“The plan involves considerable risk to Air Vehicle Eleven, the B-2A bomber Jamieson and McLanahan are flying,” Freeman said.
“It’ll be sent in against the Iranian air defenses all by itself, armed with non-lethal weapons. It involves much more risk—not just to the crews, but to you politically as well. If it fails at a critical time, you’ll be totally exposed— there’ll be no doubt about what you attempted to do. If it succeeds, we’ll be able to meet your original criteria: the mission will be totally deniable, it’ll involve no or minimal loss of life, and it won’t look like an invasion force is out to destroy Iran.”
“Then let’s do it,” the President said. “Brief me on the plan, and let’s get started.”
“You should think about this for a time, Mr. President,” Freeman said. “The plan involves great personal political risk.”
“Philip, this job is nothing but a long list of great personal political risks,” President Martindale said. “But I told you, I want that carrier stopped. If you got a way to do it without starting a general war in the Middle East-“
“Or Asia, sir?” Freeman interjected.
The President hesitated—Freeman and the other advisers could see the President avert his eyes, thinking hard, perhaps reconsidering …
“Or Asia,” the President said. “Let’s hear it.” And with that, Philip Freeman began outlining his plan to the President and his advisers.
TEHRAN, IRAN THAT SAME TIME Smiling, General Buzhazi hung up the dead phone. “Your threats will do you no good, President Martindale,” he said. To Air Force General Sattari, Buzhazi’s acting chief of staff, he asked, “Is the mission ready to proceed, General?”
“Yes, sir,” Sattari responded. “Backfire bombers from Esfahan and attack planes from Bandar Abbas will attack the United Arab Emirates’ bases at Taweela, Mina Saqr, and Mina Sultan, and the Omani naval base on the Musandam Peninsula; six fighter-bombers from the Khomeini will attack Sib Air and Naval Base near Muscat in Oman. Six fighters from the Khomeini will provide primary air cover to the east, backed up by fighters from Chah Bahar; Bandar Abbas and Abu Musa will provide air- and ground-based air defense cover for the western attackers. The attack will be perfectly coordinated so that all attacks are simultaneous and that air defense fighters will launch and cover the strikers’ retreat, without alerting anyone that an attack is imminent.”
“And what about the Americans?” Buzhazi asked. “The Americans patrol the Arabian Peninsula almost all the way to the Gulf of Oman.”
“We outnumber all Western and GCC aircraft by a factor of three to one,” Sattari responded. “As you ordered, we shall launch six fighters for every one of theirs. The American and Saudi F-15s are respectable, but they are not a match for a locust swarm of MiG-29s and their own F-14 Tomcats.”
“Very good,” Buzhazi said. “And the preparations for an attack by their stealth bombers?”
“Radar sites from Shiraz to Char Babar are now all synchronized.
We cover the entire Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman region with radar capable of detecting the B-2A stealth bomber,” Sattari replied proudly. “The network is controlled by the master combat information center aboard the Khomeini, but any radar facility can become the master combat center if the others should go off the line. The long-range air defense radars around Tehran have also been synchronized, and soon all of Iran’s long-range radar systems will be synchronized to be able to detect stealth aircraft.”
“And what of our preparations for the follow-on attacks?”
“We are ready, sir,” Sattari reported. “We have two fighter bomber and one additional fighter-interceptor teams ready to fly in follow-up sorties should the first round of attacks prove successful. The slowest element in the follow-on sorties will be the carrier-based aircraft, so we have split their force into two bomber and two fighter elements, to provide continuous air defense patrols while the bombers land and depart. The other elements from Chah Bahar and Bandar Abbas will be ready to attack the follow-on targets in Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, and Qatar immediately.
In addition, other forces from Tabriz and Mahabad will be standing by to strike targets in Turkey if you so order.”
“Excellent, General, excellent,” Buzhazi said. “The attack will commence tonight. May Allah be with our pilots!”
ANDERSEN AIR FORCE BASE, GUAM 28 APRIL 1997, 1551 HOURS LOCAL Patrick McLanahan was on the third-floor catwalk of the hangar in which his B-2A Spirit stealth bomber was going through its final maintenance checks. He wore a black flight suit with no patches or insignia—it looked like mechanic’s overalls—with Chinese- made flight boots, thick and woolly.
“The thousand-yard stare again,” Wendy McLanahan said as she approached him. She linked her arm in his and rested her head on his right shoulder. “They did a pretty good job on it in such a short time,” she said, looking at the left engine nacelles.
“Can’t even tell you were hit by an Iranian missile and almost blown into a thousand pieces.”
“Wendy..
“This is really a crazy idea,” Wendy said irritably, “and I can’t believe you thought of it, and I can’t believe Freeman accepted it.
“It’s the only way we can do it, Wendy,” Patrick said absently, still staring at nothing, as if trying to look into the future and see if this was going to work. “If there was another way, I’m open to suggestions…”
“I’ve got one—let it be. Let the Iranian carrier be,” Wendy said angrily. “No one has declared war here, Patrick. Paul White and the survivors of the Valley Mistress are safe, Hal got back at the Iranians for what they did —aren’t we even now?”
“We were—until Buzhazi had President Nateq-Nouri killed,” Patrick said. “It’s obvious that he doesn’t want peace. He wants to take that carrier battle group and wreak havoc in the entire region, all for the sake of glory and power for himself.”
“Why risk your life for a man you didn’t know—for an Iranian,” Wendy asked incredulously. “He was just another fundamentalist Muslim looking to infect the rest of the world with his brand of Islam by whatever means he could..
“Nateq-Nouri was a man who wanted peace,” Patrick said. “He wasn’t a Muslim fundamentalist—he was a realist. He may not have liked the United States, but he was wise enough to think of innovative ways to avoid a conflict. Buzhazi’s not a fundamentalist, either—he’s a homicidal psychopath. He’s out there taking shots at our aircraft carriers with Backfire bombers and supersonic cruise missiles just for fun. What if he gets lucky and lands a one-ton warhead on the decks of the Abraham Lincoln, or decides to put a torpedo into one of our ships? How many Americans does he have to kill before we should go after him?” Wendy had no answer for him.
They stood together for a few minutes longer, until Patrick looked at his watch and sighed. “I’ve got to go,” he said.
“I know,” Wendy responded. He hugged Wendy closely, and she started to cry. “You know … you know we talked about trying to have another child,” Wendy said in a tiny voice through her tears.
“We should stop trying …
“What?” Patrick asked. “Why, Wendy? We both want one so much.
Why …?” He read the sorrow in her eyes, then shook his head in exasperation. “Is it because I’m with Future Flight? Dammit, Wendy, I was afraid this would happen. I never should have accepted this Future flight assignment. I was happy working the pub in Old Sacrament’, “No you weren’t,” Wendy interjected. “You wanted to come back, wanted to start flying again. When Freeman came along, it was a dream come true for you. You made a decision.”
“But I love you, Wendy. I want us to be happy. I know how much you want a child, how upset you were when you lost the first one.
If it means that much to you, Wendy, I’ll quit.
“You will? Right now? Three hours before takeoff?”
“Yes,” Patrick said resolutely. “You mean more to me than this mission or Future Flight or even the damned country!
Wendy was so surprised that she had to remember to close her mouth. “I … I can’t believe this …
you’d do that for me? For us?”
“Yes.”
