Primary Target (1999) (14 page)

"Wait--slow down a minute," Macklin said in a low-key voice as he raised a hand. "I'm not going anywhere, Hartwell. If I run for cover every time some nut threatens me, the terrorist groups would be falling over each other to get here."

The president shook his head. "No," he said emphatically, "I'm not going anywhere. Take whatever measures you feel are necessary to increase our security, but we're not going to abandon the White House."

Prost paused to steel himself. "Sir, with all due respect, one of the most feared men in the world is flying around this country in an A-4 Skyhawk. With that in mind, Bassam Shakhar has publicly declared that you're his primary target." A long silence followed.

"Mr. President," Prost said impatiently, "I have no doubt that Farkas has orders to assassinate you."

"Goddammit, Hartwell, I'm not going into hiding." They locked eyes. "That's final--end of discussion."

"Yes, sir," he said politely, refusing to be intimidated. "New subject?"

"New subject," the president said without any visible emotion.

Prost swept Macklin with cold eyes. "Iran's nuclear weapons are a real and immediate threat. I think we need to neutralize them first, then deal with the terrorist issue."

Inclined to be dubious, the president stared over the top of his spectacles and spoke to his national security adviser. "Hartwell, we know Iran has the capability to smuggle biological, chemical, or nuclear weapons into our country. Hell, the terrorists could as easily turn Fords and Buicks into low-budget stealth bombers. If we take it on ourselves to single-
h
andedly deal a major blow to Iran, it could create so much regional instability that everyone would turn against us--including our spineless allies."

"Do you think the Iranian-controlled nuclear weapons are creating stability in the Middle East?"

Macklin's eyes flashed with anger.

With his rebellion announced, Prost continued. "Tehran and their terrorist groups are a strategic threat to Israel, to everyone in the Arab world, and now to the West. We have to neutralize their nuclear capability, before our worst fears become a reality."

"We don't have to do a damn thing," the president retorted, trying to conceal his growing irritation.

"Look at Qaddafi," Prost demanded. "We know he still keeps his hand in the terrorist game, but since Reagan thumped him on the head, we haven't heard much out of him."

"Qaddafi retaliated against us," the president suddenly blurted. "Remember Pan Am 103? If we 'thump' Iran, we could trigger a whole series of Pan Am 103s, or worse. Think about TWA 800," Macklin said curtly. "Although we can't disclose the truth to the public, we know the attack was retaliation for shooting down Iran Air Flight 655. Hell, hundreds of eyewitnesses, including professional pilots, saw a missile strike TWA 800. We may not be able to cover up the next act of retribution."

Prost ignored the remarks. "Sir, the people of this country, and the free world, are looking to the United States for leadership. It's time to show our resolve--time to set a precedent. Obviously, we need to confer with our allies, but it's up to us to take swift and decisive action against Iran."

Prost waited while the president's political handicapping process computed the various odds of increasing or decreasing his popularity rating.

General Chalmers covered his mouth and quietly coughed. "Les," the president said with open irritation, "I recognize that cough. Tell me what you think."

"Well," Chalmers began slowly, "I've been informed by luminous minds that war planning is much too serious a thing to be left to military men, especially generals. With that i
n
mind, it's my opinion that peace is much too important to be left to diplomats."

"Excellent point," Prost declared.

Chalmers continued as if Prost had said nothing. "Together, we must solve our predicament--if we want to avoid a nuclear holocaust in the Middle East. Once someone tosses a nuke or two across the pond, we won't be able to quarantine the hysteria. There'll be a global anxiety attack that'll create political and military chaos beyond anyone's comprehension."

The air crackled with tension while the president rubbed the bridge of his nose, then made eye contact with Chalmers. "You're telling me that I don't have any other choice--is that it?"

"Sir, I wish I could provide a half-dozen options, but we're dealing with Iran." Chalmers spoke with a hint of frustration. "This is more sensitive and potentially more catastrophic than dealing with Saddam Hussein. We have to intervene to maintain stability in the Gulf region, and to ensure that Iran doesn't close the Strait of Hormuz."

Macklin quirked an eyebrow. "Les, we're a nation built on democracy. We can't go around inter--"

"This doesn't have anything to do with democracy," Chalmers interrupted. "It has to do with oil--with the economic well-being of the industrialized world. And," he said more softly, "it has to do with power. If we ignore this blatant threat, the credibility of the U
. S
. forces in the region will go straight to hell."

"And my credibility with it . .." The president trailed off. "That's right." Chalmers looked him straight in the eye. "You're the commander in chief, the most powerful man on this earth. You have to look at the big picture--what's best for the entire planet."

Macklin showed no emotion. "What about radiation contamination?"

"Negligible to nonexistent," Chalmers said firmly. "The nukes aren't armed to detonate until they're airborne." Finally, the president swiveled to face his advisers. Their obvious unity was infectious and had the clear markings of an emerging policy change.

Macklin took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "I'l
l
stand by your recommendation," he said in a quiet voice, "but we better be prepared for the consequences." Chalmers gave the president a forced smile. "You made the right decision, sir."

Macklin shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "Like you pointed out, I don't have a choice. Now, what's your next step?"

"I plan to reposition two more mine countermeasures ships to the Gulf, just in case the Iranians attempt to blockade the Strait of Hormuz. I'm also going to assign another five ships to Destroyer Squadron 50 and station an additional attack submarine in the Gulf and one in the Gulf of Oman."

