The two Iranian assistants left at midday, taking with them all of the two submariners’ laundry. They drew down the shades and suggested sleep, since Admiral Badr had convened a meeting in his office at 1630 that afternoon. “You will be collected from here,” he said. “The Admiral wishes you both a very pleasant day.”
Outside the door, there were four armed Naval guards. At the base of the stairs there were two more. And a four-man detail was on duty outside in the heat. Admiral Badr was keenly aware of the importance of his guests. He was also keenly aware that half the world would have paid a king’s ransom to know where the Hamas assault Commander was at this precise moment.
Ravi and Shakira were awakened by telephone at 1600 and informed they would be collected in thirty minutes. They dressed slowly, poured some coffee from the heated pot, and headed downstairs to the waiting car.
Admiral Badr greeted them both warmly and told them how dramatic it was in the base when news of the eruption of Mount St. Helens came through. “It was a wonderful moment for us,” he said, “after all the months of planning. But we have heard no response from the Americans with regard to the new Hamas threat and demands.”
“I did not really expect any word from them,” said Ravi. “However, I did expect to see some activity in their Middle Eastern bases. And perhaps a general communiqué from the Israelis to the principal Arab and Gulf nations, of which Iran would be one.”
“That really is the object of this meeting,” replied the Admiral. “We have not been informed of any new initiative with regard to the West Bank. And neither has anyone else. However, I do have a list of movements of U.S. troops and equipment in the bases.”
“Perfect,” said Ravi. “I would like to consider them, and we can decide immediately what further action to take.”
“I think that’s correct,” replied the Admiral. “I have all the information here…but, first…How is my son? Is he handling the submarine well?”
“Oh, Ben’s great,” said Ravi. “He has plainly developed into a first-class nuclear submarine CO, perfectly in command, and trusted by all of his crew. The ship is behaving very well. We’ve had nothing beyond minor problems, and I expect them to carry out successfully the rest of our plans.
“I also expect them all to make it home safely, eventually. Though it may be necessary for them to stay deep for a few weeks, should we be compelled to make our final attack.”
“As we always planned,” said the Admiral. “It is quite apparent to me the Barracuda simply cannot be detected during an operation. Even in hostile waters.”
“Not if it’s being handled by a master, like Ben,” said Ravi. “And he has become a master, nothing less. We’ve moved that ship through dangerous waters, when we knew half the U.S. Navy must be looking for us. But so far as I know, they never got a sniff.”
“Those are presumptuous words for a submariner,” said the Admiral, smiling. “But I’m delighted to hear them…Shall we look at the American evacuation now?”
“Please go right ahead. I’ll just take notes as we go.”
“Right, first, Bahrain. That’s the U.S. Fifth Fleet HQ. Two weeks ago, the Constellation Carrier Battle Group was in there, and three days ago it left. Eleven ships, including two submarines. We tracked them down the Gulf to the Strait. Also, we noticed some troop reduction, maybe five hundred Navy personnel flying out to Incirlick in Turkey.
“Second. Kuwait. That’s a very big U.S. Army Command and training base. They have upwards of 12,000 military personnel in there. We have observed some movement of U.S. Air Force fighter planes leaving there for Diego Garcia, but no substantial troop movement by sea.
“Third. Saudi Arabia. That’s the U.S. Air Force Command base they just reopened. They have 10,000 personnel in there, just like old times. Plus a large but shifting number of reconnaissance and fighter aircraft. We have discerned no appreciable change in anything.
“Fourth. Qatar. There’s been a substantial movement of troops from there. We are only seeing two thousand of the original four thousand U.S. personnel. There was a big evacuation of aircraft too. We could tell that because of the huge empty shelters they recently built. We saw no troop movement by sea, but certainly many hundreds of them left by air.
“Fifth. Oman. The docks have always been heavily used by the U.S. military. So has As-Seeb International Airport. They usually have around four thousand personnel in the country, and we have observed no change whatsoever.
“Sixth. United Arab Emirates. Small U.S. Air Force garrison here. No change.
“Seventh. Djibouti. Busy U.S. Special Forces training area. We’ve assessed three thousand personnel at various times. No change.
Eighth. Diego Garcia. Navy Base and serious airbase. They have B-52 heavy bombers and stealth bombers. No change in the number of aircraft. And it’s a very transitional place for warships. No discernible change.”
“They probably think we have a real nerve asking them to vacate Diego Garcia, since it is several thousand miles from the Gulf,” said Ravi. “But this list is very disappointing. The United States plainly does not take our threat seriously. They’re merely trying to buy time.”
“By the way, how many carriers do they now have in the area?”
“One in the northern Arabian Sea, none in the Gulf, and one heading, I believe, to Diego Garcia.”
“Is that Constellation?”
“Correct.”
“They are not really behaving like a nation that is about to have half its business coast obliterated, are they?”
“No, Ravi. They are most certainly not.”
“And do we yet have any information as to the attitude of their President McBride?”
“We’ve heard nothing. Which may mean he is working behind the scenes to destroy us. But more likely he doesn’t believe our threat.”
“I’d go with the latter, Admiral,” said Ravi. “He’s a known liberal and pacifist. And those kinds of people usually stick their heads in the sand. The danger to us is when people like Admiral Morgan get into positions of power, because they are likely to lash out. Or at worst, lash back at any perceived enemy.”
“So where do you think that leaves us.”
“Admiral, I think we’re ready to move into the second phase of the plan.”
“I thought you might take that view, General. And I agree with you. We have the power right now to make them do what we want. Or at least we should have. Have you decided on your next communiqué?”
“Absolutely. I know precisely what to do. But first I must send Ben on his way. He is well briefed and will not personally be headed into any danger zone. This next step is probably the easiest, and certainly the most likely to get major results.”
Admiral Badr smiled. “Go to it, my son. And may Allah go with you.”
The Barracuda cruised slowly 600 feet below the surface of the deep Atlantic, 40 miles west of Senegal. As from 1200 (local), the young Rear Admiral Badr had been awaiting instructions via the Chinese Naval satellite. They would be orders direct from Bandar Abbas, where he knew his father and Ravi Rashood were in conference.
Every two hours, out here in these lonely semitropical Atlantic waters, he brought the submarine to periscope depth, put up his ESM mast, and accessed the satellite, requesting a signal. The entire operation took him less than seven seconds, by which time he submerged again. But there had been nothing at 1200, nothing at 1400, which he knew was 1830 on the Strait of Hormuz. And now he was growing anxious.