Larry Bond - Exit Plan

Admiral Hughes was clearly unhappy with the president’s response, but he remained silent.

“What are our options then?” asked Dewhurst.

“Very few, I’m afraid,” Joanna answered. “Extraction by combat rubber raiding craft is still an option, although the risk of detection increases the farther Michigan is away. Stealing a fishing vessel from one of the local harbors is another option, but most fishing dhows are quite slow, about ten knots maximum speed, and the Iranians have beefed up their antismuggling patrols in the last two years making detection likely. We’ve also considered obtaining a fast boat from a neighboring country and having a SEAL team attempt to sneak in. If they are discovered, they’ll at least have the speed to get away. We’ve ruled out an extraction by air, as there’s an early warning radar at Tahari, less than twenty miles to the southeast. The Chinese radar upgrade at that location makes detection almost a certainty. With the tactical air base at Bushehr being only one hundred miles away, the probability of interception by fighters is high.”

“Which option has the best chance of success?” Myles demanded.

Patterson hesitated, and looked down at Kirkpatrick who nodded.

“Sir, I can’t give you a numerical probability of success for each of the options. We haven’t had time to run simulations or even game it out. However, from a qualitative perspective, the consensus of the intelligence and special warfare people is that stealth is the primary factor. If stealth fails, then speed becomes the driver. The combat rubber raiding craft option has high stealth, but low speed. The fishing boat option has low stealth and low speed. The fast boat has moderate stealth and high speed. Since the raiding craft option maximizes stealth, it’s the one that is recommended.”

“And the closer Michigan can get to the coast, the better our chances become,” emphasized Hughes.

“I’m not hard of hearing, Admiral Hughes,” countered Myles. “I am fully aware of what you would like me to do. But I remain convinced that sending Michigan into Iranian territorial waters is pure, unadulterated foolishness. To be honest, I wasn’t all that comfortable with sending in a minisub. But collectively you all made a good argument for the operation because it was believed the payoff was potentially substantial and the risk was low. Well, for whatever reason, the low-risk operation failed. And now I’m sensing considerable pressure to go against my better judgment and send Michigan in. All the Iranians have to do is see it and it’s a casus belli. With the current unstable situation, this would be disastrous.”

Hughes’s face was taut, his speech measured. “Mr. President, I am merely doing my duty as one of your military advisors to ensure you have all the information you need to—”

“This is nonsense!” interrupted Myles angrily. “Can’t you people see that we’re at a tipping point? Can any of you give me a good reason why I should risk escalating this crisis further by allowing Michigan to enter Iranian territorial waters?”

General Duvall, the NIC chairman, raised his hand. “I can give you one reason, sir. Although, at the moment it may appear trivial.”

“Go on, Gordon,” Myles responded testily as he waved off his chief of staff. Alvarez had been pointing maddeningly at his watch; they were late for the VTC with Michigan.

“General Moradi’s press conference was unusually timely and well orchestrated. Less than an hour after the report’s release, he delivered a well-polished statement with excellent media coverage. He was also unusually forthcoming about their technical difficulties. Normally, the Iranians make up successes rather than admit failures. I could have bought this if it had been the usual extemporaneous ranting on just Iranian TV. But what we saw smacks of deliberate planning, as if he knew exactly what the IAEA’s report would say. While I can’t rule out the possibility of a leak, the IAEA has been excessively paranoid about their reports as of late and has successfully kept them confidential until they are released. This latest report was several days late, with no explanation as to why from the Board of Governors. The precise timing of all these events is a little too coincidental for my liking.” Duvall paused as he gave time for this key point to sink in.

“Since March we’ve been getting wildly conflicting information on Iran’s intentions and progress. We’ve seen two themes from multiple credible sources that are at polar extremes. Logic demands that both cannot be right. Moradi’s press release has only sharpened the contrast; one of these themes is false. I agree that we are at a tipping point, Mr. President, but without better insight into what is true and what is false, any action we take will be at a considerable gamble. I am convinced that the information that Opal possesses is absolutely critical to our understanding the true nature of this game.”

Total silence descended on the conference room. Myles stared coldly at the NIC chairman, and slowly, a faint smile appeared on the president’s face. “Well put, General. Well put. So we go with the rubber raiding craft option then?”

Before anyone could answer, Kirkpatrick chimed in. “I agree that the combat rubber raiding craft is the option we should go with, but I would also like to propose a compromise, sir.”

President Myles leaned forward, intrigued. “What do you have in mind, Ray?”

“Sir, I recommend that you let Captain Guthrie walk right up to the line before he deploys the raiding craft. He can then back off while the SEALs make their run, returning again only to affect the recovery. By temporarily relaxing your restrictions a little, you can cut the distance the SEALs are exposed by twenty percent while minimizing the risk.”

Joanna strained to maintain a calm expression; wanting to hide the excitement she felt as she watched her boss work. She had seen Ray Kirkpatrick “pull rabbits out of a hat” before during the transition period when the president-elect had backed himself into a corner, and every time, Kirkpatrick’s solution had paid off big-time. This simple compromise would only reinforce the widely held belief among the White House staff that he was Solomon incarnate.

“Done!” shouted Myles with approval. “Milt, get Captain Guthrie on the line.”

3 April 2013

2125 Local Time/1825 Zulu

USS Michigan, Battle Management Center

Kyle Guthrie looked first at his watch, and then the clock on the bulkhead as he paced around the BMC. Shaking his head and grumbling, he continued doing laps around the planning table. Harper, Simmons, and Frederickson sat in absolute silence, doing their best impression of church mice; the skipper was pissed. The VTC was supposed to have begun ten minutes ago, and the screen was still blank. Agitated and impatient, Guthrie fumed as the seconds ticked by.

“What the hell is taking them so long,” he growled. Guthrie always knew the beefed-up communications capability of a SSGN was a double-edged sword. It provided great benefits for planning and executing Tomahawk strikes or SEAL ops, and its impact on crew morale was without question, but it had its drawbacks as well — anybody in his chain of command could get a hold of him at a moment’s notice. And to communicate, he had to stick a mast in the air, a mast that made Michigan more vulnerable to detection. High-level VTCs were a particular pain. They always went longer than he liked. On more than one occasion after an excruciatingly long-winded exchange, he was heard to mumble, “Silent service, my ass!”

“If that contact gets much closer, I’ll have to dunk the masts and move,” the captain snarled, as he pointed to an auxiliary display with fire control data showing an Iranian patrol boat nearby.