Larry Bond - Exit Plan

Ramey was working hard to keep it together. “You know, I tried to warn Vern away from Judy. I thought they were too much alike. I worried all they would ever do was butt heads. After they were married, she forgave me, then she started teasing me about how I didn’t warn her.”

Jerry started to say something, and remembered Lapointe’s lecture about sympathy. It wouldn’t help Ramey to hear how sorry Jerry was about Higgs. But just turning his face toward Ramey was enough to focus the lieutenant’s attention on Jerry.

“Why did I listen to you?” Ramey shouted. “Why didn’t I get him out of there?”

“Because I ordered you to leave him,” Jerry said. He spoke softly, with as little emotion as possible. Yelling back at someone who was already angry was rarely a good idea.

“And if I’d had half a brain, I would have ignored you. All my training, all my instincts, said to get Vern out of there, and instead I screwed up. Look what’s happened now: The mission’s been exposed, and the only way we get Vern back is by telling how he got there, which we won’t do.”

“Trying to get Higgs out of the ASDS would have taken both of us, and the battery packs were already exploding as I pushed you out the hatch. It was the right decision then and it’s even more so now,” Jerry insisted forcefully. “Imagine the effect on the mission if one or both of us had been hurt, or lost.”

“Oh, yeah, the mission,” Ramey answered caustically. “And it’s gone so well. We’ve lost half the precious cargo, my LPO is crippled, and we’re trapped in enemy territory.”

There it was. Loss of a friend, loss of a comrade, loss of a mission, all eating away at Ramey’s insides. SEALs were all about control — controlling the situation and controlling their own feelings. But Ramey was a pressure cooker. Maybe he was trying too hard, or maybe he just had too much on his plate. That much emotion had to come out somewhere. Ramey’s had come out aimed at Jerry.

“All I hear is bullshit,” Jerry answered angrily, his patience threadbare. “You can grieve all you want once we’re back on the boat. Right now we need to focus on getting out of here.”

“Let it go, Boss.” Lapointe’s voice was just as hard, more critical than Jerry’s. “The XO’s right. It sucks big-time, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s right.” He turned to Jerry and asked, “Sir, could you please take over lookout from Philly?”

Wordlessly, Jerry nodded and changed places with Phillips. Lapointe, sitting with his back against a tree, started to stand, and with Fazel and Philly helping him, got up. All four SEALs headed away from Jerry, deeper into the trees. This was SEAL business.

Jerry kept his attention focused outside the grove. The SEALs spoke quietly, but they hadn’t gone far enough away to mask the sound of their voices. The tone of the conversation was stern, with the occasional hard word, but sometimes challenging.

Seeing Ramey’s grief brought back Jerry’s own experience. He’d been navigator on a boat that had collided with another submarine. The fault lay with the other skipper, and Jerry’s own crew had been completely cleared. Not only was it not their fault, there was nothing they could have done to avoid the collision.

But men had died on both vessels. Jerry had been present, with some small influence over the situation — but not nearly enough to prevent a tragedy. Was it pride that kept asking “What if?” even when the situation was beyond your control? Should you be punished for failing when there was nothing that could be done? For some people, being at fault was better than being helpless.

A few minutes later the SEALs came back with Ramey in the lead. Swallowing hard, his jaw was tense. He walked straight over to Jerry. “You were right. It was your call to make. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy about it, but this isn’t about what makes me happy. I let you all down, and I apologize. It won’t happen again.” He made it a point to look at everyone as he said it. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

7 April 2013

1800 Local Time/1600 Zulu

Mossad Headquarters, Herzliya, Israel

Dr. Yaniv Revach, the head of Mossad, met them in the hall. “I was in a meeting when word of your arrival reached me.” He waved off the escort. “I have them from here.”

A uniformed aide came to attention as they followed Revach into his office. He closed the door with a look to his assistant that made it clear they were not to be disturbed. Motioning toward a comfortable-looking couch, he sat down wearily. “This room is one of the most private places on Earth. We will not be recorded, and nothing you say will leave here, I promise.”

Patterson didn’t keep him waiting. “It’s bad news, Doctor. We received word that our people in Iran had to abort their escape plan. They’re still relatively safe, but they’ll need a new way to get out of Iran.”

Revach didn’t say anything, but got out of his chair and walked over to a large map of Iran that almost covered one wall of his office. “After our talk earlier today I asked our signals intelligence people to report any unusual communications traffic in the area of southern Iran. You can understand that this meant reassigning resources that were involved in other tasks.”

Both Americans nodded. “I’m sure your Iran section has been very busy,” Hardy said.

“It didn’t take them long,” Revach told them. He ran his hand along the Persian Gulf coast of Iran. “Pasdaran and Basij units from Bushehr to Bandar Abbas have been mobilized, and alerts for a” — he paused to look at a paper on his desk—”Yousef Akbari and Shirin Naseri have been circulated to every police barracks in the southern provinces. There are reports of firefights, with heavy casualties among the Iranian forces.”

He sat down again. “In a way, it’s helped. We saw so much signal traffic we were worried it might relate to our own activities, or to some asymmetric plan the Iranians were preparing, but it’s just an all-out manhunt for your fugitives. This is them, isn’t it, Akbari and Naseri?”

“Yes, that’s them,” Hardy admitted. He looked over at Joanna, and then explained, “They had hoped to steal an aircraft at an airfield near Bandar Lengeh, but at the last moment the airfield’s defenses were heavily reinforced.”

Revach nodded knowingly. “Our analysis indicates that they will find it the same anywhere they go. It is unlikely that we will be looking at the files on your flash drive any time soon.”

“Our people are very resourceful,” Patterson insisted. “I’m sure that they will have another plan very soon. Look at how long they’ve evaded capture so far.”

Revach shook his head. “I must disagree. If they had trouble getting out of Iran before, it will be considerably harder now.” He smiled. “Yes, they have stayed free, but also left destruction in their wake.”

The director stood again, and paced, as if impatient. “This is disappointing news. This affair will probably end badly, for them, or the United States, and possibly for both. Your government should make the necessary preparations.”

“As long as they’re free, there’s a chance,” Patterson insisted. “We’ll keep you informed, every step of the way…”

“No, Dr. Patterson. We agreed to delay any hypothetical operation, and there will be no operation today. However, preparations for tomorrow must begin soon. Hypothetically, of course.”

Hardy stated, “Dr. Revach, if Israel attacks, you will be doing exactly what the Iranians want.”

“So you said earlier, based on information you haven’t even seen. Mossad has more rigorous standards.”