The Gulf (54 page)

Charaler ordered ahead two-thirds. Dan stood rigidly at the chart table, recommending courses and speeds. The dawn showed them the pier, stark and shadowed in the flat rose-colored light. On it, as they approached, they could see the party of officers and technicians waiting.

He could see already that one of them was Stansfield Hart.

29

The U.S. Embassy, Manama, Bahrain

BLAIR stood at the conference table, watching as the men filed in. Twelve sharp, and it looked like everyone was here. Everyone—no, the two ambassadors were still absent.

There was a stir in the corridor, a murmur.

Shaw stalked in, impeccable, his distant smile sweeping the room like a radar. Beside him, an older man, green sport coat, glasses, slicked-back hair. Two Foreign Service types trotted behind them with briefcases and walkie-talkies.

And that, she thought, rounds it off. She moved forward and caught the older man's eye. “Hello, Jerry.”

“Well, hello, Blair, nice to see you again.” They shook hands, Weber grinning as if he was here for a flossing appointment.

Jerry Weber was a political appointee, a California banker whose years of support of the President had been rewarded in the usual way. Unfortunately, the exotic, harmless post he'd been assigned to—Bahrain—had turned unexpectedly turbulent for most of his tenure.

She glanced around at the mix of suits and uniforms. The attachés, of course, and Hart's staffers, Byrne, Trudell, Ritchie. One was in Army green, Colonel Saunders, General Cannon's rep from CENTCOM. No one made jokes about his name. She nodded to Shaw and got an air-conditioned smile in reply. Had he managed to smooth things over with Prince Ismail? It didn't seem like a good time to ask.

Weber, to an aide: “Time yet? Uh-huh? Okay—gentlemen, ladies, please follow me.”

The Bubble opened off the regular conference room. It was a little larger than a walk-in closet, bare-walled except for framed photos of President Reagan and Sheikh al-Khalifa. The table looked like it had needed stripping and refinishing for longer than she'd been alive. A technician was just leaving; he waved a meter, murmuring “It's clean, sir” to Weber. There were only six chairs. He sent the attachés back for more.

At length, everyone had coffee who wanted it, the door was closed, and the ambassador, watching his aide fiddle with a cassette recorder, said to Hart, “We don't have very good ventilation in here, Admiral. If you don't mind—”

Hart grunted and looked around for an ashtray. There weren't any. He stubbed out his cigarette in a trash can and resumed his seat.

Weber kicked off. “Uh, gentlemen, Miss Titus, this is an ad hoc working group to coordinate a military initiative against irregular forces in the Gulf. The basis for it is a presidential order we received at four o'clock this morning. B.B., that thing on now?”

“Yessir, Mr. Ambassador.”

“We have present the honorable Harrison Shaw, Ambassador to Saudi Arabia; attachés of the three services from this embassy; Mr. Dennis Hsiao, CIA; Ms. Blair Titus, Senate Armed Services Committee staff; and Rear Admiral Stansfield Hart, COMIDEASTFOR, who will be responsible for military planning and coordination, with his staff. Also present are myself, Gerald Weber, Ambassador to Bahrain, and my assistant, B. B. Mease. Uh, Admiral, would you like to chair?”

“I think you had better, sir. I'm not sure how these interagency things go.”

“All right. Has everyone read the message?”

Everyone had. Weber's assistant read it aloud, anyway. From the Joint Chiefs of Staff, via CENTCOM, it directed COMIDEASTFOR to plan and execute a time-urgent reprisal against a Pasdaran base. He was directed to conduct preliminary liaison with local diplomatic and intelligence authorities to ensure that the action chosen would be suitable, feasible, and acceptable; that is, damaging to the Pasdaran, reasonably sure of success, and in accord with wider policy. The strike was to take place within seventy-two hours, to link it with recent Iranian attacks.

“Any questions on the order?” said Weber.

“What are we going to hit?” asked Hsiao.

