by Stephen Makk
Of course, there are these photographs from behind the filing cabinet.” She pushed them forward across the table. They were views of Oriental and Middle Eastern looking men. All were smiling and standing in front of the machinery that had obviously been removed from the site. “No prizes for guessing their nationality,” she said.
“So,” said Rudolph, “we have Koreans and Iranians working together, presumably producing something. The equipment they used is subsequently removed, and we discover traces of materials that Jimmy and Joe Einstein tell us are used in the production of nuclear weapons.”
Crutch took over.
“Yeah, and this machinery is removed after the job’s presumably done. Just to hide their asses, the job’s done in the ass end of Antarctica. Nice and remote. More people have seen a Mother Superior’s quim.” Rudolph gave her a look of reproach. Anupa smiled
“You don’t think they wanted it kept quiet, do you?”
Rudolph sat back and folded his arms.
“For some reason, the Mossad passed the information to us. They know we’ll share it with the cousins.” He drummed his fingers.
“Let’s do it then. I’ll get this put into a file and sent to Langley. Let’s see what they make of it?”
THE PENTAGON. WASHINGTON.
THE LARGE SCREEN ON the far wall flickered once and became blank.
The meeting had been requested by the CIA and present were the senior section analysts Simon Hobbs, Middle East and Koon Wing Mui, Far East. The Joint Chiefs of Staff sat around a large table. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Ian Cotton USAF.
Chief of Staff of the Army General Sally Weingarten, USA.
Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Nicolaj Kamov, USN.
Commandant of the Marine Corps Bruce Nanut, USMC.
Chief of Staff of the Air Force General Neil L Cooper, USAF.
Also sat at the table was National Security Advisor, Stockhaisen.
“That Sir, is our presentation,” said Simon Hobbs. “I think you’ll agree that it needs careful consideration and a possible response.”
“I agree,” said General Ian Cotton. “So, let me summarize. Iran and North Korea set up a joint facility in Antarctica to produce nuclear weapons. This facility has presumably done its job and is dismantled. The weapons have been shipped to who knows where? And the information that informed us of this site came from the Mossad via MI6.”
“That’s correct Sir,” said Hobbs.
“Then tell me Mr Hobbs. What the hell do we pay you for? Why don’t we just use the Mossad and MI6?”
“Sir, we are...”
“Ok, Mr Hobbs. Button it.” He turned to the other Chiefs of Staff.
“People, what do you think?”
“Why Antarctica?” asked Air Force General Neil L Cooper.
Koon Wing Mui stepped forward. “We’ve investigated this,” she said, “it’s mainly political, but with a practical slant. In 2015, Iran signed the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action agreement with the five + one; limiting their potential nuclear weapons program.”
Admiral Nicolaj Kamov shook his head. She carried on.
“North Korea is not limited by an agreement but even they are curtailed to some extent by South Korea, Japan and the USA. But most of all by China.”
“So why Antarctica?” repeated Cooper.
“Sir, to use business speak, offshoring their nuclear activities helps out a lot for North Korea. For Iran, it gets them out from under the JCPA. It’s a very big risk but the regime hardliners would probably be willing to take that risk. Antarctica because it’s out of the way. Very hard to detect any work being carried out. Australia claims that part of the continent, but as you’d imagine they’re thin on the ground down there.”
“Where does the Mossad fit in?” asked Army General Sally Weingarten.
Koon shrugged. “We can’t say, but they probably got it from an informer.” Koon switched on the wall screen and cycled through to a map of Iran.
“This is the Iranian military nuclear site, Parchin just southeast of Tehran. They’d be involved in any clandestine operation.” She looked to Hobbs, who carried on.
“Israel watches them like a hawk for any nuclear activities. Our best guess is that the Mossad has an asset nearby.”
“What about South Korean assets?” asked General Cotton.
“Sir, the South Korean National Intelligence Service is looking carefully at the issue,” replied Koon, “they have nothing definite so far.”
“Let’s get some assets in the area,” said General Cotton. “Neil, get some birds into Guam. Nicolaj?”
