Exit Plan (50 page)

Yunes
had six tubes, but only two of them had connections for the guidance wires. The other four tubes would only allow the acoustic homing mode. The final complication was that he could only fire two TEST-71ME-NK torpedoes in active acoustic mode at a time. If he fired more than a pair of weapons, they would likely begin homing in on each other once they went active, like a cat chasing its own image in a mirror.

Mehr had one of his officers researching the
Ohio
-class and its torpedoes, the Mark 48. He would present a detailed brief in a little over an hour. Other parts of the crew were running emergency drills. Everyone understood they were going to war.

He stood up and stretched. His desk was cluttered with manuals, printouts, and scribbled notes. It was time to take a tour. The crew needed to see him.

Nikhad, the senior radioman, found Mehr as he left his stateroom. “Captain, urgent message!”

Mehr snatched the printout out of his hands and then cursed himself for showing too much excitement. He took his time reading the short message, then read it again to make sure he understood it clearly.

PASDARAN BOAT PATROLS AND CIVILIAN SHIPPING REPORT BRIGHT FLAMES ON THE WATER IN THE VICINITY OF 26° 16’ N/054°49’E ON THE NIGHT OF 6 APRIL APPROXIMATELY 2030 HOURS/1730Z. THIS CORRELATES WITH TIME OF A SUBMARINE MISSILE ATTACK DURING A GROUND SKIRMISH NEAR MOLLU. INVESTIGATE.

A skirmish? Missile strikes? Nobody ever told him anything. The message was signed by Admiral Zand. The routing was through the main headquarters at Bandar Abbas via Tehran. A sighting report from Pasdaran units and civilians, no wonder it was so old. Mehr said, “Acknowledge the message, and say, ‘We are en route. ‘ “

The radioman hurried off, while Mehr headed for control. Khadem was still drilling the attack team, and the captain did his best to appear calm.

“How are they doing?” Mehr asked casually.

“Better,” the first officer answered, “especially after I told them they could improve, or die.”

“Good, because we have a possible sighting of the enemy, about eighty kilometers from here.”

Like Mehr, Khadem fought to control his excitement, and didn’t entirely succeed.

“Drill them for another hour, and feed everyone,” Mehr ordered. “I’ll get us headed toward the reported location, and then we will work up a revised search plan. The sighting is nineteen and a half hours ago, and it isn’t very precise, but it gives us one critical advantage over the Americans.”

“What’s that?”

“We know they’re there.”

~ * ~

Shirin had been looking at her watch since noon, and insisted on helping keep watch for Jerry and Ramey. Harry had found a shady spot and made her comfortable, expecting her to fall asleep. Instead, she’d laid patiently, looking to the northeast as the warm afternoon hours passed. Nothing had moved, neither friend nor foe.

In typical SEAL fashion, they had agreed before leaving on what to do if the two did not return. The first part of that plan was abandoning the layup and moving to a second spot they’d chosen earlier. Shirin was reluctant to leave, but it was all according to plan. “After 1600, they won’t expect us to be here,” Harry explained.

With Lapointe incapacitated, Harry was the next senior petty officer. He’d done what he could during the afternoon, checking their gear and improving their camouflage when he wasn’t on lookout duty. Jerry and Ramey had left their packs behind, as well as other pieces of equipment. As it neared the cutoff time, Harry started to plan what the three would take and what they would have to bury.

Phillips had finally spotted them, just before the cutoff time. The pair was hurrying as much as they could while doing their best to stay concealed. With Ramey in the lead, they were as careful about being seen returning as departing.

When the two finally reached the relative safety of the layup, even Ramey was breathing hard. Jerry was gasping. “We pushed it,” Ramey explained. “We were scouting their defenses.”

With the last word, everyone’s expression changed. Nobody said anything for half a moment, then Fazel said, “There weren’t supposed to be any ‘defenses. ‘“

“There are now,” the lieutenant answered unhappily. “We watched a company of infantry—mechanized infantry, actually—set up strongpoints all over the airfield. There were machine gun emplacements and armored personnel carriers with fields of fire covering every open area, troops inside buildings making firing positions, and snipers on the roofs.

“The XO and I spotted them setting up as soon as we got to the field. We spent the rest of the time studying their defenses, looking for holes, something we could exploit.” He took a gulp from a water bottle.

“And then the second company drove up, a little after noon,” Jerry added. “Although they were only in trucks, not APCs. They expanded the perimeter, and then the officers started walking the ground around the airfield.”

Ramey explained, “At that point, we just wanted to get away, but with so many eyes, we had to move carefully, and slowly. That’s what almost pushed us past the cutoff time.”

“There was nothing on the imagery,” Phillips insisted. “This must have all happened this morning.”

Ramey nodded emphatically. “Brand-new. We saw them making emplacements and filling out range cards. In a way, it was ideal. We watched them set up. We know exactly where everything is. If I had the whole platoon, we could take that place apart.” He smiled at the thought.

“It isn’t happening,” Jerry said finally. “We can’t steal a plane.” He hated to say the words. He felt more than frustration. After so many failed plans, being pursued and shot at. . .

“Well, that’s why we reconnoiter a target before we go in,” Phillips announced philosophically.

