Peter Kirsanow: Target Omega

“We’re all grateful that you’re all right. Jim tells me you have information on a planned Iranian EMP strike on Israel. As a preliminary matter, Ms. Perry, what makes you believe that the information is reliable?”

“Mr. President.” Olivia’s voice sounded strong and confident to everyone in the room except the person who knew her best. Brandt recognized that Olivia was both nervous and scared. “The information comes from Senate Intelligence counsel Julian Day, who confesses to working with the Russians and, by extension, the Iranians, to coordinate an EMP strike.”

Expressions of amazement covered the faces in the Situation Room. “And how did you obtain this information?” Marshall asked.

“Mr. President, Michael Garin obtained the information from Day. Mr. Garin is standing next to me right now.” The expressions of amazement became more pronounced. Several individuals leaned toward the speaker.

“Where is Mr. Day at this moment?”

“He’s in another room nearby, guarded by DGT personnel.”

Marshall scanned the faces of everyone in the room. A few nodded as if to somehow validate the legitimacy of the information Perry was about to convey.

“Okay, Ms. Perry. Time is of the essence. Just give me the headlines.”

“Mr. President, within the next eight hours, Iran will launch several missiles, all but one of which carries a nuclear warhead with a yield approximating the bombs dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Missiles will be launched — I’m having Dan Dwyer forward the precise coordinates to Secretary Merritt and General Taylor as we speak — from sites in northern Iran between the Caspian Sea and the North Alborz Protected Area… and all but one of the missiles will detonate over various targets in Israel.”

“All but one?” Marshall asked.

“Yes, Mr. President. The final missile, with a one-megaton yield, will be launched toward the United States. It’s set to detonate at an altitude of one hundred twenty miles somewhere between Kansas City and Chicago, creating an electromagnetic pulse that will cover two-thirds of the continental United States.”

The room fell into stunned silence for several seconds as its occupants sought to absorb the enormity of what they’d just heard.

As multiple questions began to percolate among them, James Brandt knifed through the confusion. “Olivia,” Brandt said. “Jim here. Two questions: Iran’s missiles do not have the capability of hitting the United States. They can barely be certain to hit Israel with any degree of accuracy. Am I correct in assuming that the Russians provided that capability to the Iranians?”

“That’s correct, Professor. The Russians and North Koreans have been working with the Iranians for the last two and a half years — Day says to modify the Shahab-3, increasing both distance and accuracy as well as modifying the Shahab’s payload capacity for a larger warhead to detonate over the US.”

“Second,” Brandt resumed, “an Iranian nuclear strike on Israel can destroy enough of that country’s strategic capacity that Iran could survive a retaliatory strike. But surely the Iranians know that they wouldn’t even make a dent in our nuclear capability, and a retaliatory strike by the United States would annihilate them. How does Day explain that?”

“The Iranians don’t know they’re hitting us,” Olivia replied.

“What in the world do you mean, Ms. Perry?” Marshall asked.

“Just a moment, Mr. President,” Olivia said, handing Dwyer’s phone to Garin.

“Pardon me, Mr. President. This is Mike Garin. Sir, the Iranians don’t know that one of the missiles is targeted at the United States because the Russians controlled the project — the development of the nuclear missiles. They never let the Iranians get near the computers, guidance, telemetry, or anything but the material for the warhead. And they let them work on the warhead only because they didn’t want the payload’s nuclear signature to be Russian.

“The Iranians believe all the missiles are targeted toward Israel. The strike will all but obliterate their enemy. Iran is willing to accept the losses from whatever limited retaliatory strike Israel may be able to mount. The mullahs believe they’ll be heroes for destroying Israel.

“The Russians, for their part, will have total deniability regarding the EMP attack on the United States. The United States and every other country in the world will be tracking the missile launch from Iran that detonates over the United States. Everyone will blame Iran. It’s an Iranian missile, launched by Iran, from Iranian soil.

“Mr. President, the missile aimed at the United States is located inside a foothill near Mount Azad Kuh, south of Chalus. To my knowledge, it’s not a site previously identified by either the CIA or Mossad. There are two other sites previously unknown to us located at Shahrud and another at Gorgan. Those sites, among others, will hit Israeli targets.”

“Mr. Garin, one moment, please,” Marshall said.

The president pointed at Secretary Merritt and Chairman Taylor. “Gentlemen, I gather you have the location for this Mount Azad Kuh?”

“Yes, sir,” the men responded in unison.

“Do anything and everything you have to do to destroy that site right now. Go.”

The two men moved rapidly toward secure phones at the other end of the room. Marshall pointed to Ted Lawrence. “Tell Prime Minister Chafetz everything we’ve just heard. Wait until the Pentagon informs you that our forces are in the air, and then inform our NATO allies, starting with the Brits. Meanwhile, I’ll have a talk with President Mikhailov personally. Have Carole Tunney demand an emergency meeting of the Security Council. Go. ”

Marshall then turned to his chief of staff. “Iris, we’ll need to address the American people contemporaneously with our attack. Have our—”

The president abruptly stopped speaking. He and everyone else in the room were startled by the distinct sound of multiple gunshots coming over the speaker.

EASTERN SHORE, MARYLAND

JULY 17 11:21 P.M. EDT

By the time Garin got there, it was over. Dwyer, Knox, and Matt were standing on the right side of the living room, still holding their pistols. Two other DGT men stood behind them. Differing degrees of disbelief registered on their faces.

Julian Day lay dead on the other side of the living room. Several entry wounds were grouped around his chest and abdomen.

Garin lowered his weapon and gave Dwyer a puzzled look.

“What could the son of a gun have been thinking?” Knox asked no one in particular.

“He went for one of the Iranian’s weapons,” Dwyer explained. “Crazy effin’ idiot. In a room full of operators, the lawyer goes for a gun. What kind of odds did he think he was playing?”

Garin walked over to Day’s body and kicked the gun away from his side. Out of habit, Garin checked for signs of life before securing his weapon.

Outdoors, the forest came alive with lights and sounds as a spotlight from a hovering helicopter shone on the cabin. Looking behind him out the living room window, Dwyer could see more than two dozen uniformed FBI HRT personnel moving about as an amplified voice announced their presence and their intention to enter.

“Did he actually think he had any chance of getting away?” Dwyer asked.

“No chance whatsoever,” Garin replied. “No, he knew exactly what he was doing. Suicide by cop. Or in this case, by operator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Some criminologists say that suspects sometimes provoke cops as a way to commit suicide. Whether or not that’s true, Day knew he’d be cut down in an instant.”