by Frank Perry
all this work?”
Simmons took her on a short walking tour overlooking dozens of control stations and explained, “People here are all doing different things, supporting the mission. We are in communications with several resources from different commands involved. The displays show us computer generated imagery, or real images, of the ground action. Would you like to see where Peter is right now?”
Without forcing her to respond, Simmons pointed to the center large screen display, “You see those blue circle icons on the screen?”
She took a moment to orient, “What am I looking at?”
“The basic image is a photo composition background of satellite images taken recently, the last few days, of The Northwestern section of Tehran. We can enlarge or shrink the area with computers, but right now it’s optimized to show the area we consider vital to controlling the battle scene. Sorry, it shouldn’t be called a battle. It’s not a battle. Anyway, we have special sensors, radars and cameras that are tracking our people and other assets that are in the area. We can also track Opfor (opposing forces).”
Rachael stepped forward a half step and stared for a moment, “So, which icon is Peter?”
“Okay, he’s one of those two circles that overlap each other in the lower right quadrant. The circle to the left, up in the mountain, is Captain Stokes. He can see the residential area from up in the mountains. The Iranian dignitaries like to enjoy the view. In this case, it’s crucial to the mission plan, Peter’s plan.”
She continued staring, “Do they ever talk? Can you hear them?”
“We broadcast all of their radio communications, but the team in the city doesn’t have a radio. They are essentially blending in as tourists.”
“What are they able to do in the city?”
“Basically, they are going to verify when the target is at home.”
“Oh.”
From the area on the screen, it was hard to detect any motion of the icons, but Peter and Blomstein were moving. They walked south on the boulevard about two blocks away from the blockade as the sun began to set, then turned right on a cross street. Walking one block, they turned right again heading north on the street parallel to the mansions. Here, people were strolling along the street together or walking dogs.
They slowed the pace on the second block, examining the houses. There were three houses in the center of the block that looked deserted. Josh whispered, “Peter, these places might be vacant to protect the guy on the other side. They could expect him to be in danger.”
“Yeah, it does look like that. Let’s reconnoiter to the end of the block.”
They continued walking north and found the cross street between the boulevards was also blocked. Peter said, “Okay let’s walk back, but stay in the shadows as much as possible. It anyone comes at us, just act like we’re out for an evening stroll.”
“Roger that.”
Some of the Iranian soldiers were facing in their direction as they turned as casually as possible and began walking back down the block. No one followed as they slowed and searched for signs that anyone was watching them. When nobody was spotted, Peter said, “Jump!”
They leapt to the top of a stone block fence beside the sidewalk, then down onto the ground behind the wall. Neither one moved, listening for indications of danger.
Communicating with hand gestures, they moved through the front yard then past the side of the house into the backyard. They stopped at the back yard wall. Peering over, the house beyond was also dark. Without speaking, they jumped over the rear wall into the next yard and ran to the side of the house. Foundation shrubs provided concealment, as they moved closer to the front wall. They were directly across the street from Abu Qatada’s residence.
Powerful spotlights surrounded the minister’s compound and every interior light seemed to be on. Outside, the grounds and street were as bright as day. Peter whispered, “Man, no wonder these houses are vacant, it’s like living on the strip in Vegas. There must be an entire company guarding the house.”
They didn’t know how long they would be there, and hiding in daylight would be impossible.
They sat on the ground next to the foundation looking through openings in the landscaping. Soldiers were relaxed, but holding their posts. Peter and Blomstein decided to alternate watches for anything that changed. Blomstein was first, while Peter explored the grounds around their hiding place. If their vigil lasted until the morning, they would need better cover, or to return to the hotel. Hours went by. Then near morning, an officious soldier began sprinting around the perimeter shouting orders. He had the guard force all standing rigidly at attention for several minutes when a limousine came up the street without slowing at the blockade. Peter alerted Blomstein and was crouching, trying to improve his view.