“We took out an entire squad,” Fazel said. “They’re pissed, and they’re scared. They won’t take any more chances. They’ll flood this area with troops. “

Shirin sat silently, the latest bad news simply impossible to absorb. She’d lost so much, so quickly—her uncle, her mother, and now her husband. She was still trying to understand that Yousef was gone. His child would grow up without a father, if the baby got the chance to grow up at all. A wave of fatigue washed across her, and she felt cold, the same kind of cold she’d felt holding Yousef’s hand.

“I think I should tell you all the encryption key,” she said quietly. “It’s a mathematical formula, a transform on each group of three numbers—”

“Wait a minute!” protested Jerry. “I agree we need to distribute the key, but I don’t like the reasoning behind it. You just can’t assume it’s hopeless and give up. We are going to get you out of here,” he affirmed. The others all agreed emphatically.

Fazel said, “You have to believe we’ll make it, that we can beat them. They haven’t found us yet, which means we are still in the game.”

“What else can we do?” she asked him, almost in tears.

“Something. We just need to think it through, that’s all,” the SEAL answered. “I’ve seen guys overcome terrible obstacles and still succeed because they were certain that they could. That’s not arrogance; it’s just the will to keep on slugging until you win. You’ve suffered, but we’re still with you, and we won’t let you down.”

Harry took her hand. “Come over and lie down. I’ll get you something to eat.” When she objected, he said, “Doctor’s orders. You need the calories.”

~ * ~

Keep on slugging. Fazel was right. Jerry tried to focus on what had to happen next. There was a prearranged comm window at 1630. Originally it had been intended to review their escape plan with
Michigan,
but now he’d have to report that another plan had fallen through. Which one was this? Plan F? Plan G? The PRC-117 radio was already set up, and at exactly 1630, he reluctantly pressed the transmit key. At this point, Jerry was so familiar with the equipment it was almost like using a phone.

Lieutenant Frederickson acknowledged the call, and as soon as Jerry heard his voice, he knew something was wrong. “What’s happened?” he asked.

“They found Vern,” Frederickson said. “They’ve got Higgs.” Even over the radio, Jerry could hear his grief and anger.

“Who’s got him?” Jerry demanded. “The Iranians? How?”

Frederickson sighed. “He washed up on a beach. They had a press conference this morning, with drawings and fingerprints. The Iranians are turning all the information over to the Red Cross. If we say he’s ours—tell them who he is, the Iranians say they’ll give him to us—after we explain how he got there.” The anger rose in his voice with the last sentence.

Frederickson’s voice leapt out of the handset. “Damn it, Matt! Can you hear me? This is your fault. This is a major screwup! You left him, and this is what happens.”

Jerry had been holding the handset so that Ramey and Fazel could listen in as well. Frederickson’s words shattered the lieutenant. Jerry saw his expression dissolve into anguish.

“That was my decision, Lieutenant,” Jerry spoke sharply, almost automatically. “I ordered him to leave Higgs in the ASDS. We had no choice.”

“I’m not talking to you, sir! This is SEAL business. We don’t leave our own behind, and this will be a lesson to future BUDS classes of why that rule has always been followed. Up until now.”

“That’s enough, Mister.” Jerry heard Captain Guthrie’s voice, first in the background, then more clearly as he took the handset from Frederickson. “Jerry, we watched a download of the press conference. The Iranians don’t say where the body washed ashore, but it was sometime yesterday morning. They’re playing the ‘concerned citizen’ act to the hilt.”

“I’m sorry, sir. This complicates everything.”

“Not for us. This is for the people in Washington to sort out. There’s nothing you or I can do, or could have done differently.” Guthrie said the last part with a hard edge. Jerry guessed the captain was looking at Frederickson while he said it.

“Sir, more bad news. The airfield plan is a total bust.” Jerry quickly summarized the situation at the airstrip.

“And we can assume that the roadblocks have been beefed up as well,” Guthrie concluded. “Moving is going to become more and more dangerous.

“I wouldn’t want to have another fight like that again, with two fewer guns,” Jerry said. Fazel, still listening, nodded emphatically.

“Do you have a new plan yet?” Guthrie asked.

“Sort of, sir, the backup was to look toward the harbor at Bandar Lengeh. We’ll call as soon as we have something worked out.”

“Understood,” Guthrie answered. “Good luck, XO.”

Jerry turned off the power and started to break down the radio for travel. Although they’d have to call
Michigan
again, and hopefully soon, SEAL practice, as Lapointe had taught him, was to keep it packed up, in case they had to move suddenly.

Ramey was nearby, just a step or two away from where he’d stood with Jerry while listening to the radio. Jerry studied his face. Lines of strain and fatigue lay under a layer of grime. Jerry was sure they all looked that way, but Frederickson’s words had hit dead center. Ramey’s features also showed pain, and Jerry could see tears streaking the dirt.

Ramey was working hard to keep it together. “You know, I tried to warn Vern away from Judy. I thought they were too much alike. I worried all they would ever do was butt heads. After they were married, she forgave me, then she started teasing me about how I didn’t warn her.”

Jerry started to say something, and remembered Lapointe’s lecture about sympathy. It wouldn’t help Ramey to hear how sorry Jerry was about Higgs. But just turning his face toward Ramey was enough to focus the lieutenant’s attention on Jerry.

“Why did I listen to you?” Ramey shouted. “Why didn’t I get him out of there?”

“Because I ordered you to leave him,” Jerry said. He spoke softly, with as little emotion as possible. Yelling back at someone who was already angry was rarely a good idea.