The president nodded in silent approval.

"We'll make the operation appear to be routine, then go on alert just before our submarines initiate their attack on the missile sites. The skippers have their orders, and they're en route to the Gulf of Oman."

Macklin gave him a questioning look. "Do you think it's wise to commit to this plan with just one battle group in the Gulf?"

"Yes, sir. Roosevelt and her battle group are en route to the northern Arabian Sea if we need additional firepower. We'll be able to counter any retaliation from Iran--against our forces stationed in the area, or our allies."

"With just two battle groups?" the president asked with a look of skepticism in his eyes.

"We'll have more than two carrier air wings and their escorts. I intend to use F-15s and 16s from Turkey and Saudi Arabia to assist in providing air cover for the carrier groups." The president worked hard to keep his concerns from showing. "Realistically, what kind of resistance can we expect?"

Chalmers paused when he noticed the anxiety written on Macklin's face. -They'll probably scramble fighters and their guided-missile patrol boats. Another thing that could be a problem is the threat of their cruise missiles, SAMs, and surface-to-surface missiles. It's a concern, but we expect to successfully counter any type of retaliation."

"How can you be so sure?" the president queried with undisguised apprehension. "We're already in an undeclared war with Tehran."

"Sir, they're going to be caught off guard in the early hours of the morning. We have battle groups operating in the Gulf on a regular basis, plus we have scores of other ships patrolling the Gulf, so our presence isn't going to appear to be anything other than business as usual."

"Are the other chiefs in total agreement with you?" Macklin inquired.

"To a person, and our intel people at Rand are onboard." "Think-tankers," the president mused without any warmth. "Hartwell, what's your assessment? Will the Iranians put up any resistance?"

The line of Prost's mouth became grimly straight. "They have the capability to inflict a lot of damage," he answered coldly. "Will they? None of us can answer that question." Chalmers smiled to himself and looked at Macklin. "As usual, Mr. Prost makes a good point. That's why we're not going to take an invasion-size force into the Gulf. We're going to make it look like a routine training exercise--business as usual."

"Okay, you're the expert," the president said in a resigned voice. "However, I want the rules of engagement to be simple," he asserted. "If the Iranians show hostile intent, our folks are free to defend themselves."

Chalmers suppressed a grin. "I'll make that very clear." "One other thing, Les."

"Sir?"

"After the contrast between the Gulf War and the Balkans fiasco, the American public expect a quick, decisive operation with few civilian casualties." Cord Macklin rose from his chair. "Although we have overwhelming firepower and technical supremacy, we're not invincible. Let's keep that in mind--no mistakes."

Chalmers straightened, surprised that anyone would question his professional competence. "Sir, with all due respect, we haven't forgotten the lesson of Vietnam."

"We can't afford to," Macklin declared.

"Yes, sir," Chalmers said firmly as he rose from his chair. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Sure."

The president waited until the general left the Situation Room. "Pete, do you think we should consult with the congressional leadership before we take any action?"

"I wouldn't advise it, sir. If this leaked to the media before the strike, it could have disastrous results."

"You're right," Macklin replied, then rubbed his chin. "You can't keep anything secret in this town."

"My recommendation," Adair continued, "would be to notify the speaker and majority leader while our weapons are en route to their targets. The same with our allies." "Hartwell?" the president asked.

"I concur."

Macklin leaned back and studied the ceiling before closing his eyes. "Why do I have an uneasy feeling?"

The question went unanswered.

Outwardly, the president showed a steely calm, the years of military discipline and fighter-pilot bravado coming to play. Inwardly, he didn't feel comfortable with his decision. Macklin opened his eyes and stared straight ahead. "Well, if we're going to champion freedom and democracy, we sure as hell can't cower in fear."

Suddenly General Chalmers reappeared at the door. "Mr. President, my aide just informed me that there's been a major crash at DFW."

The stunning news caused a moment of hesitation among the solemn-faced men. Everyone looked to Macklin.

"Turn on the television," the president ordered as Adair reached for the remote-control unit.

"He said the plane was bound for National," Chalmers continued, "and apparently crushed shortly after takeoff." Transfixed, the men stared at CNN's live coverage of the accident scene west of Interstate 35 East. Although it was early evening in Dallas, the sky was so dark and hazy that motorists had been forced to turn on their headlights. In spite of the rain, wind, and reduced visibility, it was obvious that no one could have survived the crash. The entire airplane had simply disappeared in a muddy, smoking hole.

Moments later the president's personal phone rang. Adair walked to the phone and answered the call, then listened in shocked disbelief while Fraiser Wyman told him the sad news about Senator Travis Morgan and the Washington contingent of terrorist experts.

As the president's chief of staff continued to explain th
e
tragic situation, Adair took an involuntary half step backward and went numb, thinking that Wyman must have made a mistake.

A moment later raw logic sobered Adair. He glanced at his wristwatch, then stared at it in silence; the Iranian deadline for the commencement of U
. S
. troop withdrawals had long passed.

With the United States on the brink of open conflict with Iran, the tragic death of Senator Morgan and the other terrorist experts wasn't a coincidence. The reprisals had begun. Adair's mind raced to make sense of the situation. Someone--maybe Khaliq Farkas--murdered them.