Larry Bond - Exit Plan

“We can’t let you do this,” Hardy insisted. “Another war will not solve your problems.”

“What will you do, take away my car keys?” Revach’s voice hardened. “We are not drunk, and we are a sovereign nation. Many Muslim countries think we are your cat’s paw. Don’t believe the lie yourself.”

“I cannot predict what the political cost to Israel will be in the U.S., how the U.S. public and Congress will react.”

“More threats, Senator? We kept our end of the agreement. You failed to do your part.”

Patterson and Hardy both absorbed the harsh words. Hardy’s answer was just as harsh. “I believe we will get our people and the information out of Iran, and I believe it will prove that Iran does not have any nuclear devices. If we release the information after your raid, it will show Israel acted rashly, that Israel refused to listen. And with Natanz destroyed — nobody doubts that you can level the place — there will be no way to prove who was right.”

“So if we act in our own self-defense, you would undermine us? Stab us in the back? Israel has stood alone before. Maybe in the end, we are always alone. Tell your president that Israel will act as it sees fit, and will remember others’ actions as well.”

Revach added, “Since your purpose in coming here has been accomplished, there is no further need for you to remain in Israel. Leave without delay.” He opened the door, and his aide was standing outside, accompanied by two security guards.

Silently, the two Americans left, with the aide leading the way and the two guards in back. They stayed with Patterson and Hardy all the way to the lobby. Their car was waiting, and Joanna found herself glad to see her security detail, just to look at a friendly face.

As they drove away, a sense of failure washed over her. She grasped Lowell’s hand. His face was a grim as she’d ever seen. “I’ve never been declared persona non grata,” he said. “Doesn’t feel very good.”

“I don’t like it either,” she answered. “I’ve never had a whole country mad at me before.” It was supposed to be a joke, but she could not make herself laugh. “What do we do now?”

“We tell the president we failed,” Hardy answered bluntly. “That the Israelis are emotionally committed to attacking a blood enemy. That we have pissed them off, and that we’ll probably have to make them even madder before they will stop. It’s time for tough love.”

7 April 2013

1900 Local Time/1600 Zulu

The Oasis, East of Mollu

Ramey wouldn’t stop talking about the airfield, and despite his earlier assessment, kept looking for cracks in the defenses. “I’ve memorized the layout, and no defense is perfect. We find the hole and we’re in and then gone. We use one Cormorant to create a diversion some distance away. That draws off some of them, then we use the second one to blast a hole in the airfield’s defenses and get a plane out of here.”

“Boss, the Cormorant can only carry eight rockets,” Phillips said from his lookout position. “It’s too big a fight even if some of the defenders are pulled… Everybody down and freeze!”

They’d actually practiced what to do, and Jerry half-rolled into a hole right next to him, pulling a carefully selected branch over himself. The others did the same, except for Phillips, who was observing from a concealed position to begin with. “I’ve got a helicopter, low, to the northwest. It’s going to pass by about a klick away.”

“Type?” asked Ramey.

“It’s a gunship. A Huey, of all things,” Phillips answered.

“Iranians have a ton of them,” Fazel added.

“Night vision or IR sights?”

“Not according to the specs, Boss, but anything’s possible.” Jerry could almost hear Harry shrugging his shoulders. Jerry agreed. Even if the helicopter didn’t have night sights, the gunner could just use a handheld night-scope. He would.

The aircraft did not change course or speed. It flew off to the east, staying low. Within a few minutes the sound faded, and then the machine’s navigation lights disappeared.

“I bet it was heading for the air base,” Fazel suggested.

“I have never been this popular before, and I don’t think I like it at all,” Phillips observed.

“That’s it, we’re going for a boat,” Jerry said.

“XO, are you sure about that?” Fazel asked. Concern filled his question.

“Absolutely not!” Ramey countered. “We go for the airfield.”

“What does heading inland do for us?” Phillips asked. “They know we’re trying to go south. If we go north, the net won’t be as tight.”

“But we’re farther from Michigan. No help from the CENTCOM UAVs or the Cormorant.”

“And there will still be roadblocks, tougher ones,” added Fazel.

“And it would take too long,” Jerry finished. “While I regard our personal survival as an important goal, there are larger matters at stake. I don’t know Israel’s time line, but we’ve got to get Shirin’s information out of Iran as soon as possible. What if the war starts tomorrow while we’re sitting here, or fighting another Pasdaran patrol?”

“The quickest way out of Iran is a boat,” Fazel answered. “We go to the nearest harbor and swipe the fastest boat. There’s a harbor two klicks from here. To quote T. E. Lawrence, ‘It’s just a matter of going. ‘“

Ramey smiled. “Did T. E. Lawrence mention how to deal with the Pasdaran patrol boats?” In spite of his smile, the lieutenant’s tone was serious. “That’s been a nonstarter since the first night.”

“That’s when we were trying to avoid a fight,” Jerry countered. “We are going to have a fight no matter where we go. Can patrol boats be worse than a company of mechanized infantry?”

Jerry could see the SEALs calculating, and pressed his point. “The math is changing. The threat is increasing by the hour. If we stay here, we’ll have to fight again, this time at reduced strength and against incredibly bad odds. Let’s pick our next battle, before the Iranians give us one we can’t possibly win. I don’t want us to lose anyone else,” he said, looking at Shirin.

Ramey started to object, but Jerry cut him off. “We go, and we go tonight.” That got a rise out of all the SEALS, but Jerry was firm. “I’ve worked with you now for several days, and I see the value of planning, of reducing the risks as much as possible. We’ll do what we can, but in the end, we will have to trust to luck.”

“We’re used to making our own luck,” Fazel said, “but in addition to him being the senior officer, I agree. If we don’t try to get out now, we may not be able to. From here on, the odds are only going to get worse.”

Ramey had broken out the laptop and was looking at the UAV imagery. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that harbor you’re in love with? It’s got zilch.” Ramey sounded almost happy as he showed them the overhead image. A curved breakwater jutted out from the shoreline near the village of Bandar Shenas forming a sheltered oval. Inside the enclosure, Jerry could see a total of four fishing boats. He was no expert on small craft, but none of them looked very fast.

“Check the next one down the coast. The larger one that was already part of the last backup plan,” Jerry ordered. “The one at Bandar Lengeh.”

Ramey typed in the commands. The image flickered, then spun, but in thirty seconds they were looking at the much larger harbor of Bandar Lengeh. It had a double breakwater, and the inner one was crammed with boats, including sleek-looking Pasdaran craft.

“That’s exactly what we need,” Jerry said.

“Too bad it’s about twelve kilometers away,” remarked Ramey, looking at the distance readout on the screen. “We can’t use the highway. Most of the terrain is pretty rough, and it’s probably patrolled. We wouldn’t be able to walk that far with Shirin and Pointy and still have time to snatch a boat; without being seen, that is.”