Jerry spun, ignoring Ramey’s command. “Pointy!” he shouted. He heard a bullet whiz by his head.
“Keep your shirt on, I’m coming,” Lapointe yelled back. He was sliding down a rock, when his wounded leg got caught in a crevice.
“Boss, there’s reinforcements coming!” Phillips exclaimed, pointing toward the rapidly undulating flashlights on the beach.
“XO! Move your ass, now!” shouted Ramey, still shooting.
Jerry staggered over to Lapointe, yanked him to his feet, and dragged him to the boat. Fazel reached out, grabbed his teammate, and unceremoniously dumped him on the deck while Jerry jumped into the boat.
“Punch it, Philly!” Ramey ordered.
Phillips wasted no time in slamming the throttle all the way forward and the small boat leapt away from the rocks.
As the coast began to fall away, they heard explosions over the din of the engine. Ramey looked over toward Bandar Lengeh and saw a huge fireball climbing into the dark night sky.
“Way to go, Boss!” shouted Phillips.
Ramey didn’t smile. He had bought them time, but would it be enough? “Keep the pedal to the metal, Philly! We aren’t out of the woods yet.”
21
INTERCEPT
It was nearly dark. Moradi finished the latest report from Rahim with disappointment. The major was almost legendary within VEVAK, both feared and admired. Was that reputation misplaced, or was his failure to capture the traitors an indicator of their own strength? If they had indeed wiped out a heavily armed Pasdaran detachment lying in ambush, then they might indeed escape, or at least take more lives and further delay their capture.
This was not good, and in normal circumstances would be a crisis of national importance, but Moradi and Rahim had worked to limit the spread of information, so far successfully. It had been difficult, and they couldn’t keep it up forever, but after tonight it wouldn’t matter.
The latest intelligence reports were more than encouraging. Last light would be at 1845, but the planes wouldn’t come until later, in the early hours of the morning, or even just before dawn. But all indications were, it would be sometime tonight.
They’d run drills for the last three days, with the workers hustling into shelters while Pasdaran crews hurried to their stations. Over a thousand men were dedicated to defending the facility.
He expected the casualties to be light to moderate. The Israelis didn’t fly all this way to bomb guns and SAM launchers. A few planes would use antiradar missiles on the SAM guidance radars, but the gun crews would be relatively safe. Likewise, workers in the shelters and at home would not suffer too greatly. The greatest losses would be in the underground centrifuge halls.
Unfortunately, there was no way to quickly shut down the centrifuges in an emergency. Nonessential staff would be evacuated during an air raid, but the machines had to be tended. Spinning at tens of thousands of revolutions per minute on magnetic bearings, it took hours to slow and stop them, and that was only after the cascades had been flushed with nitrogen gas.
The workers had emergency suits that they could put on when an alert sounded, but uranium hexafluoride gas was both toxic and corrosive. It would take a big bomb to penetrate the layers of earth and reinforced concrete that protected the halls, but that same protection would then contain the blast. A powerful explosion would send the delicately balanced centrifuges caroming off each other, spraying the lethal gas everywhere. He was sure the Israelis would use more than one bomb. In fact, he was expecting the halls to be so ruined that the only sensible course would be to cover them with even more earth and leave them as poisonous, radioactive tombs.
Moradi had decided to stay in his office in the main administration building until the alert sounded. After that, he would hurry to the command bunker with the others. It was possible that the Israelis would attack without the air defense system even detecting their approach. While their planes were not stealthy, he’d received briefings on the electronic techniques they had used elsewhere, and if the planes flew low enough, they could simply fly under the radar beams. Iran lacked the airborne radar aircraft that could track low flyers.
There was a risk that he could be a casualty himself, even with adequate warning, if the Israelis chose to hit the bunker. It was a logical target, and he could certainly find an excuse to be elsewhere, even away from the base entirely. But this was his plan, and he would risk his life along with the rest. He had brought this on himself; he would let Allah decide his fate. Whether he lived or died, his plan would succeed when the bombs fell.
Saudi Ambassador Mutaib bin Khalid was wearing traditional Arab dress — the long white
The request for a meeting had described the matter as “urgent and important,” and Myles had treated it as such. In addition to Secretary of State Andy Lloyd, who would be present for any such visit, James Springfield, the Secretary of Defense, was also waiting to hear the ambassador’s message. Aside from them, the only other person in the room was Chief of Staff Alvarez.
After Khalid greeted the four, Myles sat and invited the ambassador to join him. The center of the Oval Office was furnished with two long couches facing each other across a coffee table, where a tray with tea and coffee had been placed. Myles had taken a seat on one of the couches, leaving more than enough room for the ambassador. There was also an overstuffed wing chair at each end of the couch; the ambassador took one of these, facing the president.
After the others had taken their seats, Alvarez served coffee and tea while the president and ambassador exchanged courtesies and shared their concerns about the crisis. Myles thought he was offering a noncommittal pleasantry when he said, “I’m sure our two countries, working together, can be a powerful influence to preserve peace in the region.”
Khalid quickly put down his coffee cup and said, with some intensity, “If that peace ignores a great danger, then peace is of no value, and may do harm.”
Myles and the others were surprised, but when the president started to answer, Khalid spoke first.
“My apologies, Mr. President, but I’ve been watching a lot of American news broadcasts lately. Rarely has a disagreement between two countries’ intelligence arms become so public. Actual news has been supplemented with many so-called experts and analysts explaining different aspects of the crisis. How much damage can Iran do with a nuclear weapon? How will they deploy it? What is Israel so worried about?”
He smiled. “I don’t have to tell you why Israel is so hypersensitive. While we may not agree with the Jewish nation on many things, we understand their situation. A few nuclear weapons, delivered by ballistic missiles or terrorists, could destroy it. Such an attack would be a great victory for Iran, not only removing its greatest enemy, but giving the country a claim of being the most powerful nation in the Islamic world.”
He paused for a moment, and when it was clear he was waiting for some response, Myles replied, “That is a nightmare we all wish to avoid, Mr. Ambassador.”
Khalid nodded. “Yes. That would be bad enough, both for American interests and, I must admit, for the entire region. Have you thought about what would come after that? What will Iran do if its greatest enemy is destroyed? How would Iran use its new power? The Shiite leadership of Iran has made no secret of their hatred for the House of Saud. While our numbers are three times Israel’s, a few weapons could also do our country great damage. In fact, we are not sure that Iran might not choose us as its first victim, aiming for Riyadh or Jeddah, or the greatest
