund his insurgency, and wait—Tehran might drop right back into his hands soon enough all by itself.

Three full divisions of the Revolutionary Guards Corps, over one hundred thousand strong, were based in and around Mashhad, nearly the entire surviving complement of frontline elite troops. Most of the Pasdaran forces, two divisions, were infantry, including two mechanized infantry brigades. There was one aviation brigade with counterinsurgency aircraft, attack and assault helicopters, transports, and
air defense battalions; one armored brigade with light tanks, artillery, and mortar battalions; and one special operations and intelligence brigade that conducted demolition, assassination, espionage, surveillance, interrogation, and specialized communications missions such as propaganda broadcasts. In addition, another thirty thousand al-Quds paramilitary forces were deployed within the city itself, acting as spies and informers for the Pasdaran and theocratic government-in-exile.

The Revolutionary Guards Corps' headquarters and strategic center of gravity was Imam Reza International Airport, situated just five miles south of the Imam Reza shrine. However, all of the tactical military units at the airport were relocated to make room for a new arrival: an S-300OMU1
Favorit
air defense regiment from the Russian Federation.

The S-300 strategic air defense system was considered one of the finest in the world, equal to the American PAC-3 Patriot missile system. An S-300 battery consisted of a long-range three-dimensional scanning acquisition radar, a target engagement and missile guidance radar, and twelve trailers each loaded with four missiles, along with maintenance, crew support, and security vehicles. One such battery was set up at the airport, with another northwest and a third positioned west of the city. The S-300 missile was effective against targets flying as low as thirty feet aboveground, as high as one hundred thousand feet, as fast as Mach 3, as far out as one hundred and twenty miles, and deadly against even low-flying cruise missiles and theater ballistic missiles.

The S-300s were augmented by the Tor-M1 air defense system, which were tracked armored vehicles that fired eight high-speed, short-range radar-guided anti-aircraft missiles from vertical launch tubes. The Tor-M1 was designed to protect mobile headquarters vehicles, vehicle marshaling areas, refueling areas, and ammunition dumps from attack helicopters, unmanned aerial vehicles, and low-flying subsonic tactical bombers. Although the Tor-M1 had a crew of three, it was designed to be a “set and forget” system, allowing for fully autonomous engagements, or it could be tied into
the S-300's fire control system to form an integrated air defense system. Together they formed an almost impenetrable shield around Mashhad.

That day, Mashhad was one of the most heavily defended cities on planet Earth…and it was about to be put to the test.

About two hours before dawn, the first alert was issued from the long-range air defense radar at S-300 battery number two, located thirty miles northwest of Mashhad: “Alarm, alarm, alarm, this is
Syeveer
battery, high-speed low-altitude target inbound, bearing two-eight-zero, range one-fifty, velocity nine-six-five, altitude nine-zero.”

“
Syeveer,
this is
Tsentr,
acknowledged,” the tactical action officer, Captain Sokolov, responded. His tactical display showed three high-speed, low-altitude targets heading toward Mashhad. “Contact, sir,” he reported to the regimental commander. “Looks like a terrain-following bomb run, right where you thought they'd be.”

“Completely predictable,” Colonel Kundrin, the air defense regimental commander, said confidently. As if sensing that something might happen that morning, he had been dressed and at his post in the regimental air defense command center on the top floor of the administration building at Reza International hours earlier. “The planes may change over the years, but the tactics remain the same. We placed that battery in perfect position—the bomber is trying to terrain-mask down the valley, but the mountains funnel right down to where we placed that battery. A fatal flaw in their mission planning. He can't continue straight ahead, and if he pops up over the ridges he'll be exposing himself even more.”

“Too fast and too low for a B-2 stealth bomber—this must be a B-1 bomber,” Sokolov surmised. “And they haven't launched their hypersonic cruise missiles either.”

“I don't think they have any stealth bombers left after President Gryzlov and General Darzov expertly pounded their bases and caught the fools flat-footed on the ground,” Kundrin said. “Besides,
this is not the American air force we're up against—it's just McLanahan, the general that went crazy up in space. He's probably fired all his missiles already. Tell
Syeveer
to engage at optimal range, and be sure to watch for a trailing aircraft. If he's got more than one bomber, he'll either be in close trail or attacking from a different axis. I don't want anyone to slip inside.”

Sokolov relayed the order. “Order to engage confirmed, sir, fifteen seconds to go…wait one! Sir,
Zapat
battery reports new hostile target inbound, bearing two-five-zero, range one hundred, altitude one hundred, speed eight-seventy and increasing!”
Zapat
was the westernmost battery, situated fifty miles west of Mashhad.

“I knew it! Predictable, all too predictable,” Kundrin said happily. “Looks like we placed that number three battery in a perfect place too—covering the Binalud ridgeline west of the city. If I were to plan an attack on the airport, I'd hug the ground along the ridge, then pop around the end of the ridge and launch missiles right at rollout. That's exactly what McLanahan did—and we were in exactly the right spot to nail him! He'll have his bomb doors open and his radar signature will be massive! Tell
Zapat
to engage when ready!”

