Kilo out of the Black Sea. And, if we accept he could have helped the Ayatollahs, I guess he could have helped anyone else do the same thing. It brings Iraq right back into the picture…and Libya…Syria…Egypt…Pakistan…any of ’em. Because if any one of those nations had Adnam, the only other thing they needed was money.”
“Yeah. To rent or buy a Russian boat and crew. But we still have to look at motive. And the nations with the most powerful motives are Iran, and, I guess, Iraq. The others are lightweight for something this big, and also would be much more afraid of the consequences. I don’t think we should take our eyes too far off the most obvious ball.”
“No. Guess not. And do you write the Israelis out of the list of suspects now?”
“Almost. I’ll make another couple of calls this morning. See if I can get Lessard on the line. Then we’ll have to see whether they found their lost commander. Or at least found out who he really is. Meantime I think we should brace ourselves for the fact that this President wants action. Right now. And I’m not sure what to advise. When you are as big and strong as we are, it’s damn difficult to punish someone on a large scale without starting World War III.”
At 0710, the Chief of Naval Operations walked through the door. Admiral Dunsmore beckoned both men to follow him into his office and ordered coffee, which was rapidly becoming a staple of Arnold Morgan’s diet. He then ordered the Intelligence Admiral to tell him everything.
The conversation lasted about five minutes. Admiral Dunsmore said little, absorbing every detail. Then he called General Josh Paul and said he thought they should meet with the President at the earliest possible time. He replaced the phone, and it rang within five minutes. The CNO just said, “I’m leaving now. I’ll be by your office in three.”
Admiral Morgan then called the Navy Intelligence office and left a message with an assistant to Admiral Schnider that Lieutenant Commander Baldridge would be working out of Fort Meade for the remainder of the week. Bill shrugged, and the two men headed for the garage. By the time they made it, General Paul and Admiral Dunsmore were already bound for the White House.
Seated in the back of the staff car, Scott Dunsmore ran over the situation with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, told him of the rising suspicion that Benjamin Adnam was the commander of the submarine which they now believed had destroyed the
General Paul asked one question. “Do you guys think that this Adnam could have got one of the Iranian Kilos out through the Strait of Hormuz, hit the
“No. We don’t really. But since we thought the carrier was just about impregnable, and we were wrong about that, I suppose we have to accept the possibility that the guy who successfully got into the Battle Group, might also have successfully chugged in and out of the harbor without being spotted by the overheads. ’Specially during the monsoon.”
“Yeah. Guess so. We’re still not seeing three boats in Bandar Abbas. Just the two, right?”
“Uh-huh. But the third one still might be in that big covered floating dock. We just can’t get a look in there.”
The car pulled up to the West Wing entrance. The Secret Service men were there to meet them, hand over their passes, and escort them immediately to the same conference room they had used for the breakfast meeting with the President eight days previously. When they arrived, the Defense Secretary, Robert MacPherson, and the Secretary of State, Harcourt Travis, were already seated. The National Security Adviser, Sam Haynes, arrived within moments. Five minutes later the President himself walked in accompanied by his press chief, Dick Stafford. The doors were shut firmly behind them by the Marine guards, who remained on duty immediately beyond the door.
A military quorum of five was now seated around the table; five men who, if they acted in harmony, had the power to do almost anything they wished on the international front. They were five men whose unanimous decision could unleash the terrifying power of the U.S. Navy on an enemy. The sixth man, Travis Harcourt, was there to supply wisdom on a wide international base; the seventh, Dick Stafford, to ensure, professionally, that their actions would always be perceived by the American nation as justified.
The President sat at the head of the table, flanked by Mr. MacPherson and Mr. Travis. General Paul and Admiral Dunsmore sat next to them, opposite each other, with Sam Haynes and Dick Stafford at the end of the table. The President greeted everyone by their first names, and thanked them for coming. He then requested that Admiral Dunsmore brief the meeting formally with the latest update on the list of suspects.
It took about ten minutes, since the President and his cabinet officers had not yet been appraised fully of the situation regarding the drowned Russian sailor, nor of the importance of Commander Adnam, nor of the grave consequences of the Israeli admission of his disappearance.
“Scott,” the President said at the conclusion of the CNO’s briefing, “we have a submarine, sealed up tight, going along under the water, trying to stay quiet and remain undetected. Since they are all locked up inside, how can someone fall overboard and drown?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the CNO explained. “We should have made that clear. If someone should drop a hammer on a metal deck inside the submarine, that clang could be heard for possibly fifty miles under the water. The enemy of the stealthy submarine is noise…any noise…it is regarded with immense concern by every member of the ship’s company.
“Remember, every bit of machinery in a submarine, bar the propeller, is set upon heavy rubber mounts, all designed to deaden noise and vibration…to ensure that the hundreds of rotating parts throughout the ship make no more racket collectively than the hum of your computer. At least, not beyond the hull.
“Now suppose something, a bracket, a wire, even an old oil can, gets loose somewhere up in the casing and it starts to rattle. The moment that noise is heard, something has to be done about it. Invariably, the submarine must come to the surface as soon as it is safe to do so. And fix it.
“A party must go up on deck and stop that rattle no matter what. In a big sea at night, that is really dangerous. Whenever there is a man overboard on a submarine, we assume it’s probably something like that. If they had not bothered to fix it, that rattle would have served as a beacon to anyone listening within fifty miles.
“No competent submarine commander would ever make that kind of mistake — even if it cost the life of one of his crew.”
“Cost more than that,” replied the President. “But I’m grateful to have it cleared up.”
He then asked the same question General Paul had asked. “Could Commander Adnam have piloted one of those Kilos out of Bandar Abbas, and then back in again, without being seen by the U.S. satellite reconnaissance systems?”
Scott Dunsmore gave him the same answer he had given the General. Highly unlikely, but not absolutely impossible. After all, the guy had somehow achieved the impossible anyway, by getting into the heart of the invincible CVBG.
There were no other questions at this time, because it was clear the President himself was thinking very carefully. It was almost one minute before he spoke, And when he did, a tense silence gripped the table.
“I am proposing, gentlemen,” he said, “to take those three Iranian Kilos out of our lives for good. I want them destroyed. And I want it done fast. By the time it is done, we may know we have hit the exact culprit. If not, we may still have hit the right nation, because the chances are they merely used another submarine we do not know about. Let’s start by getting rid of those Kilos. I expect you all remember, my predecessor tried to stop them being delivered in the first place. But the Russians somewhat outwitted everyone.
“Those submarines have been a pain in the ass ever since. They have caused us to start moving squadrons of fighter aircraft into Bahrain for the second time in five years. And now we know they may have attacked a U.S. warship. I’m sick to death of this crap.
“Those three Kilos are a continuing threat, an endless problem to everyone. Get rid of ’em. All three of them — if all three of them are there. If not, hit two, and we’ll get the third one when the sonofabitch returns home.”
Robert MacPherson spoke first. “Mr. President, I want to clarify just one thing. Are you proposing we just fire up a fleet of fighter-bombers and go in and destroy the entire Naval base, straight in the front door and take the place off the map? Not that it would be any problem.”