“Uh, I think we'll need both your input and the Admiral's on that. Admiral?”

“I am rather constrained on what to recommend.” Hart drummed his fingers on the table, examined a file Byrne handed him, and added, “By the fact that we have no hard intelligence yet on the location of our major threat.”

“You're talking about your … submarine, I suppose,” said Weber.

“That's right, sir. I've been running patrols, requested satellite reconaissance sweeps, and we've been listening around the clock for electronic emissions. Not a peep. Whoever's running that boat, he's good.”

“But
is
there a submarine?” rumbled Saunders. “I hear there is from the Navy, but so far as I know, there's been no evidence—”

“There's been a sighting and one, possibly two torpedoings.”

“A possible sighting, a possible torpedoing—”

“Let's stick to the issue, gentlemen. We need to settle on a target.”

Hart gave Saunders a final glare and turned back to Weber. “Yessir. Therefore, I suggest either Farsi Island or, better yet, Bushehr. They're the biggest thorns in our side up here as far as fixed bases are concerned. There are six Boghammers forward-based at Farsi, supported from the mainland.”

“Farsi Island or Bushehr. Any objections to those choices?”

With the doors closed, the little room was becoming stuffy. Blair was beginning to sweat. She shook her blouse loose under her arms and said, “Bushehr is on the mainland. It's an Iranian Navy base and air facility. Wouldn't you be taking on the regular armed forces as well as the Pasdaran, if you attacked there?”

“That's not a drawback, that's an advantage,” said Hart. “If the wraps are off, I want to hurt them as much as I can. Go for their fleet. Sink some frigates, not just motorboats.”

Shaw said, “I'd like to register an objection.”

“Go ahead, Ambassador.”

Again, as she'd noticed in Riyadh, he paused before he spoke. She could see him, like a chess player, computing several moves ahead. “I don't presume to speak for the Saudis, but perhaps that's my role here. I feel sure they would object to any attack on the mainland of Iran. They prefer deescalation, not escalation, in their end of the Gulf.” He stopped, then added, “For the same reason, I would object to Farsi.”

“Why?” said Blair.

“It's too close to their offshore fields. If Farsi alone is attacked, the losses can be quickly replaced, as Admiral Hart has pointed out. We'll see lots of rigs on fire then. Saudi rigs.”

“I support that,” said Weber.

“Excuse me?” said Hart.

“I mean, I support Mr. Shaw's objection to Farsi Island.”

Hart said angrily, “Well, gentlemen, where does that leave me? You've just ruled out the two best targets in the northern Gulf. It seems to me—”

“In the
northern
Gulf, Admiral,” said Blair. “Aren't there other Pasdaran bases? Not so close to the oil-producing areas?”

“Abu Musa,” said Hsiao.

“Yes, Abu Musa, that was also on my short list.”

“That would be more acceptable,” said Shaw. “There isn't the high density of oil fields down there. It's also far enough away from the Saudis and Bahrainis to decouple a strike from them. They can denounce it, if they like.”

“But what about the UAE and Oman?” said Saunders.

“I don't see anybody here representing them,” said Weber. He smiled.

“How does Abu Musa look to you operationally?” Blair asked Hart.

“It's a tough nut. But not as challenging as Bushehr.”

“Fewer air defenses,” said Hsiao. “According to our sources.”

“Fewer defenses, and it's close enough to get planes in for a suppressive strike. I'll have to get a message out to
Forrestal,
turn her around; she's on her way to Kenya right now.”

“Wait a minute. Are we talking—what kind of strike are we talking about, I'm confused,” said Weber. “Is it an air attack? Purely air, like Libya?”

“Can't do that, I'm afraid,” said Hart. “I've thought a lot about that, about how to hit these Boghammers.” He went over the high-attack versus low-level bombing problem. “Even an isolated base like Abu Musa is going to be equipped with antiair defenses. Mr. Hsaio, perhaps you could supply details—”

“Mostly Chinese. Peking's been selling them a lot of shoulder-fired weapons.”

