Larry Bond - Exit Plan

Sattari grinned, pleased that things seemed to be turning their way, “We should report this immediately.”

“Absolutely not!” shouted Omid. “Provide an initial report of the outcome of the raid, but do not mention my suspicion that Akbari and Naseri are here. Then I want you to find the local Basij commander. We need eight of his men to support us in the search.”

“Hafez, I know you don’t like Rahim, but procedure demands we report this,” argued Sattari.

“Actually, I despise the man,” Omid shot back forcefully. “But my feelings for that jackal only play a small part in my decision. Time. Time is what is against us. If we report in, we’ll have to wait for Rahim to get the message and respond. And since we don’t have the authority to mobilize the entire Basij brigade ourselves, we’ll have to sit here with our fingers up our ass waiting for him, doing nothing. Every minute we delay gives those two traitors more opportunity to escape. No, Teymour, we’ll grab some Basij and go find them ourselves.”

“Akbari is a Pasdaran captain, and he is armed,” warned Sattari. “He won’t go down without a fight.”

Omid’s laugh was laden with contempt. “Bah! If you and I, with a little help from the Basij, can’t apprehend one Pasdaran captain and a pregnant woman, then we have no right to be in our line of business.”

Although apprehensive, Sattari reluctantly nodded his agreement. Omid gave him a reassuring slap on the back as the junior agent departed to find the local Basij brigade commander. Omid is one of the best field agents in VEVAK, he thought. He knows what he is doing.

6 April 2013

0900 Local Time/1400 Zulu

U.S. Air Force C-37 Gulfstream V

They’d barely taken off when an Air Force tech sergeant said, “Ma’am, Senator, I’ve got an urgent video call from the White House Situation Room. They’re in contact with some people in Iran.”

Joanna almost leapt from her seat, with Lowell close behind her. The communications tech guided them to one side of a conference table in the midsection of the cabin. “The video conference camera will see you both,” he said, pressing a key. Then, speaking into his headset, he said, “Dr. Kirkpatrick, they’re both here.”

The communications tech pointed to one of the video screens. It showed Kirkpatrick in the situation room. A screen next to it showed her and Lowell, and she fought the urge to fix her hair. Men never notice anyway.

With Joanna on the move, Kirkpatrick had taken her place in the situation room. It was appropriate, considering that the problem was now much larger than a simple intelligence op. A war could start in the next few days, and the U.S. had to stop it, or be ready if they couldn’t.

“This is a secure line,” the technician announced.

“The president is still en route, but were going to start anyway,” Kirkpatrick announced. “Commander Mitchell’s position is not completely secure. Commander, are you still there?”

“We’re still here, sir.” Jerry’s disembodied voice wasn’t as strong as Kirkpatrick’s, and was overlaid with a little static.

“Jerry, it’s Joanna. What’s your status?” she asked. She tried, and failed, to hide her worry.

“Were safe for the moment, but our source’s contact was killed by the IRGC. We’re going to have to work up a new strategy to get out with Michigan .”

“We’re working with them as well,” Kirkpatrick added. “Joanna, I’ve explained your role to Commander Mitchell, and why I thought you should hear his information.”

President Myles appeared in the screen, and sat down next to Kirkpatrick. “Commander Mitchell, the president just joined us. Please tell him and Dr. Patterson what you told me a few moments ago.”

Jerry’s voice sounded intense, almost desperate. “The Iranians are deliberately provoking Israel into bombing Natanz. Our Iranian friend confirms that they aren’t even close to assembling a weapon. An Israeli attack gives them an excuse for their failure, and makes Israel the bad guy.”

Patterson didn’t respond immediately. In her mind, she walked through what they knew; it was entirely consistent with Jerry’s report. It made sense. “It explains Iran’s behavior, including several things that have happened in the last few days. I’m assuming you’ve been too busy to follow the news.”

Kirkpatrick shook his head “no” and added, “And there’s no hard proof, Commander? No files?”

“No files, sir. They have nothing that directly substantiates it. We’ve been transmitting for some time, now, sir,” he reminded Kirkpatrick. “There is some risk of detection.”

“Jerry,” Patterson interrupted. “Lowell is with me; we’re going to try and convince the Israelis to wait. To give us time to get all the data together that shows this is a deception.”

“So I’ve been told. Just don’t beat them bloody with the facts, Skipper,” joked Jerry. “We kind of need their cooperation.”

Patterson and Hardy both snickered at Jerry’s affectionate poke at his former commanding officer’s personality. “We’ll do our best, Jerry. But I won’t make any promises I can’t keep,” Hardy replied.

“Fair enough, sir.”

After a brief moment of silence, Kirkpatrick asked, “Joanna, any other questions? Mr. President?”

She shook her head, and then realized Jerry couldn’t see that. “Godspeed, Jerry.”

President Myles said, “Getting all of you and the information you have out of Iran is vital. Stay alive.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Out here.”

After Jerry signed off, Patterson spoke hurriedly. “Mr. President, before we break the connection, I have a question.”

“Yes, Joanna.”

“How much can we tell the Israelis?”

“Use your good judgment, Doctor,” Myles answered. “But also use your discretion. Like Ray said, we don’t have direct proof, and Opal’s information only makes sense if you believe they don’t have a weapon to test. Their intelligence plays by different rules.”

Hardy nodded. “They’ve got a lower threshold of proof. If they make a mistake, they could cease to exist as a nation. With an outcome like that, they are far more willing to shoot first and ask the hard questions later.” Myles added. “And they’ve got an attitude as well. Their intelligence people are good, and most of them think we’re not as good.”

“At least this validates your decision, Mr. President,” Kirkpatrick observed.

“Only if you accept that they’re not close to assembling a weapon,” Myles insisted. “There are people in my own administration who won’t buy this theory. And the only way we can prove it is to get our people out of Iran. Make it happen, Ray.”

6 April 2013

1715 Local Time/1415 Zulu

Bandar Kangan Police Barracks

Rahim paced impatiently in his makeshift office. He was starving for information. It had been over five hours since he ordered the coastwide alert and arrests of Seyyed and Mehry Naseri. The Shiraz office had responded quickly. Naseri’s mother was in custody and pleaded ignorance. Her questioning was underway.

Despite numerous calls to Tehran, all he knew about Seyyed Naseri’s arrest was that the Pasdaran had been ordered to raid his home. What were the results? Was the uncle in custody?

His last call to headquarters, an hour and a half earlier, had been a waste of time. All the desk officer could say was that two agents from the Bandar Abbas office, Omid and Sattari, had left for Bandar Charak shortly after the alert had been received. They had to drive to Bandar Charak and the earliest they could have been on the scene was sometime around 1500. No reports as yet had been received, but the desk officer assured him that he would be contacted as soon as any information was available. Rahim had slammed down the phone into its cradle, cursing the overly centralized command structure of the Iranian security services.