Swerving in and out of oncoming traffic, David knew it was only a matter of time before someone called the police. He had to lose this Mercedes, ditch the Peugeot, and get Khan someplace safe and quiet to find out what he knew and get it back to Langley before they were both dead. He glanced in his rearview mirror. The Mercedes was weaving in and out of traffic as well, but not as quickly. David could see he was actually gaining some ground, but it wasn’t enough.
He glanced into the backseat. Blood was everywhere. Khan was writhing and screaming in pain. In the rush of adrenaline, David hadn’t even heard the man for the last few minutes; he’d been focused on not crashing the car or being overtaken by the Mercedes. But now he realized he had even less time than he thought. If Khan didn’t get a tourniquet on that leg soon and some medicine, he was either going to black out or bleed out. Either would render all of this worthless. His mind was racing, but he was coming up with nothing.
“You still there?” he yelled as he passed a tractor trailer at a speed now topping 120 kilometers an hour and heading fast toward 140.
“I’m here,” Eva said.
“You sure this guy’s phone is jammed?”
“Absolutely—ever since he stepped out of the hotel.”
“He hasn’t made a single call.”
“No, he hasn’t.”
“Because if this guy calls for backup, that’s it. You know that, don’t you?”
There was a momentary pause; then Eva replied, “David, the whole hotel is calling the police now.”
Now that they were out of the congested traffic of Khorramabad and onto Route 37 heading east through towns David had never heard of before, he knew he was in trouble. The Mercedes W211 behind him was a newer, sleeker, and vastly more powerful car than his Peugeot 407 rental. It had a five-liter V8 engine, compared with the Peugeot’s three-liter V6. It was no surprise the Mercedes was now gaining on him.
It wasn’t a complete straight shot back to the fork with Route 62. There were some curves in the roads and a few hills. There were moments when David could see the Mercedes, but they were fewer and farther between now. Unfortunately there were no useful exits and few decent side roads for another forty kilometers.
“David, come on, man—lose this guy,” Eva urged.
“I can’t,” David said. “He’s too fast.”
“Do something,” Eva pressed.
“I’m doing everything I know.”
“He’s almost on you.”
David could hear genuine fear in her voice—whether it was for him or the mission, he didn’t know; probably both—but either way, it unnerved him. Eva was usually the steadiest on their team, cool under pressure, logical and methodical. If she was this scared, he was in even more trouble than he thought.
“Then take him out,” David shouted at last.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Did you hear me?” David repeated. “Take him out.”
“What do you mean?” Eva asked, sounding back in control of her emotions.
“You’ve got a Predator. It’s got missiles. Take this guy out now before Khan and I die.”
“David, I can’t.”
“Of course you can.”
“No, you don’t understand; I can’t,” she said again. “I wasn’t authorized to retask this Predator in the first place, much less order it to fire inside Iran. Murray will have my head.”
“Are you kidding me?” David yelled. “I’ve got the number two nuclear scientist in the country in my backseat, and the entire Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps is about to come down on me. Now take this guy out—NOW!”
David went whipping through a few light turns. As he rounded the last one, he could see a clear, open stretch of road ahead of him for at least five or six kilometers. No turns. No hills. Not much traffic. It was a kill zone for either the Mercedes or him.
He pressed the pedal to the floor and gripped the steering wheel for dear life. The car was now pushing 140 kilometers an hour. Then 150. Then 160. Then 165. He knew the car’s top speed was 117 miles—about 190 kilometers—per hour. He’d never imagined pushing such a car to its limit, but what choice did he have? The Mercedes could top 200 miles—or about 320 kilometers—an hour.
David glanced again in his mirror. The Mercedes was about a quarter mile behind and closing fast. All kinds of options flashed through his mind. He could slam on the brakes and hope the guy raced right by. But that was more likely to flip the car, he figured, and kill them all.
He could slow down more gradually and try to engage his pursuer in a gun battle. How much additional ammo could the guy possibly have on him—one mag, two, three at most? Yaghoubi had only been carrying one extra. That was most likely. David now had the one in the pistol (Yaghoubi’s spare) and the three he’d picked up in the hotel room. Still, slowing down and getting out of the Peugeot also meant the guy could stall for time until backup arrived. There was no question it was coming. It was just a matter of how soon.
Then again, what if he slowed down, spun the car around, and played chicken? Of course, then he’d be driving right back into Khorramabad, about the last place in the world he wanted to be just then.
He glanced back again. The Mercedes was now only a few hundred meters behind. A few moments later he was only one hundred meters back, and David still had no better plan than the Predator, though he certainly didn’t want to be anywhere near the Mercedes if and when fire came raining down from the sky.
“Where are you?” he yelled.
But no one answered.
* * *
What David didn’t know was that death was already on its way.
At an altitude of 17,429 feet, the CIA’s $4.5-million, state-of-the-art unmanned aerial vehicle known as the MQ-1 Predator had already received its encoded orders. They had come from the Third Special Operations Squadron at Cannon Air Force Base in Clovis, New Mexico, after originating from the Global Operations Center at CIA headquarters in Langley.