“Can we use B-52s?” said Weber then, smirking a little. They all looked at him.

“What B-52s?” said Saunders.

“The ones that are flying in. The wing that's going to base here.”

This occasioned some discussion. Most of those present had heard the rumor. “It's got to be gonzo secret, if I've never heard of it,” said the CENTCOM rep at last. “But anyway, they aren't here now, so let's plan with what we've got.”

“What about Iranian air, out of Bandar
Abb
ā
s?” asked one of the attachés.

“I think three or four F-18s will keep them in the icebox,” said Hart. “They've been pretty tame lately. Parts shortage, probably. Intel, you concur?”

Hsiao and Byrne both nodded, caught each other doing it, and traded scowls.

“One point I want to make,” Blair said. Their heads turned. “This action must be decisive, whatever the target. This is a one-time dispensation, if you will, in response to media pressure about the shoot-down of Four Two One. Congress is taking a risk by conceding it to the administration. If it fails, or if the IRG continues to operate out of the base afterward, the Hill will share the blame. They'll look for a way to ensure it doesn't happen again. And it is quite possible that the result will be a sizable reduction, if not a complete withdrawal, of U.S. forces in the Gulf.”

They were silent for a while, each pondering this in his own way. It was very hot in the room now. At last, Ambassador Weber cleared his throat. “Uh, I take it the consensus of the principals, then—have we agreed on Abu Musa?”

They seemed to have agreed. “Now,” he went on, “I know this is your ball park, Admiral, how the strike will be carried out, but do you have any ideas? Can you give us, uh, a rough sketch?”

“It'll be pretty rough,” said Hart. He stared at one of the portraits. “There's a mine field to contend with. That will have to be swept, or at least accessed with a cleared channel, to the anchorage, where the boats moor. The shore facilities include fuel dumps, workshops, barracks, and the like. Looks like light construction; they weren't there two years ago.

“My initial idea is to do a high-level strike with A-6s from
Forrestal,
concentrating on the shore installation. Then send in two or three low-value surface units and shell the dickens out of the Boghammers and any remaining facilities at close range.”

“What's that, a ‘low-value unit'?” said Weber. “I'm not familiar with the usage.”

“A destroyer-type ship.” Hart paused. “I have several currently unassigned to patrol duties. I have two specifically in mind for this tasking.”

And Blair felt suddenly uneasy. Destroyer-type ships … didn't that mean frigates? And currently unassigned to patrol duties … no, his ship was supposed to be getting under way.… Before she thought through what she was asking she said, “Which two ships, Admiral?”

“Charles Adams.
And
Turner Van Zandt.”

She summoned everything she had to look cool and distant. This was not what she was here for. It was a breach of professionalism even to ask.

But she did anyway. “Why those two?”

“Well,
Adams
is what we call a gunship. Older, faster, better-armed for shore bombardment.
Van Zandt
—she's well trained and the captain is aggressive. Maybe too aggressive. But I think he's a good choice for this kind of action.” His eyes left the wall, suddenly sharpening on her. “Unless you know something I don't?”

She heard the weakness in her voice as she said, “Don't you have several frigates available?”

They were all looking at her now. “Blair?” said Weber. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing. The choice is up to you, of course.”

“Admiral,” said Shaw then, “these aircraft, these A-6s. How will they be armed?”

“I hadn't gotten down to that level yet, sir. That will be a decision for the air arm. They'll analyze the recon photos and calculate the optimal bomb load and type.”

“It would be better if they didn't use cluster bomb units. That's my advice.”

“No CBUs?”

“No.”

Hart was reddening now. “And what in God's name, sir, is the rationale for that request?”

“The Saudis are sensitive to CBU use because the Israelis have used them in Lebanon, and we refused to sell them to the Arabs. Now, if we employ them against—granted, Iranians, but still Moslems—I don't think it would read well in the Arab states.”