As the car slowed at the driveway, the iron gate opened. It drove onto the property and stopped near a formal hedge bordering a walkway to the front of the mansion. A passenger in the front seat got out as the car stopped and opened the rear door. The man wore a business suit and was built like a bodyguard.
Peter removed the communicator from his pocket and placed one earpiece button in his ear, speaking into the other one, “Striker Two, come in.”
“Striker Two, copy.”
Peter responded, “Standby.”
The man in the back of the car exited with a regal air, dressed in a flowing white gown and headdress. Peter could not be sure of his identity. As the man walked to the door, lighting obscured his vision and he could only see the man’s back. Pulling his camera up and moving to maximum zoom, he was unable to see clearly in the synthetic light. He was worried about reflections from the lens, but had to risk it.
The man in the robe stopped briefly to talk to the guard nearest to the door, presumably the officer in charge. He could see his robed profile, but no facial details. The officer turned and stepped ahead to open the door. As he did so, the robed man stopped again and turned to thank him. Using camera magnification, Peter could see the facial features silhouetted by the light of the entry inside the house. Ali Abu Qatada looked as distinctive as he had when leaving the airplane at Andrews months before. Peter recognized him and speaking into the headset said, “Striker Two, mother has returned. Confirmed, mother has returned. Acknowledge, over.”
In a calm level voice he heard, “Striker Two, acknowledged, over.”
Peter responded, “Commence, over and out.”
“Striker Two. Commence, out.”
Peter signaled Blomstein to move back the way they came.
Mission Stage Two
At the OC, a second large-screen display had been illuminated. Simmons explained to Rachael, “That second display is real-time thermal imagery of the target house. Something must be happening and the analysts put it up there.”
They both watched intensely as a voice was broadcast, “Bravo, this is Striker Two, target has been confirmed. Request permission to paint. Please advise when bird is in position, over.”
Somewhere among the consoles below, an officer responded, “Striker Two, this is Weaps. The package is en route. Will advise, over.”
“Roger, weaps, out”
Simmons said, “Rachael, in a few minutes more icons will start to appear on the middle screen. It’s going to get livelier around here shortly. At this point, Peter should be on his way out.”
She clasped her hands then went rigid with fists to her side. Her adrenalin was starting to flow as she whispered a silent prayer.
Several of the console operators in the OC were talking to each other and working on keyboards.
Simmons said, “Look, you see that silver wedge coming across the shoreline from the Caspian Sea?”
“Yes.”
“That’s an unmanned aircraft called a Predator, it’s carrying two laser guided missiles.”
Moments later he said, “Now, you see that blue wedge moving through the mountains? That’s the helicopter starting to come to pick up our boys.”
She watched in fas
cination. Everything seemed to be going so perfectly.
Predator
At Creech Air Force Base, Nevada, a pilot and weapons control officer sat beside each other flying an unmanned airplane halfway around the world. The pilot had a full set of instruments displayed on the LCD screen ahead of her. The weapons control officer had another display with video from a camera in the nose of the airplane. At three thousand feet, he could see the lights of Tehran ahead. He had another display showing the status of two AGM-114 Hellfire laser guided missiles loaded aboard the aircraft.
The Predator had been flying in a circle over the ocean for hours before receiving the message to fly to the target. It would be less than ten minutes before it was in firing range. At the OC, they were also looking at the aircraft video. There was a reticule superimposed on the video screen. Several operators at consoles were watching the scene as Tehran came into view. Then the scene went black as the plane banked to the right, preparing to attack from a more direct angle.
Over the PA system, Rachael heard a voice say, “Target is within range, request designation.”
Another voice commanded, “Striker Two, paint the target. Repeat, paint the target. Acknowledge.”
“Striker Two, painting the target. Acknowledged, out.”
On the ground, Captain John Stokes was laying prone alone in the dark atop a mountain peering through his observation system at the target. The AN/PED-1 Lightweight Laser Designator/Rangefinder was the standard Army device used to
