Since early 1996, both Chinese and Iranian crews had been training aboard the Varilag in carrier deck and flight operations in the Persian Gulf. At the same time, Chinese and Iranian crews had begun firing anti-ship missiles from the carrier, including the huge SSN-19 Granit supersonic missile, which was designed to sink a carrier-class ship over 200 miles away. In effect, both countries shared the cost of a completely combat-ready aircraft carrier.
“This aircraft carrier, it is ready to fight?” Khamenei asked.
“It is, Eminence,” Buzhazi replied. “Twenty fighter aircraft, six helicopters, twelve long-range anti-ship missiles—it is one of the most formidable warships in the world. With our new Russian, Chinese, and Western surplus warships as escorts, the Khomeini can ensure that we will not lose our rights to the Persian Gulf.”
“It will cause much fear among those who travel the Gulf,” he pointed out.
“If it is Allah’s will,” Buzhazi responded. Normally he didn’t care to use the real religious fundamentalist expressions with others, but of course it was necessary and proper to do so with the mullahs. “We fear only Allah, Holiness. Let others fear the Islamic Republic for a change. Your Holiness, we have a right to defend what is ours, and the Khomeini is the best weapon with which to do so. It has been in shakedown status far too long—we are ready to put to sea. Give the command, and we shall need worry no longer about protecting our Gulf from attack.”
Buzhazi paused for a moment, then added, “Oil prices will of course be affected by this, Eminence.” That got Khamenei’s attention. His political fortunes were tied directly into the price of oil, and for the past several years both had been in a steady decline. “Even if we are not ultimately successful in closing off the Gulf from all foreign warships—if the Majlis and President Nateq-Nouri conspire against your wishes and the loyal people of the Islamic Republic—we will still benefit from the rise in oil prices. Iran can of course continue to ship oil to its Gulf of Oman terminus at Chah Bahar, but oil shipments from Gulf Cooperative Council states will be greatly curtailed.”
Khamenei paused once again, but he had decided. The insurance companies would double, perhaps triple the premiums on supertankers transiting the Gulf, and the shortage of oil would shoot prices to heaven. The rewards would be great. But the risks … The Faqih nodded. “It shall be ordered,” he said.
“But we must be in the right always, General. World public opinion may favor Iran because we have been attacked by the oil-hungry West and their Gulf lap-dogs, but we must not allow the world to ostracize us once again. We are for peace, Buzhazi, always peace.”
“Imotashakkeram,” Buzhazi said, bowing as he gave thanks. “Your Holiness, I believe so strongly in this, that if you give the command, I shall take full and complete responsibility for the consequences. You may say that I was the mad dog, that I gave the order, and you may disavow all knowledge of my actions, I know in my heart that it is right, and I stand with Allah because I know he will stand with me.”
“Will you stand with the thousands of our brothers who will be slaughtered by the forces of Satan when the world declares war on Iran for what it has done?”
“Eminence, war appears to be upon us already,” Buzhazi pointed out. “I believe we will avert further conflict by executing my plan. The world will fear Iran once again. It will be hesitant to start a conflict that might escalate into real death and destruction at our hands. Give the command, Holiness. I stand ready to defend Islam and protect the Republic. I have the strength to do it.”
Khamenei hesitated, then turned his back on Buzhazi—so the general could not see the look of concern on his face. But he said, “Inshallah, General. So by the will of Allah, let it be done.”
“ABC WORLD NEWS TONIGHT WITH PETER JENNINGS”
“Iran’s Leader of the Islamic Revolution, Ayatollah Ali Hoseini Khamenei, blasted the Gulf Cooperative Council, the union of six pro-West Persian Gulf nations, today for what he claims was an attack on a, quote, ‘defensive security and safety installation,’ unquote, on a small island in the Persian Gulf in the early-morning hours, and has called on a ‘holy jihad’ against the GCC.
“Khamenei claims the attack by what he terms ‘terrorists and saboteurs’ of the Gulf Cooperative Council’s action group called Peninsula Shield killed several dozen workers while they slept, and heavily damaged the island’s electricity, fresh water, and living quarters.