Now, a five-and-a-half-foot, one-hundred-pound AGM-114 Hellfire air-to-ground missile was sizzling through the crisp morning air at Mach 1.3. The entire journey took barely eighteen seconds.
Suddenly the Mercedes behind David erupted in an enormous ball of fire. It scared Tariq Khan half to death, but David thanked God for answering his prayer.
50
Tel Aviv, Israel
The PM’s motorcade arrived at the Defense Ministry.
Flanked by an enhanced security detail, Asher Naphtali and Levi Shimon made their way to the strategic planning center, five levels down. Even more than the White House Situation Room, the IDF’s “war room” was a high-tech wonder, looking more like a television network control room than a corporate boardroom. Some two dozen midsize video monitors and electronic maps lined the side walls, while large flat-screen plasma monitors were mounted at either end of the room. A control panel at the head of the table allowed whoever was running the meeting to transfer images from any of the individual monitors to the larger screens and to manage secure videoconferences with live feeds from every Israeli military base in the country and any Israeli diplomatic facility around the world.
Upon entering the room, they found the Security Cabinet already assembled and waiting. In addition to the PM and the defense minister, this typically included the vice prime minister, the minister of foreign affairs, the minister of internal security, the finance minister, the minister for strategic planning, the justice minister, and the chief of staff of the Israeli Defense Forces. That morning, it also included the directors-general of Shin Bet and the Mossad and the prime minister’s military secretary, as well as senior commanders from the army, the air force, and the navy.
Naphtali took his seat at the head of the table and began immediately. “At present we face a moment unlike any other in the modern history of the State of Israel. This is not comparable to 1948 or ’67, or even ’73. This is 1939, and we are on the brink of annihilation.
“As you know, we ha
ve confirmed that Iran has eight nuclear warheads. Our latest intelligence indicates that at least several of these warheads have been attached to high-speed ballistic missiles and that this madman, the Twelfth Imam, intends to launch these warheads at us in the next few days, by Monday at the latest. I don’t have to tell you, gentlemen, that if he authorizes such an attack, he could do in about six minutes what it took Adolf Hitler nearly six years to do, and that is to kill six million of us.
“The difference between then and now is that we have a state. We have an air force, and we have strategic weaponry; our parents and grandparents did not. History will never forgive us, my friends, if we do not act with courage and foresight before it is too late.
“Now, I am sorry to say that our assessment of the Jackson administration is that they do not seem to understand the gravity of the situation. I have had lengthy personal conversations over recent months and even in the last week with President Jackson. Levi and I have had extensive conversations with the president’s most-senior national security advisors, including CIA director Allen. Some of them understand the stakes, but it is clear to Levi and me that the president does not. I think our foreign minister here can attest to the fact that most of the leaders of NATO and the United Nations don’t see the crisis clearly and are not ready to take decisive action.”
The foreign minister, already stricken with a grave countenance, nodded.
“So we are at a moment of decision, one we must not take lightly,” Naphtali continued. “As you know, from the moment I took office, I instructed all of you to be working on a comprehensive war plan that we have code-named Operation Xerxes. It is time for us to put this plan into motion. I have asked Levi here to brief us on some of the final operational details.
“First, however, let me say this is not the first time the Jewish people have been faced with the threat of annihilation by the leaders of Persia. In the Ketuvim, we read the story of Hadassah and Mordecai facing the wicked Xerxes, king of the Medo-Persian Empire, and his arguably more wicked deputy, Haman, Persia’s president or prime minister at the time. We read in the ancient text that our ancestors faced a very dark hour. They faced certain destruction of the entire Jewish race. To whom, then, did they turn? To the American president? To NATO? To the UN Security Council? No. They turned to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob through prayer and fasting, and they mobilized other Jews to do the same. And though the name of the Lord is never mentioned in the entire book, we can see His fingerprints everywhere. For clearly the God of Israel heard and answered their prayers. Xerxes changed his mind. Haman was hanged. The regime was fundamentally changed. The war still came. The Jews still had to fight. But the Lord was with them, and they prevailed in one of the most spectacular victories recorded in the Tanakh.”
Naphtali looked around the room and leaned forward in his seat.
“We have been praying for a miracle, for a regime change, for Hosseini to change his mind and Darazi to die, or some combination thereof. Thus far, those specifics have not happened, but I am confident that the God of Israel is still with us and that He is answering our prayers in ways that we do not yet see. One thing is clear: it is time for us to fight. Indeed, we have run out of time for anything else if we intend to survive. And, gentlemen, that is my intention. This will not be easy. In fact, I believe it will be the most difficult mission our nation and our armed forces have ever undertaken. Israel will suffer. The region will suffer. The Iranian people will suffer. But I see no other way, and in the end, I believe good will triumph over evil, and I hope to God that you do too.”
* * *
Natanz, Iran
Jalal Zandi took the urgent call in his office.
Having been up most of the night overseeing the missile technicians, he was bleary and bloodshot and had just poured himself another large cup of thick, black coffee.
“Missing?” he asked between sips. “How long? . . . Gunshots? You’re absolutely certain? . . . No, you’ve done the right thing. . . . What? . . . No, get this thing contained—I’ll let the leadership know. . . . Yes, absolutely. . . . Okay, call me the minute you know more.”