“We’ll get more ships into the Far East and the Indian Ocean.”
KOON LOOKED TO HOBBS. “Simon, we should lay it out.”
Hoobs looked down undecided. He turned to her, gave her a weak smile and nodded.
“Go on.”
Koon cleared her throat.
“There is a scenario you should be aware of. It doesn’t have universal support at the agency but it’s gaining ground.”
“Go on Koon,” said Cotton.
“Many of us think that what’s going on is a version of the Saudistan postulate. This contingency is currently in place as a Saudi response in the event that Iran acquires nuclear weapons.
Saudi Arabia. It’s commonly accepted that this is the most likely country to go nuclear if Iran does. To quote the US Senate Committee on Foreign Relations report of 2008 on the implications of a nuclear Iran.” She read from a document on the table.
“However, high level U.S. diplomats in Riyadh with excellent access to Saudi decision-
makers expressed little doubt about the Saudi response.
These diplomats repeatedly emphasized that an Iranian nuclear weapon
frightens the Saudis ‘‘to their core.’’ and would compel the Saudis to seek nuclear weapons.”
“Gentlemen, there is some doubt about the Saudi industrial capability to develop nuclear weapons but it’s not relevant. In the eighties the country purchased between 36 and 50 CSS-2 medium range ballistic missiles from China with a range of some 2,600 miles; that’s far enough to reach Germany. These missiles were designed to carry a 3.3 megaton nuclear warhead and have no military use with conventional warheads, they are far too inaccurate.
In the south of the country is a hardened storage site at Al-Suliyil, housing four to six concrete launch pads, it stores around sixty missiles.”
Koon held the room’s attention.
“Ironically the country with the weakest technical infrastructure could acquire nuclear weapons and the means to deliver them before any other.
The Saudis have a close relationship with Pakistan and are near certain to have funded the Pakistani nuclear program.
It’s possible that there are a few dozen nuclear warheads stored in Pakistan now with Saudi Arabia’s name on them. If Iran does go nuclear the Saudis could join them within weeks.
The Sunni Saudis would see the Iranian bomb as a Shia bomb and therefore must be matched. A Saudi bomb could tip Egypt’s hand as the Egyptians see themselves as leaders of the Arab world and this leadership would be threatened by Saudi power.
How all this might be seen in Israel is not hard to imagine. A nuclear armed Egypt and Saudi would be regarded almost as bad as a nuclear Iran and constitute a clear existential threat.”
“And this view is held by sections of the agency?” asked General Cotton.
“Sir, it’s held by the vast majority. It’s as near fact as it comes. That’s the Saudistan postulate.”
Koon paused.
“So, here we are with the Antarctic nuclear situation.
Some are calling what might be going on here, the North KorIran postulate.
Iran wants nuclear weapons; North Korea wants better nuclear weapons and an enhanced means of delivering them.” Koon smiled.
“Better rockets. North Korea needs cash to improve its program. Iran has the cash from oil. Put the two together and you have the
North KorIran postulate. Put simply, Iran provides the cash and some expertise. North Korea the expertise. Build the weapons in a remote place, then store them in North Korea. Iran has no weapons or weapons program if it’s inspected under the JCPA deal.
If needs be, transport the nukes already painted up with the green, white and red tricolour of Iran from North Korea to Iran. Mate them up with the ballistic missiles they already possess. That’s it. There you have it, nukes in a box. They paid for em, they got em.”
Chapter 5
USS Stonewall Jackson.
The Aleutian Islands. North Pacific Ocean. March 2018
One hundred and fifty miles South of Unalaska Island.
“WELCOME ABOARD USS Stonewall Jackson....” He held out a palm to her.
“Anupa Silva,” she shook his hand. “I’m with MI6.”
“It was a dramatic entrance. You guys do that sort of thing? Oh, of course. Silly me, James Bond’s MI6. Do you know him?” Nathan grinned. She smirked at him.
“Captain, I...”
“Call me Nathan please.”
“Nathan. I was just passing by and thought I’d drop in for a brew.” He smiled and waited.