Each battery had three missile trailers, separated by several miles but linked to each other via microwave datalink, each carrying four 48N6 vertical-launch interceptor missiles which were already raised to launch position. Once the order to attack was given and the proper attack mode set—launch at optimal range—the engagement was virtually automatic. As soon as the target came within range, a nitrogen gas catapult pushed the missile out of the launch tube to a height of about thirty feet and the rocket motor ignited, accelerating the missile to greater-than-a-mile-per-second velocity in less than twelve seconds. Three seconds later, a second missile automatically fired to assure a kill. The S-300's missiles climbed to an altitude of only twenty thousand feet, guided to a predicted intercept point.

“Status?” the regimental commander asked.

“Batteries engaging targets, four missiles in the air,” Sokolov reported. “Targets making only minimal evasive maneuvers and little jamming. Solid lock-on.”

“The last act of overconfidence,” Kundrin said. “They have no room to maneuver in any case. Too bad they're unmanned aircraft, eh, Captain?”

“Yes, sir. I'm concerned about those T-waves, or whatever they hit our fighter with.”

“We'll see in a moment, won't we?”

“Missiles tracking perfectly…targets making slightly more aggressive maneuvers…channel-hop away from jamming, still locked on…three…two…one…now.”

There were no other reports from the tactical action officer, which confused the regimental commander. “TAO, report!”

“Sir…sir, both missiles reporting ground contact!” Sokolov said in a low, confused voice. “Negative warhead detonation. Complete miss!”

“Release batteries and launch again!” Kundrin shouted. “Target range and bearing?”

“Second volley processing…missile three launched…missile four launched,” Sokolov said. “Target range nine-zero, bearing steady at two-eight-zero.”

“What of battery three? Status?”

“Battery three engagement…” And then his voice cut off with a sharp intake of breath.

Kundrin flew out of his seat and stared at the display. It was unbelievable…“They
missed
?” he exclaimed. “Another ground impact?”

“Battery three re-engaging…missile three launch…missile four…”

“Say range and bearing on battery three's target?”

“Range eight-zero, bearing steady at two-five-zero.”

“That…that doesn't make sense,” Kundrin said. “Both target bearings did not change even though they fell under attack? Something's not—”

“Sir, batteries two and three second-engagement missiles show ground impact as well!” Sokolov said. “All engagements missed! Battery two re-engaging. Battery three—”

“Negative! All batteries tight!” Kundrin shouted. “Inhibit auto engage!”

“Repeat that last, sir?”

“I said,
all batteries tight, inhibit auto engagement
!” Kundrin shouted. “We're being meaconed!”

“Meaconed? You mean, jammed, sir?”

“They're broadcasting false targets on our displays and making us fire at ghosts,” Kundrin said.

“But we have full countermeasures and anti-jam algorithms in place, sir,” Sokolov said. “Our systems are in perfect working order.”

“We're not being jammed, dammit,” Kundrin said. “Something's
inside
our system. Our computers believe they are processing actual targets.”

The command network phone rang; only the regimental commander could answer it.
“Tsentr.”

“This is
Rayetka
.” It was General Andrei Darzov himself, calling from Moscow. “We copied your notification of an attack response, but now we see you have canceled all engagements. Why?”

“Sir, I think we're being meaconed—we're reacting to false targets generated by our own sensors,” Kundrin said. “I've inhibited automatic responses until…”

“Sir, battery two S-300 and Tor units receiving automatic engagement commands and are preparing to launch!” Sokolov shouted.

“I
gave no such orders
!” Kundrin shouted. “Countermand those orders! All batteries tight!”

“
Tsentr,
are you positive those are false targets?” Darzov asked.

“Every missile launched so far has hit the ground,” Kundrin said. “Not one of our units has reported visual, optronic, or noise contact even though the targets are at very low altitude.”

“S-300 battery two launching against new multiple inbound
high-speed targets!” Sokolov reported. He ran over and pushed the communications officer out of the way, slapping on his headset. “
Syeveer
and
Zapat
batteries, this is
Tsentr
TAO, batteries tight, repeat, batteries tight! Ignore the computer's indications!” He hurriedly made out a date-time code for authentication—but as he did so, he watched as still more S-300 and Tor-M1 units launched missiles. “All units, this is
Tsentr
TAO, stop launch! Repeat, stop launch!”

“Stop those damned units from launching, Captain,
now
!” Kundrin shouted. There were now more targets appearing on the display—flying in exactly the same tracks, speed, altitude, and bearing as the first sets of targets! Soon battery one, the S-300 company at Reza International Airport, was beginning to launch missiles. “
Rayetka,
this is
Tsentr,
we're picking up more inbound hostile targets, but they're flying the exact same speed, altitude, and track as the first hostiles! Recommend we stop all responses and go to standby on all sensors. We're being spoofed, I'm positive.”