Zandi hung up the phone in disbelief. Tariq Khan was gone. Dead bodies were all over the scene. What did that mean? Who had done it? And were they coming for him next?
* * *
Tel Aviv, Israel
Naphtali turned the meeting over to his defense minister.
“Thank you, Mr. Prime Minister,” Shimon began. “As you know, gentlemen, we have multiple assets inside Iran who are feeding us detailed information. We are hopeful that in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, we will have precise targeting information to take out those eight warheads. But I must stress that I am advising the prime minister that we must be willing to attack by the beginning of Shabbat at the latest even if we do not have this information, or we will lose the initiative and, most importantly, the element of surprise.
“Surprise, of course, is a relative term. There is much concern inside Iran and around the world that we may be preparing for a strike. We have, therefore, been doing everything we can to make final preparations as discreetly as possible, as per our discussions here in this room over the last few months.”
Shimon directed the attention of the Security Cabinet to the large flat-screen monitors as he walked them through a highly classified PowerPoint presentation on Operation Xerxes.
“We recently ran an exercise in which we sent some four hundred planes on a practice bombing run to Greece, given that Greece is roughly the same distance from Israel to the west as Iran is from us to the east,” Shimon continued. “This was the second such exercise of its kind, though the first one involved only about a hundred planes. The purpose of this exercise was severalfold, but let me focus on two critical elements. First, we needed to see if we really could pull off such a massive air attack. I’m pleased to report that while we had numerous glitches, all of them have been fixed, and the IDF and I believe the answer is now yes, we could, if we were so asked. Second, we needed to get the Iranians—and the rest of the world—thinking that we are planning for a much larger-scale air attack than they had previously considered. This was done to confuse our enemies and our friends alike, to have them watching for grander preparations. But the truth is, we believe a smaller strike force is prudent. Let me explain.”
For the next thirty minutes, the defense minister provided a detailed picture of what the IDF and IAF were preparing to unleash. Using satellite photos, maps, and pictures taken by assets on the ground, he identified sixteen Iranian facilities that would be targeted, ranging from nuclear research-and-development facilities and missile-production-and-launch facilities, to the Iranian Defense Ministry and the regime’s intelligence headquarters in downtown Tehran. He noted that fourteen of the targets had been subjected to extensive surveillance and detailed attack planning for nearly eighteen months. Two, however, were new in the last few days—the Iranian naval flotilla steaming through international waters in the Mediterranean, and something called the Qaleh, the Supreme Leader’s mountain retreat center, only recently uncovered by a Mossad asset within the regime.
“Rather than send a massive armada of four hundred planes that could be detected by every intelligence agency in the region the moment it left the ground,” Shimon explained, “the idea is to send small squadrons taking different routes to attack each of the individual sites. We’ll also need additional fighter jets for security to accompany those carrying the bombs, as well as refueling tankers, electronic warfare planes, and so forth, but the pilots have been practicing for months, and we feel confident that they can move with little or no notice, once the prime minister gives the word.”
The questions came fast and furious.
“What is the total number of aircraft you plan to use?” the foreign minister asked.
Shimon explained that they were looking at using between 116 and 168 planes, depending on the final targets chosen. In the low-end scenario, he said, they would deploy
fifty-two fighter jets if each jet were dropping two bunker-buster bombs on its target. These would be guarded by an additional fifty F-16I fighter jets for air escort and fighter sweep missions and to suppress enemy air-defense systems. In addition, they’d be using twelve KC-130 and KC-10 refueling tankers, plus two Gulfstream 550 electronics jets.
In the high-end scenario, he explained, they would need to deploy 104 fighter jets, if each jet carried a single bunker-buster bomb to its target. These would need a similar assortment of support aircraft.
“What kind of attrition rate are you projecting?” the finance minister asked.
“Between 20 and 30 percent.”
“You’re planning for losing up to 30 percent of our planes?”
“Planning for it? Yes,” Shimon replied. “Expecting it to actually happen? No. I believe our pilots are better than that, but war, as you well know, is unpredictable, and I’m trying to be conservative.”
“So at the low end, you’re saying that losing between twenty-three and thirty-five planes is acceptable?” the justice minister asked. “And at the high end, you are okay with losing between thirty-three and fifty planes, each of which cost about $20 million without ordnance, fuel, or electronics upgrades?”
“Compared to losing six million citizens? Yes.”
Shimon noted that the war plan also included measures to minimize the loss of Israeli pilots. They would, for example, deploy fifteen UAV drones, each armed with two Hellfire missiles. In addition, they anticipated firing roughly two dozen cruise missiles from Israeli submarines as well as numerous torpedoes to take out key Iranian naval vessels.
“And when our boys go down in enemy territory, what’s the plan to get them back?” the vice prime minister asked.
“We have twenty search-and-rescue helicopter teams on standby,” Shimon explained, putting some of the data up on the screens. “About a month ago, we pre-positioned quite a few of these teams in Azerbaijan. They are very well trained. They are highly motivated. I have reviewed these teams personally, and I am confident they can get the job done.”
The Tehran Initiative Page 34