“Actually, you come highly recommended. The Chief of Naval Operations and I would like to ask a favour.”
“Anupa, the CNO doesn’t ask, he tells. What am I to do?”
SHE STUDIED HER PAPER cup.
“Where to begin?” she smirked, her eyes dark and playful.
“It all started quite innocently with oil. Rather a lot of it. The world’s supply to be exact.”
He listened, then looked to the galley. “I’ll have a coffee.” Nathan sat.
She glimpsed at him and returned to her story. “Yes, as I was saying. A lot of oil, and then there were the nuclear weapons. So, it started with oil and nukes, but then it got really interesting.” She took a sip and paused.
“Nathan, the CNO and I would be dreadfully grateful if you’d let me borrow your ship.”
He stared at her and tried to keep his mouth shut.
“Anupa. First off, it’s a boat not a bloody ship,” he said in a mock British accent.
“So, you can just swim down here climb aboard through the lock and borrow her? Just like that?” She nodded.
“That’s what he told me.”
“And what are we to do for you? Where are we going?”
Anupa pursed her lips and looked down to the tabletop.
“That’s difficult. I’m not sure of your intelligence clearance level.” She looked at him, “sorry but I can’t say. The destination yes, the mission, no. I know it’s security bureaucracy, but I have to follow orders.”
“Anywhere this boat’s cleared to go I’m cleared to go. So, we go nowhere until I know what’s going on. I can surface and let the skimmer take you.” She could understand why he was annoyed.
“Can you make secure contact with your headquarters or the Pentagon?”
“Come on, follow me.” She followed him down the main companionway into the control room. She looked around at the crew sat by their computer screens, the place was full of displays, buttons and dials.
“Lieutenant Commander Lemineux, stream the communications buoy.”
“Aye Sir.” The buoy was streamed to the surface and held connected to the ship by a cable.
“Secure satellite acquisition, Sir.”
“Can I speak Captain?” asked Anupa.
“Speak? Yes, if you want. You’re through to COMSUBPAC at Pearl Harbor.”
Anupa took the microphone.
“Can you put me through to CIA Langley. ID 3672-HE-8-NJ.”
“Yes Sir,” said a surprised female voice. After a few minutes she was patched through to MI6 headquarters, Vauxhall Cross London.
“Anupa Silva. Middle East. CLE 7DDS2.6FE4.17.”
“Cleared, who do you want,” said the Midlands accent.
“The Head Shed.”
“OK, you’re through.”
“Rudolph, it’s Crutch.” She listened and smiled.
“I’m in the Octopuses garden in a yellow submarine,” she grinned.
“Sir, the Captain needs SQ clearance level three. Captain, USN, Blake Nathan.” After a couple of minutes, she took down a note.
“That’ll do Sir, we don’t need a script just now. Thanks Sir. Bye.”
She handed Nathan a note with letters and numbers written on it.
“There you are, Nathan. You’re now security cleared to MI6 and CIA level 3.”
He put it in his pocket. “I suppose it’ll be useful one day. Thanks. Now, where are we going?”
“Is there somewhere private?” Nathan rolled his eyes.
“Yes, my cabin. This way.”
She sat on a free chair.
“So, I’m now cleared, spill it.”
“The Persian Gulf. I need to be inserted ashore covertly, near the port of Bandar Abbas, Iran. Do you know it?”
“Never been there, but I’ll put you ashore. Across the Pacific and Indian Ocean, it’s a good distance, you’ll be aboard for more than two weeks.”
“I’ve got work to do and I can stay in contact obviously.”
He shrugged, “Your choice. I’ll get the COB to set you up with a cabin and show you around. Come and go where you please,” he smiled, “but don’t press any buttons.”
She gave him a faint smile. “I’ll try not to be a problem Captain.” He stood.
“Let’s find the COB.”
Several minutes later Nathan walked into the control room having left Anupa with the COB. A cabin had been allocated and he was showing her around the boat, telling her the do and don’ts.
