Larry Bond - Exit Plan

They’d studied the satellite photos so often he knew it as well as the field at Pensacola, where he’d learned to fly. This one was a lot smaller, though. A single strip, twenty-seven-hundred-meters long, it ran almost straight east-west. There was a single taxiway from near the middle of the runway to a wide apron where aircraft parked, and sure enough, he could see a pair of Falcon 20 jets, their white paint almost sparkling in the sunshine. Other aircraft, a mix of helicopters and what looked like civilian light aircraft were parked to either side. He looked for the fueling arrangements, and spotted several fuel trucks parked by an admin or maintenance building. The control tower was a three-story affair, with few antennas on its roof. There was no sign of traffic control radar or instrument landing aids. Of course, the weather here was usually clear.

Ramey, using his own glasses, gently nudged Jerry’s shoulder and said softly, “XO, look about ten o’clock, near this end of the runway.”

Jerry hadn’t paid much attention to the runway itself. Looking to the left, at the near end, he saw an earthen mound, then spotted a ring of sandbags on top. Inside, a pair of soldiers was working with some sort of heavy weapon on a tripod.

“That’s a DShK heavy machine gun,” Ramey told him. “It’s like our.50 caliber.” Jerry felt his body go cold. Ramey continued, “This complicates things, but we can cope. While you’re getting the plane ready, I go over with a knife and slit their throats, just like in the movies.”

Jerry started checking other parts of the airfield. “Ahh, it looks like they’re setting up a machine gun at the other end of the runway, too. These weren’t on the overhead imagery we saw. This is recent. This is today.” Jerry could see where they were still carrying sandbags to the top of the mound.

“Okaaay,” Ramey answered. “So I get one, and Philly gets the other. That leaves Harry and you to carry Lapointe. Maybe Shirin carries one end so Harry’s free to move. We can make this work.” He paused. “Or maybe not. Look next to the hangar. In the shadow.”

One large hangar dominated the cluster of buildings that lay on the south side of the runway. It was big enough to take a small commercial airliner, although they couldn’t see what was inside. Parked in the shade, probably to avoid the sun as much as for concealment, were a pair of armored vehicles. Each had a flat top that led to an angled front, and a small circular turret with a gun barrel sat in the middle.

“Those aren’t tanks, are they?” Jerry asked.

“They’re armored personnel carriers, some variant of a Russian BMP. The gun on top is a 73mm. It’s not as big as a tank gun, but bad enough. They each carry half a squad of infantry.”

“Okay, so we use a Cormorant to take out the heavy stuff and distract them while we steal the plane,” Jerry suggested.

“No good,” Ramey argued. “Once that UAV starts shooting, we can give up sneaking onto the field. They’ll go to general quarters and we’re out of luck. Let’s go around and look from a different angle.”

They worked their way farther east. This entailed another half hour of creeping and dashing, then low-crawling up another hill. Now more concerned with the airfield than the aircraft, Jerry spotted trouble the instant he used his binoculars. “I see more BMPs,” Jerry reported. He almost pointed, but remembered in time to stay low.

“I see them, too,” Ramey answered. “The rest of a platoon, five altogether.”

“And there will be troops for them, as well,” Jerry concluded.

“Oh, yeah, probably setting up more emplacements all over the airfield. They’ll use the vehicles as strongpoints.” The SEAL lieutenant backed down away from his position, then rolled onto his back.

“Do the math. We took out a squad last night. This morning the airfield is alive with troops. Maybe they’re afraid we might try to steal a plane.”

“Not anymore we’re not,” Jerry answered.

“Never say die, XO. Let’s keep looking.”

7 April 2013

1000 Local Time/0700 Zulu

1st Regiment Headquarters, 47th Salam Brigade, Bandar Lengeh

Rahim and the others had managed to find a meal, but had returned to find no news. It really was too soon to expect any developments. But he was impatient, and set Dahghan and Sattari to work calling every barracks and headquarters between Kangan and Lengeh to make sure there was no new information. He’d learned the hard way. He wouldn’t wait for them to report.

Overflowing with nervous energy, he started to organize the chaos they’d left behind. As he sorted through the documents, he found one pile laid to the side, from the Pasdaran Navy headquarters. “Did either of you see these?”

Dahghan shook his head. “No, Major.”

They were reports from last night. None of the boats had seen any hostile vessels, of course. There were reports of a distress flare being fired, and extra boats had been called in. They’d searched the area between the Farur and Lesser Tunb Islands, starting at 2045 hours, but no further signals were received, either visually or by radio. Because of the darkness, aircraft had not been used.

That was close to where the second squad had been wiped out last night. The timing was also about right. Had the fugitives found a boat and escaped to the sea? But the patrols hadn’t found anything. And if they had been on a boat, why would they attract attention by firing flares into the air?

As soon as he asked himself the question, Rahim understood. The image of a flame rising filled his mind. It wasn’t a flare, it was a missile.

He had a message to send.

7 April 2013

0800 Local Time/0600 Zulu

Ben Gurion International Airport, Tel Aviv

The C-37 was fitted for VIP transport, and they both managed a little sleep after talking late into the night about Iran, Israel, and Jerry. There’d been no new information since his last report, and the conversation swirled in her mind.

“I keep thinking about Emily,” Joanna complained. “I know we can’t tell her a thing. Even if we told her, all she could do was worry.”

“You’re worrying enough for the two of you. He’s been in bad spots before,” Hardy reassured her. “Don’t let it distract you.”

“I understand, Lowell. Is this what you felt when you commanded Memphis ?”

“Sort of. You didn’t send Jerry into this mess, but you know him, and of course you care. There are seven people on the beach, and I try to worry about all of them, even the Iranians. Go read the writeups on the SEAL team. Learn their names. Look at their faces.”

She’d fallen asleep with her tablet open to a webpage entitled “SEAL missions.”

One of their security detail had awakened Hardy an hour before landing, and he woke Joanna immediately. By the time they’d washed, dressed, and had some breakfast, the plane was ready to land at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv.

As they buckled in their seats, an Air Force staff sergeant handed them their message traffic. Most of it was classified. None of it shed any more light on Iran’s activities or Israel’s preparations.

The morning news summary was useful only for gauging the world’s stress level. Several nations had already taken sides, either urging Israel to act against Iranian aggression or supporting Iran’s right to develop its own nuclear capability. An interesting side discussion was underway about Israel’s own nuclear capability, which the country had never publicly admitted having. If a conventional attack failed to derail Iran’s nuclear ambitions, would Israel use its own weapons?