“The island, identified as Abu Musa, is one of three small islands that sit very close to the oil transshipment lanes through the Persian Gulf. The islands were claimed by Iran in 1971 but were under joint jurisdiction of both Iran and the United Arab Emirates, one of the member nations of the Gulf Cooperative Council, until 1992, when Iran claimed all of the islands for itself.
“Spokesmen for the Gulf Cooperative Council in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, declined to comment, except to say that the GCC has often been blamed for actions by anti-Iranian government forces, notably the Mojahadin-i-Khalq, in an effort to stir up resentment and fundamentalist fervor against Iran’s Arab neighbors in the Persian Gulf region.
“A U.S. State Department spokesman says he knows no details of the incident, but says that Iran has heavily fortified Abu Musa Island over the past few years with modern offensive anti-ship and antiaircraft weapons, and has resisted all efforts by the United Nations International Court to mediate the dispute. The State Department says no oil tankers or any American vessels or aircraft are in danger and says the Martindale administration is looking into the matter.
“Back in a moment.”
IN THE GULF OF OMAN 124 MILES NORTHWEST OF MUSCAT, OMAN, SOUTHEAST ARABIAN PENINSULA 15 APRIL 1997, 0109’HOURS LOCAL (14 APRIL, 1639 ET)
The U.S.-flagged rescue-and-salvage vessel Valley Mistress was riding high and fast in the water these days; very few patrol boats had bothered to stop her as she made her way from the Mediterranean through the Suez Canal, down the Red Sea, and across the Gulf of Aden, Arabian Sea, and the Gulf of Oman.
Salvage-and-construction vessels were usually hard to search, they rarely had anything fun for customs officials to look at—just a bunch of cranes, tanks, chains, dirt, and nitrogen- and booze-soaked roustabout crews— and U.S.-registered and flagged vessels rarely carried exciting contraband like drugs, weapons, or humans. In any case, with its U.S. Naval Ready Reserve Fleet designation, the Valley Mistress was rarely detained—it carried almost the same right-to-pass exemption as a warship.
The Mistress was riding high right now because its 55,000-pound CV-22 Pave Hammer tilt-rotor aircraft, normally secretly stowed on the telescoping helicopter hangar on the aft deck, was off on a mission with several of its commands teams, including Chris Wohl and Hal Briggs; its current cargo was much, much lighter. The Valley Mistress was indeed a real salvage vessel, and it did many contract jobs as such all over the world—but it was also a sophisticated spy ship that conducted surveillance and special operations missions for the U.S. government. All sorts of classified missions had been conducted from the Mistress’s decks, from shadowing a port, harbor, or vessel to reconnoitering a battlefield, rescue work, and all-out air and land combat. Any job that needed doing, anytime, anyplace, the crew of the Valley Mistress could do it.
Retired Air Force colonel Paul White stood on the aft deck of the Valley Mistress, arms crossed on his chest, watching the dark shapes working all around him. In addition to leading Madcap Magician, White was the senior officer in charge of the thirty-man “technical” crew of the Valley Mistress, which on this leg of their voyage—White’s technical crews changed often, depending on the current mission requirements—consisted of engineers, technicians, and sixteen U.S. Marines, none in uniform.
All of the concentrated planning and rehearsing had already taken place, so, like Alfred Hitchcock, who had already meticulously plotted out each one of his shots before setting foot on a new movie set, White’s job at this point was simply to observe his team in action, silently monitor their progress via the ship’s intercom through his headset, and stay out of their way. Paul White was a thirty-two-year veteran, but had never been in combat except for brief stints as a communications repairman in Vietnam.
His specialty was electronics; he was a “gadget guy,” designing and building sophisticated systems from spare parts—the parts could be leftover transistors, old radios, or old aircraft. White could take the oldest, most broken-down thing and make it better—and, more important, he could teach others to do it, too.
White’s intercom crackled to life: “Lightfoot, Plot.”
Without alerting his stance or changing his scan of deck activities, White keyed the talk switch on his headset cord: “Lightfoot, go.”
“T-minus-ten radar sweep, no air activity, no surface activity within five miles,” the radar operator aboard the Mistress reported.
“Copy,” White responded. “Report every two minutes, report any surface activity within ten miles, Lightfoot