“Lieutenant Kaminski, we’ve a long trip ahead, one that you can get your teeth into.” Nikki Kaminski was the boat’s Navigation officer.
“Where’s that Sir?”
“The Persian Gulf, Bandar Abbas; you choose the route. And the bottom bunk across from you, is now occupied. A British woman, she’ll be with us until the Gulf.”
“Is she Royal Navy?” Nathan smirked.
“Not really. She’s Air Breathing No Load. You’ll get to know her, the name’s Anupa. She dived down and came in through the lock.” He’d told Nikki that their visitor was an air consuming, non-contributor.
“A bubblehead Sir?”
“Kind of.”
BENEATH THE INDIAN Ocean. Two weeks later.
NIKKI AND ANUPA SAT in the galley drinking tea and coffee.
“I couldn’t do that,” said Nikki, “a foreign land, people who may be hunting you down. Any real help is miles away. No thanks.”
“Remember, I can fit in as a local, I look the part and I can speak some Farsi. I have a contact in country, although I don’t know how reliable he is yet.” Nathan walked into the Galley.
“Anupa. I’d be making last minute preparations, tomorrow night we can make the first attempt. It’s a new moon and the tides are right.”
“Ok, I’ll be ready.”
“We’ll go for oh three hundred hours. That OK with you Lieutenant?”
“Yes Sir. We’ll be ready before that.”
“Aye, aye Sir,” grinned Anupa. The Captain looked at Nikki and her cabin mate.
“You’ll miss her Nikki. You two have become like a hand in glove.”
“There will be more space in the cabin now.”
“Yeah Right. I’m off doing the boat’s rounds.” Nathan left for the Engine room.
Nikki looked at Anupa, the British woman had a smirk on her face and stared back saying nothing.
“What?”
“Don’t take the piss, Nikki.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Captain. Are you...?”
“Of course not. Why?”
“You lying cow.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’m a woman, I know. And don’t forget, I’m a spy too.”
“Well?” Nikki said nothing. Anupa whispered.
“I’ll take that as a y
es, I know you must keep it quiet. Conduct unbecoming and all that.”
“You’re mistaken Anupa.” Her face told a different story. Anupa patted her on the wrist and grinned.
BANDAR ABBAS. IRAN. 0.200 hours.
“COME TO PERISCOPE DEPTH, speed three knots.” The deck angle tilted up at the bow. Then levelled.
“Periscope depth Sir.” Nathan activated and raised the photonic mast, this replaced the old periscope. He looked into a monitor at his station, selecting full rotation from the touchscreen. The scope raised itself, carried out a brief 360 rotate and then lowered itself. On-screen Nathan rotated the view, all clear. He could pick off the bearing, range to any targets, and zoom into the target if necessary. The scope could switch to night mode when needed. He saw the lights of Bandar Abbas; they were muted as the scope had switched to night mode.
The port and city lay around six miles away to the north. To his rear a few hundred yards away he could see the island of Hormuz. The boat headed to the west. They’d chosen the area of Bostanu to the west of the city as the drop off point. To the seaward side of the city and to the boat’s port was the island of Qeshm. Nathan saw its occulting navigation light and he headed down the channel. Slowly, slowly the Jackson made its way to the west.
The Virginia visionary, his best Sonar operator stood watch. CPO Dan Benson was part fish.
“Sir, I have a possible contact west of us in the channel. There’s a good amount of civilian traffic, so it’s tough to be sure.”
“Keep monitoring it Benson. COB, let Innes and Silva know where we are. They need to be ready soon.”
“Sir.” The COB walked aft towards the sail. Long minutes went by as Jackson made her way down the channel at four knots.
“Sir, I can confirm subsurface contacts, two of them heading this way at eight knots. Suspected Ghadir class boats, library indicates eighty per cent chance. I agree.” These were locally built midget or coastal submarines, around one hundred feet long, displacing one hundred and fifty tons. Tiny and slow thought Nathan, but they did pack two torpedoes. He knew they were probably principally tasked with anti-ship operations but were unwelcome. They needed to be treated with respect after all this was their homeport.
